“I might just do that! I had no idea,” said the bookmaker. “Here’s your clue, by the way.”
“Thank you,” said Halleli, trading the Haggadah for the clue.
“This is the last one,” said Hadar once they were outside again.
“That’s all right,” said Halleli, smiling shyly. “It’s already been amazing. ‘You couldn’t drink this no matter how hard you tried, for five hundred million days. But you can float on it, and drink little things instead.’ Float? Are we going back to the river?”
Hadar shook her head. “Too busy. Think more private.”
“Quiet Lake?”
Hadar nodded rapidly.
“What kinds of little things?” Halleli asked.
“You’ll find out when we get there!”
Hadar took the lead when they arrived at Quiet Lake, approaching the boat rental. Halleli thought she heard a fragment of uncouth humor between the two young men at the counter, but as soon as they saw the two women they stopped talking and played innocent.
Hadar clearly felt like being brazen today. “What did you say about the one about the dancer and the two jugs of rum?”
The man on the left burst into laughter, while the man on the right played the fool. “I don’t actually know,” he said. “I thought there was a joke like that, but I can’t remember it now.”
“I can’t either, then,” said Hadar. “You still have that picnic basket from earlier, or did you eat it for us?”
“We wouldn’t do anything like that!” said the man on the right. The man on the left simply produced the picnic basket with a huge smile on his face.
“Thank you! Here’s the rest of the money I promised you. Now, where’s our boat?” Hadar looked around at the water with her hands on her hips.
“That one there.” The man on the left pointed.
“Sure you don’t need us to come out there with you?” asked the man on the right. “Not as much fun when it’s only girls.”
Halleli wanted to disappear inside her hair scarf, but Hadar shot right back with, “Yeah, but we’re women.”
The man on the left chuckled and punched the other man in the side. “Stop being a kidney and go help them, or I’ll tell Ima about, you know, the thing, with the girl, and the…”
“Shut up,” said his brother, and went to go untie the boat.
Wow, thought Halleli. Hadar could have said ‘I’m in the guard!’ Or ‘Stop that, or I’ll tell Captain Riv what you said.’ But she just did that all by herself, without using her uniform or scary boss as a shield. She’s the best.
Hadar had the picnic basket, and she handed it over to Halleli once Halleli was seated in the rowboat, so that she could herself sit down. They pushed away from the shore and drifted out into the gentle waters.
“Thank you so much for today,” said Halleli. “My soul is fed.”
“Now I need to feed your stomach,” said Hadar. “Open it, open it!”
Inside the picnic basket were: bourekas, roglit, falafel, chewy dried bananas, and tiny bottles of wine. “It’s our whole dinner!” Halleli exclaimed.
Hadar nodded. “I got permission to do it this way. They’re not expecting us at the dining hall tonight.”
“So we can just relax in our room.” Halleli sighed happily. “I think I’ve figured out my idea for the queen’s art story now.”
“Tell me!” Hadar bounced slightly, and luckily it was a sturdy boat so nothing bad happened.
“There’s a beautiful witch in a shiny red dress, like that fabric we saw at the dock,” Halleli began, “but also a woman street performer, who does the sort of magic that isn’t really magic. Like the man in purple. They’re on a ship together, arguing about whose magic is superior, but then they have to work together to go on a quest for magical treasures across the world.”
“Like my clues!” Hadar realized.
“And of course they fall in love.”
“Because that’s why the queen is paying you,” said Hadar.
“Well, because it’s what I want to write,” said Halleli. “Let’s face it, if it didn’t make me happy, do you think it would be any good in the first place?”
“So whose magic is better?” asked Hadar, her mouth full of falafel.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Halleli, rubbing her foot against Hadar’s ankle affectionately. “They’re both much stronger when they work together.”
