Faye Kellerman: Street Dreams

“You’re a genius.”

“Be thankful that brains are inherited.”

They had decided on an afternoon tea because tea was more casual than dinner.

This was the menu.

Tray one: assorted finger sandwiches-egg salad, lox, tuna, cucumber with tomatoes, and cheese.

Tray two: finger food, including dainty bite-size potato knishes, miniature spinach quiches, vegetarian egg rolls, and fried pot stickers. Accompanying these edibles would be a soy sauce, a sweet-and-sour sauce, and ketchup.

Trays three and four: assorted breads, including but not limited to croissants, brioches, seed rolls, minibagels, olive and basil bread, and a caraway-seed rye. There was also butter, margarine, clotted cream, and strawberry jam for sides.

Trays five and six: the baked goods. Mini pecan pies, assorted mini fruit tarts, éclairs, petits fours, napoleons, cookies, muffins, scones, and cupcakes.

Tray seven: fresh fruit dipped in white and dark chocolate.

Tray eight was just plain fresh fruit.

Somewhere in Magda’s dining room, there was also tea, coffee, and mineral water.

Rina’s father was taking a nap, and the women were puttering around trying not to get on each other’s nerves. Decker had made himself comfortable in an armchair in the living room. He had dressed in a blue button-down shirt and tan slacks-no jacket-and loafers without socks. It was hot even in the city. He said, “I thought this was supposed to be informal.”

“Just a little something.” Magda paced. “I don’t know why you do this to me, Ginny.”

“Do what?” Rina asked.

“Dig up bones.”

“I got inspired after hearing you talk about your childhood.”

“You talk about your childhood. I don’t invite your old friends to your house.”

“Mama, I asked you first. You could have said no.”

“Then I look bad.” Magda stopped pacing and focused her flaming blue eyes on her daughter. “It’s my life, Ginny! Before you talked to Marta, you should have come to me first!”

“I should have, but I didn’t,” Rina answered calmly. “Again I apologize.”

“It is too late for that, nu? Now I am stuck! All week I bake and bake and bake-”

“I said I would do it for you, Mama.”

“And let them think I can’t take care of a simple afternoon tea?” Magda glared at Rina. “I’m old, but I have pride.”

“I know, Mama. And it’s good you baked. You’re a much better baker than I am.”

“ Ach … nonsense!” She waved her hand in the air. “You are an excellent baker!”

“Yes, I am, but I’m still not as good as you.”

Decker smiled inwardly. His wife was saying all the right things. He decided to help her out. “I really like what you’re wearing, Magda.”

She looked at Decker and brushed her hand over a St. John Knits blue suit with white trim. “This old thing?”

“It’s very complimentary to your figure,” Decker told her. “Plus, the color enhances your eyes. You should take your daughter shopping.”

That got a smile.

“You wouldn’t say that if you saw the price tag,” Rina told him.

“You look lovely as well,” Decker said. “I like you in red.”

Rina laughed. “Aren’t you full of lightness and cheer. Thank you, darling, I’m glad you like the way I look.”

“The dress is too long on you, Ginny.”

“Don’t start, Mama.”

“Let her start,” Decker piped in. “Bugging you is taking her mind off her anxiety.”

Both women laughed.

“I’ll get you some tea, Akiva?”

It was a good sign when Magda used his Hebrew name. Decker answered, “That would be great.”

“And a little sandwich, too?”

“No, I’d rather not mess up your artistic presentation.”

“I have extra in the kitchen.”

“That I’ll take. I have a quick question for you.”

“What?” Magda asked.

“You are playing host to two women in their eighties, two very skinny women. What in the world are you going to do with all the leftover food?”

“A little they’ll take home, some you take home. The boys will eat it all in one sitting.”

That was true.

Magda fussed with her clothes. “I get you tea and sandwiches. What kind?”

“Egg is fine.”

“Maybe a little tuna? I give you a little of this and that.”

“Perfect, Magda.”

She went into the kitchen.

Rina said, “Since when did you become the charmer?”

“She’s right. We should have gone to her first. We did put her in a bind.”

“She could have said no.”

“No, not really. It would have made her seem bitter or unfriendly or scared. You know your mother. Image is all.” Decker smiled. “I do like the red dress. I was being honest.”

“Thank you.” She ran her hands down the sides. “You think it’s too long?”

“I didn’t say it in front of her. But as long as you asked, you could easily take it up a couple of inches and still be fine.”

Rina crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. I’ll take it up.”

“I’m not saying you have to take it up-”

“Why are we having this inane conversation?”

“Because you’re nervous? To pass the time until the ladies get here? To fill in dead space?”

“Very funny.”

“Rina, this whole thing was your idea. Don’t drag me into an argument.”

“I did it for my mother.”

Decker didn’t answer.

“I really did,” she said with emphasis.

“I’m not arguing with you.”

“I just wanted some… some piece of her childhood that wasn’t marred by tragedy and death! Some closure for her.”

“I know that your heart was in the right place. But you know what they say about the road to hell.”

“I really don’t need to hear this! I think I’ll wait outside.”

“Rina-”

“No, I really think I need to wait outside!”

“Fine. See you later.”

In a huff, Rina left and Decker sat in a room devoid of female chatter. He loved women, but sometimes he needed to hear voices in the baritone range.

Or better still, no voices at all.

Magda returned, carrying a dessert plate that had a special indentation to hold a teacup. She served him the dish along with a cloth napkin. “Where is Ginny?”

“Outside.”

“They’re here? ”

“No, I think she’s just-”

“Why does she wait outside? It makes me look like I’m too anxious.”

“I think she’s a little anxious, too.”

Magda made a face. “What does she have to be anxious about? It isn’t her life.”

“No, that’s true,” Decker said. “But you are her mother and she wants it to go right for you.”

Magda exhaled. “Then she should have come to me first!”

“You’re right.”

Again the old woman exhaled. “I am still her mother. She is still my daughter. I go out and calm her down.”

“You’re a good woman,” Decker said.

“If you say that after this tea, then I believe you.”

Magda went outside.

Again Decker reveled in silence. He felt his eyes close, his mind turning slow and fuzzy. He had almost drifted off to sleep when a slamming car door made him snap to. Still sleepy, he almost stood up, nearly knocking his sandwich plate off his lap. But he remembered at the last moment and recovered the food before it became abstract art on Magda’s Aubusson rug. He placed the plate on one of the end tables and peeked out the window.

The driver was opening the door.

Anika came out first, dressed in a white blouse and green linen A-line skirt. Marta followed wearing a yellow cotton suit. Both of the women had donned jaunty little summer hats over their gray locks. Decker couldn’t hear words, but he certainly heard the screams.