Page 23 of Dearest Beast
“Ah, Miss Adler, welcome.” Rising, Berab drew near, his arm outstretched, thankfully to guide, not touch, as was customary in their community.
While she was not a small woman, the Berabs were abnormally tall, and as usual, it bothered her to no end that she had to look upward to meet his eye. A mistake. The moment she caught his heavily lashed golden-brown gaze, she had to force herself to breathe, a memory of the same view, just before he thrust into her for the first time, roaring back into her consciousness. And instead of revolution, desire sparked in her completely meshuggeneh body.
“It’s good to see you up and about,” he said, unaffected by whatever fakakta reactions she had.
“I heard you had a prior engagement,” she managed to say as she placed her hands on the back of her seat.
“I did, but I declined.” Berab shrugged.
“You really didn’t need to,” she protested, glancing down at the striped cushion before her. “I’d hate for you to be unable to do important work on my account.”
“There’s nothing more important than being a good host,” he said, his voice irritatingly pompous. “I wanted to once again apologize, on behalf of myself and my daughter, for the damage to your home and to your belongings.”
“Thank you,” Rebecca murmured, taking her seat.
“Has Fannie spoken to you regarding the incident?” Berab asked, after finishing hamotzi.
“Yes.” She sniffed at the memory.
“Good.” He nodded as several footmen emerged from a small hidden door at the back of the room.
Good?Rebecca stifled a snort.
The man narrowed his eyes in her direction.
“She was quite put out that her actions resulted in my presence,” she explained after the staff had finished serving them cod in a red sauce, as well as garlicked peas and stewed potatoes.
“Was she?” He cocked his head. “Did she say something to that effect?”
“Yes.” She swallowed the fish—quite a bit saltier than the variety the Lira family served, though not unpleasant—before taking a large swig of wine.
“Are you sure?” Berab pressed, after taking a bit of his own food. “Perhaps you did not understand?”
The man had to be joking. She glared at him. “It’s quite difficult not to comprehend phrases like ‘you don’t belong here,’ and ‘you don’t deserve to eat.’ ”
“What was the context?” the momzer had the nerve to ask.
Her wineglass fell from her hand. Fortunately, a quite adept footman managed to catch it before it hit the floor.
She stared at her host. “Beg pardon?”
“The context? Of the quotations. It’s impossible to judge a matter without hearing all facts,” he told her, if such was a reasonable response.
Rebecca balled her fists beneath the table. “You don’t credit my analysis?”
“I didn’t say that,” Berab replied, his voice cool. He took his own sip of wine. “It’s merely surprising, as Fannie was trained by her mother and grandmother in social situations, and both—”
“Treated all people so well,” she murmured before taking another large bite of food. It was rather delicious, after all. And she was still hungry and could not properly think without fuel.
“They most certainly did.” Berab’s voice rose in clear irritation, giving her a perverse sort of pleasure. Perhaps because, as Fannie had pointed out, she was indeed mean.
“Did they?” Rebecca tutted as she recalled their limited interactions. Most involved the two lauded ladies forgetting she wasn’t a servant but another guest in the Lira household. “Or was such curtesy reserved for those whom they deemed necessary to maintain their own status?”
“Are you accusing my late wife and her mother of impropriety?” A dangerous note entered his tone.
Rebecca smiled. Oh yes, she was winning. She scooted forward in her chair.
“No. Merely elitism,” she told him. “A charge that fits more than those two members of this household.”
