Part 20 (2/2)
”Truthfully,” he said now. ”I don't see how that would be any bigger a step backward than leaving a network television job in New York to come back to Atlanta and have a baby.”
Melanie's eyes flashed surprise, but Vivien actually appreciated the lack of subtlety. It was hard to land a good punch when you were fighting with gloves on.
She didn't get a chance to strike back because Ira chose that moment to return to the table. ”Sorry,” he said, running a hand through his gray hair. ”There was a mechanical breakdown at the Alpharetta plant, and I had to track down the head of our maintenance department.”
”That's because no one but Ira can handle anything at his company,” Ruth said. ”After all, he is the Bagel Baron.”
”My wife seems to forget that it's those kinds of efforts that feed and clothe all of us,” Ira said.
”And my husband seems to forget that we already have more than enough food and clothing. And that if he would even talk to the people who want to buy his company, we'd have enough food and clothing for the rest of our lives. Not to mention actual lives.”
The two glared across the table at each other; everyone else s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably in their seats.
”More coffee?” Melanie reached for the carafe she'd set on the table and held it up, but n.o.body took her up on it.
”I just can't get it through his thick head that there could be more to life than running that d.a.m.ned company.” Ruth grimaced in an apparent effort to hold back tears. ”I'm so tired of trying to make him *get' it. I don't even see the point of being married anymore.” She grabbed her linen napkin and pressed it to one eye, held it there.
”Ruth, you're embarra.s.sing yourself,” Ira said. ”And everyone else, too.”
Slowly Ruth lowered the napkin. The sheen of tears was unmistakable, but not a single one was allowed to fall.
”Well, I'd rather be embarra.s.sing than . . .” Ruth paused, apparently looking for the right word and finally coming up with ”Obtuse!”
It wasn't a word one would expect to hear from Ruth Melnick, but Vivien thought it was pretty dead-on. She felt a grudging admiration for this woman who didn't like her. At least she was speaking out and trying to get what she wanted.
Ira, who also seemed surprised by Ruth's word choice, stared at his wife as if he didn't recognize her, his face awash with confusion. Vivien leaned closer and said, ”Obtuse means simpleminded, thickheaded, dull-witted . . .”
”Vivi!” Melanie shushed her even as she put an arm around Ruth.
”I know what obtuse means!” Ira snapped. ”I just don't know how I'm supposed to deal with her. She's always kvetching and complaining these days; she won't let this thing go.”
”Maybe you should try actually listening to what she's telling you,” Vivien suggested. ”Maybe she has a valid point.”
Clay, the consummate politician, excused himself and led Trip and Shelby down to the bas.e.m.e.nt to watch the game.
Melanie helped Ruth stand and then directed a lot of head movement and eye action Vivi's way; she was not any better at it than Evangeline. Vivi shrugged, palms up. ”How many syllables? Is it a movie or a book t.i.tle?”
Melanie gave up on the charades. ”Vivi, please take Ruth to the bathroom so that she can freshen up. I'd like to have a word with Ira.”
”Oh!” Vivi stood and walked around the table. ”Sure.” She took Ruth by the shoulders and realized just how distraught Ruth must be when the older woman aimed a grateful look her way. ”Come on, Ruth,” she murmured as they walked down the hall. ”Mellie will set him straight.”
When she and Ira were alone at the table and the guest bath door had clicked shut, Melanie pulled out the chair next to Ira and sank into it. He looked at her warily, but there was no fight left in him. As she watched, his normal buoyancy seeped out of him like air escaping a punctured tire. He drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. ”You see what I'm dealing with here,” he said more quietly than she had ever heard him speak. ”I don't know what I'm supposed to do.”
”I can't really tell you that, Ira,” Melanie said carefully. ”But if you love her, you need to really listen to what she's saying to you.”
”I know what she's saying. She wants me to sell the business and retire. I understand. But she doesn't. She knows me better than anybody, and she still doesn't understand that if I'm not the Bagel Baron, I'm n.o.body.” He looked away and drew another breath. ”I'm just some old altakaka who was somebody once. I'd rather die than be that.”