No Whining
Cast: Yael from The Olive Conspiracy and her husband Aaron
For the folks at Blue Highway Pizzeria
♡ ✡ ♡
In the 4th year of Queen Shulamit’s reign (springtime)
8 Iyar: after sundown
Yael sat at a cleared-off table with that night’s box of coins to her right. She counted them in little piles, scribbling with an old pencil on a piece of some of the crumpled paper that had protected the new wineglasses in their original box. Subtract that morning’s egg delivery, then the cost of the spring onions… Oh, and she mustn’t miss that note about the broken plate. That counted as debit. Too bad.
“Whew, what a night!” exclaimed Aaron as he emerged from the kitchen, stretching his great, wiry, muscled arms. “I hope you’re about to show me some glorious numbers because I feel like a grease stain.”
“You do have one—just there.” But her tone was more affectionate than her words, and so was her adoring glance across his familiar bearded face.
After thirty years, he was used to her feigned coolness, and squeezed her shoulders from behind. “That, my dear, is a badge of honor. Three families of six all at the same time? On top of the usual lot?”
“I know.” She pushed aside another stack of coins. “Front of house was busy too, keeping their wine and water jugs filled. Speaking of which, someone complained about the wine again.”
“The herbalist?”
“No, no,” said Yael. “Someone visiting, one of the large parties from out of town. They could tell it had been watered down and accused me.”
Aaron chuckled. “I bet I know how that went.”
“I’m probably going to have a reputation in Ir Ilan by next week,” said Yael dryly. “Anyway, I’ll speak with Sarah about it at her next sales call.”
Aaron’s bushy beard moved around his twisting mouth. “I don’t know, Yael. I think we should start seriously thinking about switching to Asher.”
Yael sighed loudly.
“Look,” he started. “If—”
“I mean,” Yael interrupted. “Yes. You’re right. Jacob and Daniel have been letting us down lately, and something needs to change. But Sarah—”
“Sarah’s just the delivery girl. She doesn’t make the wine, and she’s not responsible for its quality.”
“Sarah’s more than a delivery girl,” said Yael. “How many times—how many times just this month has she gone to market for me when we were too busy to spare one of us or send Chana? Plus, that other time when she—”
“Great,” said Aaron, “but what about that incident with the bill last week?”
“Well, that was either a mistake or Jacob Straw-Hat showing his ass,” said Yael, without taking her eyes off her neat line of figures, “but after I was through with him, I bet he’ll be more careful.”
“Sarah looked embarrassed.”
“Sarah looked a right mess! I fed her after that,” said Yael. “I wanted her to know I knew it wasn’t her fault.”
“She’s a grown woman,” said Aaron.
“Barely,” said Yael.
“She’ll understand if you try someone else out for a while,” said Aaron. He produced a clean glass and a jug. “Let’s give this a try.”
Yael looked up and saw an unfamiliar picture of a bee. “What is it?”
“Mead,” said Aaron, “made from orange blossom honey. Lovely Valley. It’s from Asher.”
She gasped with exasperation. “You’ve been talking to him already?”
“No, a barmaid from the Delight ran over here halfway through
dinner looking for lemons,” said Aaron. “A rat got into their basket and it had to be thrown away, and they needed them for drinks. All she had to trade for it was a bottle of mead. But she got it from Asher.”
“I’m not saying I’m comfortable with switching,” said Yael, “but I would be awfully comfortable with you pouring me a glass of mead.” She looked up at her husband with a wily smile. “You aren’t having any?”
“If we drink from the same glass there’ll be less to wash,” he said cheerfully. “And then maybe Chana won’t be here ’til dawn.” He put the glass down on the table in front of her.
“So considerate.”
“Or maybe I just want to follow in the wake of your lips.”
“All right, all right, big talker. Are you sure you haven’t talked to Asher yet?”
Aaron threw up his free hand. “When have I ever hid anything from you?”
Without looking at him, she marked off another number on her scratch paper. “That time, with the thing.”
“Shut up, woman.”
They gazed at each other with delighted eyes.
