Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Keep Me As An Apple of Your Eye - 37. January 6 - Epiphany
Monday, January 6
Epiphany
Almighty God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness,
and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life.
Book of Common Prayer 1789
Abraham and Rachel had arrived in Richmond on the afternoon of January 5th for the Twelfth Night party. There was much singing and merriment. They knew their lives would change significantly with their sons marrying into such a socially well-connected family in Virginia. Abraham reflected that he was glad they lived in Newport because they could never repay all of the social debts by living in Richmond. Of course, he didn’t think about the fact that he would not have been included into the society events in Richmond if they lived in this very southern city.
When the idea of planning for the wedding started, Rachel had offered for everyone to come to Newport but was glad when the boys said they wanted to meet in the south where it was marginally warmer. Abraham and Rachel graciously accepted Marjorie’s invitation to stay with them. Flying and staying in hotels on a regular basis had the potential to stretch their budget especially as they had to help pay for a big wedding.
Lunch was going to be a working meal at the country club. Marjorie had suggested this time of socializing and working together. She felt it would build the bond between the two families. The boys had made basic decisions and their mothers had started planning options.
Robert and Abraham were sitting in the family room having a drink that morning and getting to know each other. They found a lot in common since they both worked in finance. Robert was a director in an investment firm and Abraham was an accountant with his own firm. Abraham was so happy when Robert picked up a “Wall Street Journal” earlier that morning for them to read. Abraham read it cover to cover every day. He would now have less catching up to do when he and Rachel returned to Newport.
“So tell me about your family, Abraham. Does everyone call you Abraham or do you have a nickname?”
“Most people just call me boss.”
They both laughed.
“Actually, I am sometimes called Abe at some social gatherings and I have become fond of the name. It is so less formal and doesn’t sound as Biblical as Abraham. I like that.”
“Is it okay if I call you Abe?”
“Yes, may I call you Bob?”
They looked at each other and they started laughing at the same time.
“Okay, Robert it is.”
“I have a question. Actually, I have many questions. First, I think we need to give our wives a budget for this wedding. Marjorie can get very carried away.”
Abe looked uneasy. He wasn’t of old money like Robert and Marjorie. Robert could sense the reticence in Abraham.
“I have a couple or three ideas. Please tell me ‘no’ if any of these don’t work. Option 1 is that you pay for the wedding and Marjorie and I will pay for the reception. Option 2 is that Tayloe and Todd pay for the wedding and you, Rachel, Marjorie and I will pay for the reception or Option 3 is that we split everything fifty-fifty.”
Abe still looked uncomfortable.
“I think I can trust you Robert so I will lay my cards on the table.” He named how much money he and Rachel had set aside for their sons’ weddings. It was more generous that Robert expected. Surely, to double that amount of money would allow the parents to give their boys away in style.
“Abe, I suggest Marjorie and I match that amount and today we put that number on the table. If the boys want to spend more money, then they have to come up with the additional funds. If they spend less then we will put it into annuities for their children.”
Abe’s eyes grew wide.
“We want grandchildren so badly. We had reconciled ourselves to the fact that we would never have them.”
“There will be grandchildren if Marjorie has anything to do with it. She has long wanted to be a grandmother and will figure out a way for that to happen.”
Marjorie had reserved a private dining room at the club. Everyone showed up with papers and folders. Marjorie had said it was a working meeting and all of her years with the Junior League had prepared her to conduct such a gathering. She already knew the outcome goal for the day.
A buffet of soups, salads and sandwiches was set up along with various drinks; sweet ice tea being the predominant beverage offered. All of the Emmanuelsons however asked for hot tea. They never drank cold tea in the winter. The wait staff quickly switched out the sweet tea and everyone started drinking hot tea.
Marjorie had brought a gavel with her and laughingly said it was from her years of running meetings. She then said that with six hard headed men, she or Rachel might need to use it to knock some sense into people. As soon as she said that she looked at Eron and grimaced. “I apologize my dear, Eron. I meant no offense.”
“Don’t apologize Mama R., he never had any sense to knock out of his head.” Erick knew exactly the right thing to say so that everyone laughed. He had started calling Marjorie, Mama R. and Eron had started doing the same thing. Todd and Tayloe called Mrs. Emmanuelson, Mama E. All of the boys called their fathers, sir, dad, or Mr. Emmanuelson or Mr. Reynolds. There was no abbreviating their names.
