Someday My Prints Will Come

by Marilyn Baron

  “What the heck is MarCom?” asked Wendi. “Why couldn’t he just come out and say Marketing Communications? Nobody says what they mean these days. Or means what they say.”

  “Okay, okay, so he doesn’t meet your impossibly high standards,” Rachel said, scrolling down to the next candidate. “Nobody does.”

  Rachel could tell there would be no pleasing her roommate.

  “Okay, let’s forget New York and go for another city, somewhere small, maybe in Maine, maybe Lobster Cove, where my Mom lives. Hey, now here’s one who looks interesting. Can’t tell much from the picture. But he looks tall. Like Leonardo DiCaprio, or John Wayne. Tall is good. Let’s see what he has to say. He doesn’t give his name, just a screen name. We have a lot in common. Currently living in Lobster Cove and working at a small law firm. Conservative.”

  Perfect first date: Looking for the right connection with the right girl. Willing to take time to get to know her. We’ll take long, slow walks on the beach. The place we meet doesn’t matter as much as the company.

  “Sounds promising,” said Rachel. “Maybe I should e-mail him and…”

  “They all want to take long walks on the beach,” Wendi protested. “That beach must be getting pretty crowded by now. You’re not falling for that come-on, are you? And speaking of coming. Men always come, come hell or high water, don’t they? And that’s their basic problem, isn’t it? Do any of them really give a damn about our needs?”

  She could never win an argument with Wendi, especially when her roommate was all wound up and ranting.

  Saved by the bell.

  “I’ll get it,” Wendi said, heading to the front door of the apartment.

  The computer went blank for a minute, and then…

  “This just came for you,” Wendi interrupted, handing her a beautifully wrapped package.

  “I’m not expecting anything,” Rachel, said, tearing into the paper. “It’s a canister of cookies, no card with it.”

  “Great, let’s have at it. I’m starving.”

  “Wendi, look at this message. It just popped up on my screen.”

  “I have found the one for you!”

  “It’s some kind of Internet advertisement.” Wendi advised. “Just delete it.”

  “But it says…”

  “You are such a romantic sap, Rach, here let me,” she said and she reached over and tried to delete the message, but it wouldn’t disappear.

  “It’s a sign.”

  “It’s insane, is what it is,” Wendi pointed out. “Shut down the computer and reboot it.”

  She did, but when the machine started whirring to life, the message appeared again.

  “Weird,” was all Wendi could manage.

  “I’m clicking on it to find out more,” Rachel said, as she bit into a cookie.

  Chapter Seven

  “Oys shiddech,” said Mrs. Rosenberg, getting more and more agitated. “That’s Yiddish for ‘The marriage is off.’ ”

  “Calm down, Mrs. Rosenberg,” said Eva. “Would you like to have a bowl of matzoh ball soup and some brisket?”

  “That’s very generous of you. Thank you.”

  Eva went to the kitchen to prepare a plate of food for her latest Lobster Cove client.

  “Now, why don’t you start from the beginning, and tell me what marriage is off and why?”

  “First let me ask you if you are a registered shadchen?”

  “Yes, I am a marriage broker. I’m also known as a matchmaker, an enchantress, or any of a number of names. I arrange marriages, potential alliances, even dalliances. But when it comes to love in any form, I would be the proper person to call for help.”

  “Good, because my granddaughter needs you. I want you to make her a shiddech, a match. But we can’t tell her I’ve called you. She can’t know anything of the arrangements. She would think we’re interfering. She has a great deal of pride.”

  “I’ve worked anonymously many times. I’ve matched movie stars and moguls and regular, everyday people. You can trust me to be discreet.”

  “Good. I think we understand each other. We’re both grandmothers. I assume you have grandchildren, too? We’re about the same age, aren’t we?”

  Eva tried hard to stifle a smile. “I believe that a woman should never reveal her age, but no, I have not been blessed with children, a state of affairs I deeply regret. Now tell me, what is your granddaughter’s story?”

