Read Online General Well'ngone In Love by Libi Astaire - Free Book Online Page B

Thames in her
hands. “It is only a little thing, but it comes from my
heart.”
    She opened the book to the first page and as
she read the inscription her face fell. “Oh, the Frost Fair. That’s
when Berel disappeared.”
    “ If you would turn the
page, you’ll see there is more writing.”
    Miss Krinkle did turn the page.
    “ I shall treasure this,”
she said, after she had read the message.
    “ Then you don’t mind
having someone like me as your friend?”
    “ I’ve never had a friend
before—and I do not think I shall ever have a better one, Gen ...
Have you no other name, General Well’ngone?”
    “ What sort of
name?”
    “ Did no one ever give you
a Jewish name?”
    The General glanced around them, to make
sure that no one was listening. “Do you promise not to laugh?”
    “ I promised that at the
Frost Fair.”
    “ It’s Aaron.”
    “ Aaron. That’s a beautiful
name. I shall think of you as Aaron, if you do not
mind.”
    “ I should not mind at all,
Miss Krinkle. I would be honored if you would think of me from time
to time.”
    “ Not time to time, Aaron
Well’ngone. Often.”
    She might have said more, but the coachman
chose that moment to blow his horn, signaling that it was time to
depart. In the rush, Sarah and Berel Krinkle were swept up into the
coach. The door was shut, and the horses trotted off.
    General Well’ngone watched as the carriage
grew smaller and smaller, until it disappeared completely from
sight. He felt sad, because he knew that he would never see Miss
Krinkle again. But even though his heart was more than a little
broken, the knowledge that Miss Krinkle would be thinking of him
more than made up for this pain. Indeed, he had never been so happy
in his life.
     
    THE END
     
     
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    Enjoy this free excerpt from the third
volume in the Ezra Melamed Mystery Series:
     
    Tempest in the Tea
Room

     

CHAPTER
I
     
    “ Re…be…cca! Reh…! Beh…! Beh…! ”
    “ Rebecca, why do you vex the child, when Isaac cannot speak?
Your time would be more profitably spent in helping us hem these
clothes.” Mrs Rose Lyon gave her daughter a disapproving glance and
then returned her attention to the tiny dress that sat in her
lap.
    Rebecca
stroked the cheek of her nephew, Master Isaac Goldsmith, age four
weeks, to reassure the infant that his inability to articulate the
name of his eldest (and surely favourite) aunt was no aspersion on
either his intelligence or his affectionate nature. “You want to
say my name. I know you do,” she whispered. When she was greeted by
a smile, or something that seemed very like, she, in turn, was
reassured that her high estimation of her only nephew had not been
misplaced.
    “ Give me the dress, Mama, and I will hem it,” said the
infant’s mother, Mrs Hannah Goldsmith. “Rebecca is much better
employed in amusing Isaac.”
    Rebecca could
feel the tips of her ears turn red. She dearly loved her older
sister, considering Hannah to be everything that a Daughter of
Israel should be, but wished that Hannah had not brought up the
subject, even subtly, of Rebecca’s inability to sew her stitches in
an even line.
    “ She must learn to master the needle,” Mrs Lyon said with a
heartfelt sigh, plying her needle with expert motion. “What will people say
when her children enter the Great Synagogue with ragged hems and
uneven sleeves?”
    “ That is still several years away. She has ample time to
improve her needlework. The main thing is to want to improve, which
I am sure is a thing that Rebecca desires as much as you do. Is
that not so, Rebecca?”
    Rebecca did
not answer at once. The truth was that she much preferred to wield
a pen or a paintbrush than a needle, which always seemed to play
pranks with her fingers and make the most disconcerting movements
on the cloth. When she had heard Mr Franks, the father of her