♡ ✡ ♡
Yael listened for the sound of deliveries at the door as she peeled onions on the prep table the next morning. Today was her turn to cook, and she had plans for stuffed squash and lettuce wraps. As her gnarled, golden-brown fingers split each papery husk, she recalled the sweet yet well-balanced taste in the glass she’d shared with her husband last night. After a day on her feet, the mead had been shockingly pleasing, but with a refined palate that gave her visions of the great houses of nobility. She wondered why Jacob and Daniel hadn’t been able to get something like that.
Well, maybe they could. She’d talk to Sarah. Maybe that was her at the door.
“Good morning!” the tiny woman with the huge hair called out, waving, as she climbed off her pony and circled around to the cart he pulled.
Yael nodded, leaning against her doorframe. “They got you working hard today?”
“That’s every day,” said Sarah as she counted bottles and compared them with her scribbled list. “Um.”
Yael knew that “um.” Yael knew that meant Jacob-or-Daniel had made another mistake in her order. Particles of stress settled on her aging limbs like sawdust, irritating her and clouding her mind. She walked up to the back of the cart.
Sarah looked up to face her. “It’s the dry red from Two Trees.” She pursed her lips. “I thought it was here, but those bottles must have been part of the Delight order.”
Yael rolled her eyes. “They’re filling these orders while they’re asleep, aren’t they?”
“I’m sorry, I really am,” said Sarah. “I have to make my deliveries in the order they give me. Also, I have to tell you—we did get that new shipment in from Aram and Swan, and I talked about it with Jacob and he agreed we’d save the semisweet red for you like you asked, but this morning Daniel insisted it go to the Silver Goat and the Marquis’ manor.”
“Shit!” Yael rubbed her forehead. “That’s my bestseller.”
“I know, and I’ll talk to them again.” Sarah held out her list. “Want to check what’s left?”
Yael forced herself to do this part carefully, because who knew what other mistakes lay in store. Luckily, nothing else had gone wrong. Dry white, sweet white, sparkling pink… “That’s not mine.” She pointed.
Sarah crossed the other dry white off her list. “That’s Jacob’s writing. Maybe he wrote that instead of the dry red you wanted.”
“All right, child, let me get you your money.”
Yael and Sarah carried the bottles of wine inside, and then Yael counted out coins. “You tell that Jacob I’m coming down to see him again if I can get a minute away from the kitchen. I’m always grateful for everything you do around here, but Aaron—he’s been sniffing around at Asher’s stock, and after enough of this I can see why.”
“Yes, Chef,” said Sarah, her eyes downcast.
“I hope those bosses of yours appreciate you,” said Yael sharply. “Putting up with their mistakes.”
Sarah was gone, and her visit had left a big red stamp, the color of the missing semisweet wine, on Yael’s mind. How much longer should she have to endure missing orders, wrong orders, and generally being treated like other, wealthier customers mattered more than she and Aaron did? This was becoming ludicrous. Sarah seemed like a tiny wall trying to hold back a flood of incompetence all by herself. She meant well, but she was somewhat powerless.
At least Aaron could be the one to placate the customers looking for Aram and Swan today, while Yael worked her magic in the kitchen away from socializing.
♡ ✡ ♡
The steady hum of lunch conversation surrounded Yael in meaningless waves as she worked in the kitchen, plating stuffed squash for the next table. “Order up! Table one, outside,” she called.
Chana appeared in the kitchen and collected the plates in a row on one lanky, practiced arm. “Table four inside wants to ask you questions about the stuffing.”
“That’s fine. If you can put those lettuce cups on plates, they’re ready to go out to two and three inside.” Yael smoothed back stray pieces of her tied-back hair, then left her waitress in the kitchen as she crossed forward into the dining area.
“What can I do for you?” Yael approached table four with the air of a queen—protective, confident, and welcoming.
“Oh, yes, thank you, Chef,” said an unfamiliar woman with lighter skin than the locals. “Could you please tell me what’s in the stuffing for the stuffed squash?”
“Rice, sultanas, nuts,” Yael ticked off ingredients by tapping one finger with the fingers of her other hand. “Preserved lemon, carrots, onion, celery, garlic. You’re not asking me for my secret herbs and spices, are you?”