  Mrs. Rosenberg settled in on the sofa.

  “Melissa is a beautiful girl. Ask anyone. She’s as beautiful on the inside as she is on the outside. Her mother and I warned her she was making a mistake marrying that man. He promised her so many things, but in the end his promises were empty. He hurt her. He left her at the altar and ran off with his secretary.”

  “How devastating for her and for the whole family.”

  In the middle of the conversation, Mrs. Rosenberg’s cell phone rang.

  “I’ll just be a minute,” she assured, covering the mouthpiece, adding, “It’s my daughter.”

  “Yes, Syl, I told you to order the shiva platter. No, not meat, the dairy platter. Marsha already ordered the deli platter. Someone else is ordering the fish platter. That’s right, whitefish salad, egg salad, tuna salad, nova spread, two bagels each, and lettuce and tomato. It’s nice. Yes, only the immediate family and her close friends. Yes, eight of us will go in together at $8.50 a head. Any more is too cheesy. Yes, Dara is bringing a cheese plate. And Lillian is going to bake, and drop off the tray before we get there.” She hung up the phone.

  “Sorry for the interruption,” she apologized.

  “I’m sorry, was there a death in the family?” Eva asked.

  “A death?” Mrs. Rosenberg was puzzled. “Oh, the shiva platter. Well, in a manner of speaking, yes, the death of the marriage. We’re all rallying around Melissa in her time of need. You know, Jews. We eat when we’re happy and we eat when we’re sad. Most times we don’t even need an occasion.”

  “Well, let’s focus on love and romance instead of death and deli,” Eva suggested.

  “So you can help me?”

  “Let me see a picture of Melissa,” Eva asked.

  Mrs. Rosenberg proudly pulled out a wallet-sized photo of her granddaughter.

  “Why, she truly is lovely,” Eva said and meant it. “Why would any man leave such a jewel?”

  “You don’t know the half of it. My granddaughter is pregnant.”

  Eva swallowed. “I see. That does complicate the matter. But life is full of complications, Mrs. Rosenberg, complications with solutions.”

  “He didn’t live up to his responsibilities,” Mrs. Rosenberg said.

  “Yes, then he probably never really loved her in the first place. His sense of commitment wasn’t strong enough.” Eva settled herself on the couch beside her client.

  “Okay, tell me a little something about Melissa,” Eva prompted.

  “She has a heart of gold and she’s gentle. There’s nothing she wouldn’t do for her friends or her family. She’s a teacher at Lobster Cove Elementary and Middle School. And she loves her kids. She likes to paint, and she’s very talented, too. It’s a gift. But she’s given up all hope. She says maybe she was not meant to find love.”

  “My mother once told me that sometimes you don’t find love. Love finds you. And that’s why I’m here. To help move that process along. Be sure to take this canister of cookies home with you and deliver it to your granddaughter. I will see what I can do on my end.”

  Eva was at the keyboard the minute the door closed behind Mrs. Rosenberg, determined to help the woman’s poor, abandoned granddaughter.

  Chapter Eight

  Rachel stirred her coffee and tried to appear inconspicuous as she sat at the empty blue vinyl booth in Maggie’s Diner and picked at a slice of homemade blueberry pie with her fork. The instructions said to bring along the tin of cookies, but Wendi thought the idea was lame, so she had run into her mother’s bedroom closet and found a large Hazeltine’s Departm
ent Store bag to place the container in. So far, she had been there for twenty minutes and no one had shown up looking for her.

  “Rachel? Rachel Solomon?”

  Rachel turned around and looked up, way up, into a familiar face.

  “What are you doing here in Lobster Cove? I thought my mother said you were in graduate school in New York.”

  “Brad Silver, is that really you? My god, I haven’t seen you in… How long has it been?”

  “My high school graduation party, I think,” Brad answered. “About eight years ago.”

  “I thought you were practicing law in Florida.”

  “I was, but now I’m back in Lobster Cove. Are you visiting your Mom?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mind if I join you for a minute?”