”Ira you're going to die whether you're the Bagel Baron or the incredibly smart businessman who created the Bagel Baron and is now living happily off the proceeds. But the bottom line is either way you're going to die. And I have a little insight about that.”
She felt her own eyes well as she let herself think about J.J., something she'd been trying not to do all morning.
”You really never know how much time you have left with the people you love. They can be gone in an instant. Losing someone you love is . . . unbearable. But throwing them away? I can't even imagine how horrible that must feel.”
She reached out her arms and hugged Ira Melnick and felt whatever air had remained rush out of him. Eyes closed they rocked gently for a moment. When they separated, she left her hand on his arm and looked directly into his eyes. ”She's an incredibly good woman. And she's trying to do what she thinks is best for both of you. Don't just blow her off, Ira. It's not that easy to find someone we can really love and who loves us.”
Ira nodded and gave her shoulder a fatherly squeeze. ”You're a good girl, Melanie. Thank you for the brunch.” He stood slowly, straightening his shoulders. ”Could you see if Ruth is ready to go?”
”Well, that was quite a kickoff to the new year,” Vivien observed as they stood on the front walk watching the Melnicks drive off.
”It certainly was,” Melanie agreed. ”I hope they can work things out.”
The day was clear and cold, the sky a gentle blue. The pansies in the matching pots that bracketed the front door provided a welcome pop of color.
”Well, I learned a few things today,” Vivien said.
”Oh?”
”I learned that even someone as seemingly transparent as Ruth Melnick is not really what they seem.”
”Is that right?”
”Yep,” Vivi said with a smile. ”To put it in candy terms, I used to think Ruth was just a jawbreaker. Now I know that she's actually a Tootsie Roll Pop. All hard and crunchy on the outside, but with a soft chewy center.”
Melanie laughed as they stared out over the sleeping lawn and the naked limbs of the trees. The sun on their faces was weak but welcome. ”Well, you're a bit of a Tootsie Roll Pop yourself,” Melanie said. ”You've got a lot more heart than you like to let on.”
”Oh?” Vivien asked as they went back inside, stopping in the dining room to begin to gather up coffee cups and dessert plates.
”Yeah,” Melanie said. ”And I think you're going to be a great mother, too.”
They carried what they could to the kitchen, where Melanie prepared to load the dishwasher while Vivi began to wrap and put away food. ”G.o.d, I hope you're not just saying that,” Vivien said. ”Because I'll be happy if I can be even half as good at it as you.”
26.
IN EARLY JANUARY not long after Wednesday-night belly-dancing cla.s.ses resumed, two journalists, a reporter and his cameraman, were abducted from a small village to the north of Kabul. The initial report was sketchy and even the networks didn't seem sure whose people were missing for a tense twenty-four hours.
Vivien left messages on Stone's cell phone but couldn't reach him, which only frightened her further. She didn't eat or sleep until the call from Marty came before dawn the following morning. ”It's not Stone,” were his first words and so great was Vivi's relief that she didn't hear anything that came afterward.
”Wait. Go back and start over,” she said shakily. ”I wasn't . . . I couldn't listen.”
With her eyes closed and her attention now split between Marty's voice and the act of drawing and releasing air from her lungs, she tried to focus on the details, but the only thing really going through her brain was, ”Thank G.o.d! Thank G.o.d! Thank G.o.d!” and ”It's not him! It's not him! It's not him!”
”Anyway,” Marty was saying when she was finally able to process words again, ”He was right near the village, but his guide had heard something was up and got him and Jake the h.e.l.l out of there.” As Vivien knew, this was not always the case with the guides the journalists depended upon so heavily. Even the best of them were somewhat conflicted. The journalists' money was important, but sometimes not as important as the guide's family connections or unspoken political affiliations.
”Obviously, he'll be following the story. It was Deke Slater from CCN and his cameraman who were taken. Deke and Stone go way back. Stone asked me to tell you not to worry and that he'll get messages out when he does his live shots, but he's not going to be able to reach you until he's back in Kabul.”
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