Asher had explained to Shirley that, since Ruth’s mother had died when she was four years old, asking Ruth to call her Mom was an insensitive request. Her mother-in-law’s only acknowledgment of this perceived slight came via flinches and grimaces when Ruth called her Shirley in public.
The string beans danced in the rolling boil. Shirley puttered around the square kitchen. Ruth could sense her stealing glances her way. Was she not string-bean trustworthy?
Ruth pictured the book she had dropped on her bed. She wished the words and theories wound right down the steps and into her brain. She wished needing to study didn’t mean she had to take time away from setting the table. Otherwise, how would she find those four hundred hours?
Push it out of your head.
Ruth shut off the burner when the string beans turned a bit more gray than green. Her shoulders pricked from an imaginary breeze. She didn’t have to look to know what caused it; she could feel Shirley’s eyes on her.
The front door squeaked open, then clicked closed. Thank goodness. Asher would help her.
Shirley removed her apron and crouched down to peek at dinner—and her reflection probably—in the window of the Hotpoint. She ran her fingers over her cheeks, perhaps appraising the smoothness of her skin. When Shirley stepped away, Ruth patted her hair and was glad she had applied lipstick. In that moment, the swipe of color on her lips made her feel . . . what? . . . wifely. Despite everything, the thought of Asher—happy to see her, and finding her pretty—set her heart aflutter.
She hadn’t expected this, yet it felt great. Freshening up would now be part of Ruth’s plan.
“We must have taken a wrong turn, son,” Leon said. “Our wives have been replaced by movie stars.”
Silly, loving compliments were Leon’s shtick and made Ruth and Asher chuckle. Still, Shirley flushed as she swatted at him. It was almost endearing.
“Smells good, Shirl,” Leon said, sniffing the air.
Though he was as warm as she was cool, there was no kiss or furtive glance between them. Ruth wondered if maybe that’s how it was after thirty years of marriage. She only had her uncles and aunts to go by. Her family was demonstrative—ferociously hugging and planting loving kisses on cheeks and atop heads for anything from hello to a major milestone, like her college graduation.
Public affection didn’t come naturally to any of the Appelbaums. The first time she’d kissed Asher on the cheek as they walked through Morningside Park, he blushed to purple and all but wiped it off, glancing around for gawkers, of which there were none. Ruth laughed and enjoyed mocking him as she chased him for another kiss. Asher let himself be caught, but only once he was sure there were no onlookers.
Ruth had failed to warn him about the effusiveness of her father and brothers. Upon their meeting a month later, each of the Cohen men wrapped Asher in a bear hug, which she was certain was as much about proving their strength as showing affection.
Asher, she was just as certain, still had nightmares from the encounter.
Over the years they’d been together—even before they’d married—Asher had relaxed a bit, loosened his tie on occasion, laughed louder and harder. He’d even pecked Ruth on the cheek in public.
Today he kissed Ruth full on the lips. This always made his mother raise her eyebrows.
“Welcome home,” Ruth said. She longed to wrap her arms around his neck and whisper about her day. Hear about his in return. She wanted to sweep his hair from his forehead and plant a kiss hard and loud enough to leave a Pink Peony lip stain. But that brief kiss was already too much for this household.
“Hello, wife,” Asher said with a smile. With her thumb, Ruth wiped away the smudge of lipstick on his lips—an intimate act she couldn’t resist—though she wished she could have kissed it away. Ruth didn’t need Lillian Diamond’s etiquette class to tell her that would be taking her greeting too far.
Asher broke from Ruth and kissed his mother’s cheek. Ruth could tell by Shirley’s pursed lips that kissing her second had been a faux pas.
In the beginning of their stay in Wynnefield, Asher kissed his mother hello first, opened her car door first, inquired as to her well-being first. Ruth might not have known a lot about being married, or being an Appelbaum, but she did know his behavior was askew.
“Perhaps you’d like her to tuck you in,” Ruth had said later.
Asher got the hint.
Once they were all seated at the dinner table, napkins in laps, relish tray passed, salads consumed, Shirley inhaled as if making space inside. “Tell the boys about your day, Ruth.” Shirley passed the bowl of mashed potatoes to Leon. “Ruth went to Lillian Diamond’s.”
“For the etiquette lesson, that’s right,” Asher said. “How did it go?” His eyes implored Ruth to be gentle.
“It was fine,” she said.
“Fine? There is nothing bad about bettering yourself.” Shirley set the dish of pot roast back on the table with a thud. “Mark my words, Asher, the first time you entertain clients you’ll be thanking your lucky stars for Lillian Diamond and her etiquette lessons.”
“I guess,” Asher said. “What did you think, Ru?”
Could they handle the truth? Ha.
“It was marvelous, wasn’t it?” Shirley said.
“It was fine.” Ruth’s face grew hot.
Asher glanced at her. “Ma, let her be.”
“What?” Shirley asked.
“Take it easy, Shirl,” Leon said. “I expect it’s hard to be the new girl.”
“It doesn’t have to be hard,” Shirley said.
“I’ll get used to it,” Ruth said, not certain she believed that.
“Of course you will.”
Ruth wasn’t sure Shirley believed it either.
“Maybe etiquette classes aren’t right for Ruth,” Asher said, and she gave him a grateful look.
“You listen to me, Asher,” Shirley said. “Just because you’re the son of Appelbaum Accounting doesn’t mean you don’t need to worry about your image with your associates and your clients—you need to worry more. Leon?”
He didn’t hesitate. “She’s right. Those lessons are important. Ruth will be the one to get you through all the social functions during the gentile holidays and help you keep the names straight at Har Zion. Those are skills a person has to learn. Take it from one who knows.”
Asher reached his arm around Ruth and squeezed her shoulder. Was he reassuring her or turning down her volume? Ruth couldn’t read Asher’s signals. That in itself unsettled her and wiped away what had been her growing appetite.
“Enough of that. Now tell us your actual impressions, Ruth,” Shirley said. “‘Fine’ is a flimsy answer.” She lifted a modest forkful of roast into her mouth.
Ruth thought she’d experienced intense scrutiny in law school. Those professors were sparrows next to hawklike Shirley Appelbaum.
“Everyone was very nice, but I expected there to be more students—there’s only four of us.” Ruth turned to Asher. “I’m having coffee at Carrie Blum’s tomorrow. She said you met her husband on the golf course. Eli?”
“Eli Blum? Right. Nice guy. Seemed concerned his wife had trouble making friends.”