“Oh no! You see, I’m from the City of Red Clay, and this is our Month of the Sun,” explained the customer. “We don’t eat any meat during this time. The rice wasn’t cooked in meat broth, was it?”
Yael shook her head. “The stuffing is entirely pareve, neutral.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
The woman’s dining companion, who looked native Perachi, put his hand on her forearm. “Remember, I told you? Neither meat or dairy.”
“Oh, I see,” said the woman vaguely. “But not even cooked in broth? I wanted to make sure.”
“I can assure you there’s only plants in—”
A throaty scream followed by the sound of broken dishes stabbed the conversation in half. “Oh shit,” Yael muttered under her breath. Aaron was at one of the outdoor tables pouring wine—she was closer. “I’m so sorry, ma’am,” she called over her shoulder as she rushed back to the kitchen.
The first thing Yael saw when she burst through the swinging kitchen doors was the huge, ugly dog whose wolflike bulk took up most of the moving-around room between her countertops. “What in the name of Joseph’s coat—”
Chana crouched in the corner, shaking like a leaf with her eyes closed, plastered to the walls as if she were paint. Meanwhile, the stray dog gobbled up the remainder of the lettuce wraps with eager wuffling noises, his tail slashing from side to side. Behind all that, the open back door at least partially explained what had happened.
“SHOO!” Yael shouted, her arms in the air. “Git!”
With great effort she finally succeeded in expelling the strange animal from her work area. Then she approached Chana gingerly. “It’s gone. You all right?”
Chana almost couldn’t speak at first, but then she finally nodded jerkily and opened her eyes. “I’m so sorry. So sorry. Scratching noises at the door—thought it was the children again, so I opened it and it just—barged—I’m sorry about the food. I don’t handle dogs well.”
“I know. Shhh.” Yael rubbed her back with motherly tenderness. “It’s all right. It’s all right.” She didn’t know the story about Chana and dogs, but she did know there was a story—unlike her own lizard phobia, which was just a simple disgust reflex. “You feel well enough to go
chop me some more filling after we clean up?”
Chana squared her shoulders. “Yes, Chef.”
“I need five more orders.”
“What about the lettuce? We need more from the market.”
“I’ll handle that,” said Yael. She peered into the kitchen. Aaron was racing around filling water and wineglasses, but even had he been a young man still, handling front of house by himself would have been a tall order.
She stuck her head out the back door and called to one of the tiny children, always idle in the afternoon after their schooling hours because they were too small to work. “You! Come here. Take this coin and fetch me Sarah the wine seller.”
♡ ✡ ♡
Shabbat fell on the following evening, so the wine wagon didn’t stop by because the restaurant was only open for lunch. They could use what they’d gotten the day before. In Sarah’s absence, Yael chewed on her decision, dissatisfaction and loyalty each rising to the top of her mind in turn.
She hadn’t had time to go to the wine cellar and have it out with Jacob or Daniel, but it didn’t seem like that great of a loss since usually her visits just resulted in a lot of empty promises and air. The question hung over the approach of evening like a bad smell, and she hoped Shabbat would provide a welcome sanctuary from her dithering.
Aaron rested on the sofa while Yael changed into nicer clothes that never saw the grease of a kitchen. He looked awfully comfortable when she emerged, with his eyes closed. “You’re working too hard,” she pointed out.
“Just tired. Long week.” He opened his eyes. “Is that the new dress? It suits you!”
Yael nodded, holding out her arms to show off the burgundy fabric. “We don’t have to go though,” she added, looking over his posture. “If you’re tired.”
“No, no, I need to,” he said, pulling himself upright and then standing up.
“We can light candles at home.” She tried not to show her worry in her face too much, but he was wearing out more easily than usual lately. These things were normal—but this didn’t seem normal.
Ah, well, maybe she was just in denial that they were both growing old! As one did. Hopefully.
Tales from Perach (Mangoverse Book 5) Page 3