  “I’m waiting for someone, but he hasn’t shown yet, so, yes, of course. I’d like that.”

  “I’m expecting someone, as well,” Brad said. “This will give us an opportunity to catch up.” He slipped into the booth beside her, placed his cup on the table and his shopping bag on the floor.

  “Jeez, Brad. What do they put in the water here? You must have grown a foot since I’ve seen you. Been eating magic beans?”

  “I guess I have sprouted a bit. And you, Rachel, I hardly recognized you. You really grew into yourself.” He looked awkward. “I mean you really filled out. What I meant was…”

  “Maybe you should stop while you’re ahead.” She laughed.

  “You were just a skinny kid when I saw you last.”

  “I wasn’t a kid. You and your high school friends were just too cool to notice me.”

  “Well, you sure grew up beautiful,” Brad said. He probably couldn’t believe this was the same mousy-looking girl with glasses he remembered.

  “Thanks,” Rachel said sincerely. “So are you meeting someone here? A girl, I guess.”

  “Supposed to. I hate to admit it, but it’s one of those Internet dating services my mom insisted on me signing up for. The girl of my dreams was supposed to meet me here, but it’s already been almost a half hour, so I guess she’s a no-show. What about you? You meeting your boyfriend?”

  Rachel blushed.

  “Regrettably, I don’t have one of those,” she said. “I guess we’re in the same boat.”

  “You meeting a blind date, too?”

  “Guilty as charged, counselor. Well, hopefully he’s not really blind. Although with some of the bozos I’ve been out with, you never know.”

  “We’ll just wait it out together,” Brad said cheerfully.

  “So how do you like being a lawyer?” she asked.

  “I like it a lot. It’s a small firm in a small town, so I get to do a little of everything, including divorce, family law, and real estate. We even have criminals here in Lobster Cove, but it’s a great town. The work is really interesting, and I’m learning so much.”

  “I guess there aren’t a lot of eligible girls here in town,” she said.

  “You got that right. The only unmarried girls are already pregnant. I love kids as much as the next guy, but I’m not in the market for a ready-made family, yet. I thought it might be cool to be in on the conception part, if you know what I mean. What about you? New York must be crawling with guys who want to go out with you.”

  “Thanks for saying so, but I haven’t had much luck in the dating department. Now, my roommate, on the other hand…”

  “My mom said you were rooming with Wendi DaKnockers, I mean Davidow.”

  “That’s right. And she’s getting plenty of action.”

  “You’re not surprised, are you?”

  “I guess not.”

  “What are you majoring in?”

  “Psychology. I have about a year to go for my master’s.”

  “How do you like New York?”

  “It’s exciting. I enjoy going to the theater. There’s always something happening, but it’s too crowded. I don’t think I’ll settle down there. I’m ready for a slower pace.”

  They began reminiscing about old times, and before they knew it another hour had slipped by.

  “I think we’ve been stood up,” Brad said. “Hey, I’m getting hungry. You up for getting something else to eat? I’ll show you around town. You won’t believe how the town’s changed. Then we’ll grab lunch at Mariner’s Fish Fry.”

  “You buying?” she said, warily.

  “Sure,” he said. “I’m flush. Not much to spend your money on in Lobster Cove.”

  “Well, here, I happen to have a piece of mandel bread in my bag to tide you over till we get to the restaurant.”

  His eyes narrowed as he looked at the canister she brought out.

  “How come you’re meeting someone here in Lobster Cove and not in New York?” he wondered.

  “Hey, am I on trial here? Is this a cross-examination?”

  “No, I’m just saying that it seems strange.”

  “I thought so too, but I got this weird message across my computer screen that said, ‘I have found the one for you,’ and being the romantic sap that I am—Wendi’s words, not mine—I just followed the instructions. She’s convinced I’m going to be attacked by a serial killer.”

  His face broke into a wide smile.

