slightly rankled by it. “Are we trying for the moon?”
“We’ll be shooting off a few rockets,” the caterer replied humorlessly.
“When will this be?”
“As soon as it’s dark. This is going to be the goddamnedest wedding this neighborhood ever saw, you can bet on that.”
“Angela deserves it,” Darcy said.
“And Tommy, too,” Jonesy added, smiling at Christine. “Have you seen the mermaid, Miss Maxwell? Come, I’ll show it to you. They’ve already loaded the buckets of champagne. It’s fascinating.”
“Well…” Christine started, and she glanced hesitantly at Hawes.
“I’m sure Mr. Hawes won’t mind,” Jonesy said. “Come along.” He took her arm and led her to where the ice maiden lay on her side, protected from the sun by a shielding canopy. The base upon which she lay had been scooped out to form a frigid tub into which dozens of champagne bottles had been placed. It truly looked as if this was going to be one hell of a wedding. Hawes watched Christine amble away across the lawn, aware of a growing irritation within him. It was one thing to do a cotton-picking, bodyguarding favor, but it was another to have a girl snatched from right before your eyes.
“So what is this?” a voice beside him said. “The battleship Missouri?”
Hawes turned. The man standing before the fireworks scaffolding was short and slender with a balding pate fringed with white hair. His blue eyes held a merry twinkle. He studied the framework as if it were truly a wonder of the scientific age.
“I’m Birnbaum,” he said. “The neighbor. Who are you?”
“Cotton Hawes.”
They shook hands. “That’s an unusual name,” Birnbaum said. “Very unusual. Cotton Mather? The Puritan priest?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not a religious man, myself.”
“Neither am I.”
“Did you come from the wedding?”
“Yes,” Hawes said.
“Me, too. It was the first time in my life I’ve ever been inside a Catholic Church. I’ll tell you something. It’s a bubemeiseh.”
“What is?”
“That the walls will fall down if a Jew steps inside. I stepped inside and I stepped out again, and the walls—thank God—are still standing. Imagine if the walls had come down during my tsotskuluh’s wedding. A terrible thing to imagine! Oi, God, I would rather cut off my right arm. She looked lovely, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“A beautiful girl, Angela. I never had a daughter. I got a lawyer son, he’s now in Denver. My wife, poor soul, passed away three years ago. I’m alone in the world. Birnbaum. The neighbor. Well, at least I’m a neighbor, no?”
“A neighbor is a good thing to be,” Hawes said, smiling, liking the little man immensely.
“Certainly. But lest you think I’m a bum, I should tell you I am also a grocery store owner besides being a neighbor. Birnbaum’sGrocery. Right up the street. And I live over there. See the house? Been here for forty years and believe me when I first moved in people thought Jews had horns and tails. Well, times change, huh? It’s a good thing, thank God.” He paused. “I know both the children since they were born. Tommy and Angela. Like my own children. Both sweet. I love that little girl. I never had a daughter of my own, you know. So Tony’s having fireworks! My God, what a wedding this will be! I hope I live through it. Do you like my tuxedo?”
“It’s very nice,” Hawes said.
“The least I could do was rent a tuxedo when Tony’s daughter got married. It fits a little snug, don’t you think?”
“No, it looks fine.”
“Well, I’m not as slender as I used to be. Too much easy living. I got two clerks in my grocery store now. It’s not easy to buck the supermarkets. But I get by. Get by? Look how fat I’m getting. What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a theatrical agent,” Hawes said, relying upon the earlier fabrication. If someone meant to injure Tommy Giordano, he did not think it wise to advertise his profession.
“That’s a good
“We’ll be shooting off a few rockets,” the caterer replied humorlessly.
“When will this be?”
“As soon as it’s dark. This is going to be the goddamnedest wedding this neighborhood ever saw, you can bet on that.”
“Angela deserves it,” Darcy said.
“And Tommy, too,” Jonesy added, smiling at Christine. “Have you seen the mermaid, Miss Maxwell? Come, I’ll show it to you. They’ve already loaded the buckets of champagne. It’s fascinating.”
“Well…” Christine started, and she glanced hesitantly at Hawes.
“I’m sure Mr. Hawes won’t mind,” Jonesy said. “Come along.” He took her arm and led her to where the ice maiden lay on her side, protected from the sun by a shielding canopy. The base upon which she lay had been scooped out to form a frigid tub into which dozens of champagne bottles had been placed. It truly looked as if this was going to be one hell of a wedding. Hawes watched Christine amble away across the lawn, aware of a growing irritation within him. It was one thing to do a cotton-picking, bodyguarding favor, but it was another to have a girl snatched from right before your eyes.
“So what is this?” a voice beside him said. “The battleship Missouri?”
Hawes turned. The man standing before the fireworks scaffolding was short and slender with a balding pate fringed with white hair. His blue eyes held a merry twinkle. He studied the framework as if it were truly a wonder of the scientific age.
“I’m Birnbaum,” he said. “The neighbor. Who are you?”
“Cotton Hawes.”
They shook hands. “That’s an unusual name,” Birnbaum said. “Very unusual. Cotton Mather? The Puritan priest?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not a religious man, myself.”
“Neither am I.”
“Did you come from the wedding?”
“Yes,” Hawes said.
“Me, too. It was the first time in my life I’ve ever been inside a Catholic Church. I’ll tell you something. It’s a bubemeiseh.”
“What is?”
“That the walls will fall down if a Jew steps inside. I stepped inside and I stepped out again, and the walls—thank God—are still standing. Imagine if the walls had come down during my tsotskuluh’s wedding. A terrible thing to imagine! Oi, God, I would rather cut off my right arm. She looked lovely, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“A beautiful girl, Angela. I never had a daughter. I got a lawyer son, he’s now in Denver. My wife, poor soul, passed away three years ago. I’m alone in the world. Birnbaum. The neighbor. Well, at least I’m a neighbor, no?”
“A neighbor is a good thing to be,” Hawes said, smiling, liking the little man immensely.
“Certainly. But lest you think I’m a bum, I should tell you I am also a grocery store owner besides being a neighbor. Birnbaum’sGrocery. Right up the street. And I live over there. See the house? Been here for forty years and believe me when I first moved in people thought Jews had horns and tails. Well, times change, huh? It’s a good thing, thank God.” He paused. “I know both the children since they were born. Tommy and Angela. Like my own children. Both sweet. I love that little girl. I never had a daughter of my own, you know. So Tony’s having fireworks! My God, what a wedding this will be! I hope I live through it. Do you like my tuxedo?”
“It’s very nice,” Hawes said.
“The least I could do was rent a tuxedo when Tony’s daughter got married. It fits a little snug, don’t you think?”
“No, it looks fine.”
“Well, I’m not as slender as I used to be. Too much easy living. I got two clerks in my grocery store now. It’s not easy to buck the supermarkets. But I get by. Get by? Look how fat I’m getting. What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a theatrical agent,” Hawes said, relying upon the earlier fabrication. If someone meant to injure Tommy Giordano, he did not think it wise to advertise his profession.
“That’s a good
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