Read Online Face Value by Michael A. Kahn - Free Book Online

that Electoral College stuff. He knows classical music like the back of his hand. And zip codes? You have no idea. I’m telling you, he could teach that Alex Trebek a thing or two.”
    â€œAlex Trebek, eh? There’s a universal standard. Jesus, Sarah, no one needs to know fucking zip codes. That’s why Al Gore invented the Internet. I’ve met Stan the Man. He’s meshuggah. Just because you play mahjong with his mother is no reason to let him anywhere near Rachel. Now he’s got her in the middle of his craziness.”
    â€œWhat craziness?” I asked with a smile as I walked into the kitchen.
    Benny rolled his eyes. “The evils of mahjong.”
    I joined them at the kitchen table, where Benny had already consumed almost an entire platter of my mother’s kamishbroidt, a crunchy Yiddish cousin of the Italian biscotti .
    My mother held up a teacup and saucer. “Some tea, doll baby?”
    â€œSure. Thanks.”
    She poured me a cup of tea.
    I took a bite of a kamishbroidt. “Mmmm. Delicious.”
    It had been four years since Jonathan—my husband, Sam’s father—died in a plane crash. My mother, God bless her, quit her job and moved in to help me raise Sam and my two stepdaughters, Leah and Sarah. Eventually, my mother sold her condo and moved into our coach house in back. Leah is now a junior at Brandeis University, and Sarah is a freshman at Wisconsin. Although the two girls call me Rachel, all three of my kids call my mother Baba, which is Yiddish for grandmother. Their Baba is hard-headed and opinionated and sets high standards for her grandchildren. Don’t ask the girls how many times their red-headed Bobba made them rewrite their college application essays. Though she can exasperate me like no other human on the face of the earth, we all adore her. Even me.
    She plays bridge on Monday nights, mahjong on Tuesday, poker on Thursdays, and works out three days a week at the J, where she has her own fan club of suitors among the retirees who exercise there. The feisty Widow Gold the Elder has already turned down close to a dozen marriage proposals.
    â€œSo?” my mother said to me. “What’s the next step?”
    â€œWe wait,” I said.
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œTo see whether her law firm approves the video tribute.”
    â€œWhen will you know?”
    I shrugged and looked at Benny. “A couple days?”
    He nodded.
    I smiled. “Meanwhile, tomorrow I dive back into the fish tank.”
    â€œThe Barracuda?” Benny said.
    â€œYep.”
    â€œWhat?” my mother said. “You’re suing a fish?”
    â€œWorse,” I said. “I’m suing a doctor. His lawyer’s the fish.”
    â€œActually,” Benny said, “his lawyer’s a schmuck.”
    â€œHis name is Barry Kudar,” I said. “His nickname is Barracuda.”
    â€œSo what’s tomorrow?” Benny asked.
    â€œA deposition.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThe doctor.”
    â€œI thought you took his deposition already.”
    â€œI did. This is the follow-up.”
    â€œOn what?”
    â€œHis financial records.”
    Benny smiled. “Ah, yes. The punitive damage claim.”
    I nodded.
    â€œWhat doctor is this?” my mother asked.
    â€œJeffrey Mason,” I said. “Heart surgeon and sexual harasser.”
    â€œRachel represents the nurse he groped.”
    â€œSofia Garcia,” I said.
    â€œGroped?” my mother said.
    â€œGroped, propositioned, and harassed.”
    â€œThis doctor. Not a Jew, I hope.”
    I smiled. “Not a Jew, Mom.”
    â€œOh, thank God.”
    â€œI assume the doc is loaded,” Benny said.
    â€œMy lips are sealed,” I said. “The one thing the Barracuda got from the judge was a protective order to keep the doctor’s finances confidential.”
    â€œSexual harassment,” my mother said. “In the operating