  “Well, if you get into any trouble, I know a good lawyer you can call.” He grabbed her hand and walked her out to his car.

  Chapter Nine

  Melissa Pomerantz sat alone in the living room of her new apartment, an apartment she could not afford on her own, looking at her wedding dress, still slung over the chair where she had tossed it earlier that week, surrounded by all the lovely wedding gifts she would have to return, and sobbed. Her fiancé Robert and his secretary had already left on her honeymoon to Hawaii, the trip she and Robert had planned and that they had both saved for.

  She sobbed for disappointing all her wedding guests. She sobbed because the man she thought she loved and would be with for the rest of her life was lost to her. And she sobbed because her little girl—she just knew it would be a little girl—was going to grow up without a father. She hardly showed at all yet, but she could already feel the wonderful new life growing inside of her.

  She had disgraced her family. Her parents had warned her about Robert, but they had put aside their reservations about their future son-in-law and planned the best wedding they could afford. Her grandmother had been very understanding, although her protests about the match had been the loudest. But mostly, she had disappointed herself because she was too blind to see Robert for what he really was. A lying, cheating, sweet-talking, scumbag coward who didn’t even have the decency to let her know he was going to be a no-show at his own wedding.

  He had seemed to be enjoying all the planning. She had included him in every decision from the type style on the invitation to the napkin colors for the reception. They had gone together to register for china and silver patterns at the department store. They met with the caterer together and he had even agreed to take time off early from work during tax season to meet with the rabbi for pre-marital counseling.

  Perhaps she had scared him away with too many details. He seemed the most frightened when she brought him the unexpected news that she was pregnant. His first reaction was to blame her. When she told him it took two to make a baby, he panicked. Of course, he had thought about children, but later, much later, after he was established.

  She was the one who’d wanted to wait until after the ceremony to make love. An accountant, Robert was very orderly. He had never done anything spontaneous in his life. Tax season was putting a great deal of pressure on him, and when the pressure got to be too much and he looked at her with such need and urgency, she allowed him to seduce her in the bedroom of their new apartment, one night, a month before the wedding.

  Robert didn’t like surprises. But he had left her to cope with the aftermath of the biggest surprise of her life. She didn’t know how she’d managed to face everyone at the synagogue. She knew her face looked stricken when she tried to walk ba
ck down the aisle, alone, with as much poise as possible and whatever shred of pride she could maintain, after her father made the announcement that sent everyone home.

  The only silver lining was that school was out and she had the whole summer to pull herself together. She didn’t think she could have faced a classroom of children in her current condition.

  When the phone rang, she didn’t want to answer it, but then she thought that Robert might have changed his mind.

  “Hello,” she sniffled hopefully.

  “Is this Miss Pomerantz?” a deep voice (not Robert’s) inquired. She almost broke out in another sob. By now, she was supposed to have been Mrs. Gold.

  “Yes, this is Melissa Pomerantz,” she managed.

  “I was wondering if you might come by the house sometime next week, perhaps Thursday night. I’d like to commission you to do a portrait…of my daughter.”

  “It’s not really a good time,” Melissa said, but something about his voice made her hesitate. It was melancholy and lonely. “But I think that would be possible,” she continued. “Give me your address and directions to your house, and I’ll be there.” At least she would have something else to focus on besides her own miserable circumstances.

  When Melissa arrived at the appointed time, she couldn’t believe she had the right address. Dr. Palmer lived in a large house in a residential area west of town. It was an early century Spanish-style stucco home, with a pool. She would like to paint it someday.

  When he came to the door, she could only stare. He was younger than he had sounded on the phone, and very handsome. When he took her hand in greeting, she felt an instant connection.

  “Miss Pomerantz, thank you so much for coming on such short notice,” Dr. Palmer said. “I practice in Bar Harbor and I keep late office hours, so I don’t have much time to meet during the day. This painting is a decision I’ve been agonizing over, and once I made it, I wanted to contact you as soon as possible.” He led her through the foyer into a beautifully decorated living room.