Miód pitny: Mead
Na szczęście: Good luck
O, boże / O, mój boże: Oh, God; Oh, my God
O, cholera: Oh, Hell
Pączek / Pączi: Doughnut(s)
Perun: Slavic god of thunder and lightning
Placki: Potato pancakes
Psiakrew: Hell, shit
Psotnica: Playful
Rosół: Chicken soup
Słoneczna: Sunny
Yiddish
Bubbeleh / bubby: Term of endearment for a younger relative
Gelt: Money
Krupnik: Barley soup
Latkes: Potato pancakes
Mamuschka: Term of endearment for a mother; derived from Russian
Oy vey: Short for “Oy Vey iz mir,” Woe is me
Ponshkes: Jelly-filled doughnuts. A Hanukkah treat
Schmuck: Literally, penis. Figuratively, jerk
Tuches: Buttocks
Acknowledgments
First, I want to thank the whole Interlude Press family for cheering me on when I didn’t think I could work on this novel any longer and for making it happen. You all rock my admittedly impressive collection of socks!
Annie, Candy, Choi, from the bottom of my heart, thank you so much for believing in this story when I did not—you made it all possible, and I owe you. Annie, for your positivity and support through it all. Candy, for your love for this story and your priceless advice. Choi, for the incredible talent and insight you displayed in order to create this masterpiece of a cover. I don’t think this sight will ever fail to make me smile.
To Nicki: I am so grateful for your dedication to push me in the right direction, to make this book what it deserved to be, and to make me the author I can grow to be. To Zoe: what you call “nitpicking” is what the French call “travail de dentelle,” as in, the finishing details that will change a piece into a masterpiece. So, please, by all means, nitpick away, because my Concerto would not be the same without you.
To Kate: thank you for being my writing companion from start to finish (and for checking my Polish!). To Heidi: the gift you gave me is one I can only hope to repay some day. To Sam, my partner in crime and ever-present cheerleader--we did it, my friend!
To Kim and Brittney: thank you for being sensitivity readers on this story—it’s important to make sure all the representations featured in the book are accurate, and sensitivity readers are essential to this goal. Thank you for being my first readers and for giving me the tools to improve as a writer.
Moune, thank you for believing in me and for never making me feel like my oddities were negative traits. Thank you for showing me that there is nothing I can’t do. Thank you for letting me ramble at you whenever I was blocked and thank you for your patience and your never-ending supply of love. Thank you for making me a nerd. Thank you for Asimov. Thank you for all the books. Thank you for your strength and the example you set for Yael and me.
Yayuschka, ma puce, thank you so much for having an unwavering faith in me. For keeping me on track. For kicking my butt whenever it needs a good kick. For loving me, in spite of how weird I am sometimes (or maybe because of it?). For being the best sister a woman can have and above all for being my friend. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Papa… how I wish you could have been here to see it. Many first drafts of this book happened between the two of us, in the kitchen while preparing a meal, with the bubbling of a dish as background music. I will cherish those moments until we meet again. Thank you for making me passionate. Thank you for making me believe in love and romance. Thank you for the music—you are in every note Halina plays through the story. I hope you are proud of me, wherever you are (even if you stole every singer and actor you loved to keep you company. Not cool, Dad).
To my very own Scooby Gang, for being so supportive and for renewing my motivation whenever I faltered: Gabby, Ben, Caroline, Agnès, Morgane, Cécilia—never underestimate how much of your love I poured into this story. It is irreplaceable.
And to my Israeli Powerpuff Girls: distance doesn’t mean a thing when love and encouragements can cross seas and mountains.
To the composers and musicians referenced in the story: thank you for creating such important pieces. You have no idea how many colors you brought into my life.
To the owners and chefs of the many restaurants I used as “research” for my girls, particularly Tutti Amici, Flesh, Privé de Dessert—you have given me more than fantastic meals; you have inspired me, and that’s priceless.
To the PR team at the Pavillon de la Reine: thank you for humoring me and for giving me information about staying in your hotel (still on my bucket list, but you never know!).
Finally, to you, the readers who took a chance on me and my words: thank you for taking that leap. I hope reading it was as entertaining for you as writing it has been for me.
See you on the next adventure!
About the Author
Born and raised in Paris, France, Naomi Tajedler learned to love art from the womb when her father played guitar to her pregnant mother. Her love of books led her to a Bachelor of Arts in Book Restoration and Conservation, followed by a Master’s Degree in art market management. Her first short story, “What The Heart Wants,” was published in Summer Love (2015), an LGBTQ Young Adult collection by Duet Books. In 2017, one of her flash fiction stories was published by Queer Fiction Press. She also contributed to the Cassandra Project, a collection of works sold for the benefit of Rrain. When not writing, Naomi can be found sharing body positivity tips on social media and trying recipes out on her loved ones.
INTERLUDE PRESS
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