Robert interrupted and said that he and Abe had met earlier in the day. When he called Mr. Emmanuelson, Abe, every head in the room snapped around to look at Abraham. Abe grinned and said he loved the name.
“Anyway, we met this morning about finances. We are both finance men and we want to set some parameters early in the game.” He named a figure that the parents would provide for the wedding and reception. “Anything more than that comes from the boys’ bank accounts. If you do not spend all of it, we will put it in a trust for your children.”
Rachel and Marjorie both teared up and hugged each other.
“Well, Marjorie, I think we can find places to cut back so that there is money for our grandchildren. Do you agree?”
The women continued to hug.
“Well, husband, you certainly know how to derail our meeting from the start. Do you gentlemen have anything more to add?”
“Nope, in fact, there is a poker game this afternoon and Abe and I will get out of your hair so you and the boys can decide how this is going to work.”
Abe and Robert thanked everyone for lunch and then got up to join a poker game. Abe said he hoped they won enough money to pay for this extravagant wedding. They laughed and put their arms across each other’s shoulders.
Rachel stood. “First on the agenda is the location for the wedding.” Rachel had moved to a white board that had been rolled into the room. There were questions on the board that had been prewritten. She held up a marker and was ready to write the answers.
The men looked at each other.
“We have a dilemma. Todd and I want it at Bruton Parish Church. Eron and Tayloe want it at Ohev Shalom, the National Synagogue, in Washington, DC. We can’t seem to reach agreement.”
Marjorie put on her business face. “So, has it been decided that this is a Jewish wedding ceremony?”
All four of the men said “no” at the same time.
“This is so difficult.” Todd sounded whiny though he didn’t mean to sound like a petulant child.
Marjorie had led enough strategic planning sessions that she asked Rachel if she could lead them through a planning exercise. Rachel sat down, looked at Marjorie and said, “Good luck with this crowd.” That broke the ice and everyone laughed. Marjorie spent an hour helping them articulate what was important, who was important in their lives they wanted at the wedding, and what the ceremony represented to them as couples.
“I have a suggestion, Mama R.”
“Yes, Erick?”
“I know we have a budget though old money bags here that I am marrying has lots of cash that he does not want to spend. My guess is that his brother feels the same way. So, in the olden days, people would travel to a wedding and there would be a feast that would last seven days. Seven being the number of days in creation and Shabbat. Can we hold a seven-day wedding feast?” Todd and Tayloe did everything except throw their tea cups at Erick. Marjorie used her gavel to get them back on track. Erick turned to Todd. “Listen to me, my love. If we start with a ceremony in Washington, DC on a Saturday night. It will no longer be Shabbat and we can hold the ceremony in the synagogue and then a celebration at a hotel ballroom in town. Many of our families and friends from New England can attend as well as Eron’s work friends. We can then have small dinner parties all week. We would start with one in Newport, then one or two in Washington, then in Richmond, then in Williamsburg. We could ask different people to host them which means the cost would not come from our budget. The following Saturday, we would have a second ceremony at Bruton Parish church. Then we either have the reception in Williamsburg or everyone can drive to Richmond for the reception. If there are a couple of dinner parties in Richmond during the week there is less pressure about having the reception in Richmond.”
Everyone looked stunned. Rachel got up from her chair, walked around the table and then kissed Erick on the cheek. “You were always the smart one.” She winked at Eron as she said that. No one bothered to say that Erick had proposed an eight day celebration instead of seven because it didn’t matter.
“Let me get all of that information on the board.”
From there they worked through all of the agenda items including suggested hosts for the parties throughout the week.
“I bet Yonatan and Matan will host a party for us.” Todd was ready to call them that very minute.
“We have plenty of time, we are not getting hitched until May.”
“I know, but they are spending the summer in Brussels and Paris. We need to get on their calendar.”
“Okay, we will see them at school this week and ask if they will host a dinner. We have to include them in the services. It is only right since they asked us to participate in theirs.”
“We need to meet with Rabbis and Priests to make sure they will conduct the services. A lot of people frown on interfaith marriages, especially Rabbis. Plus, we are all men. There will be no bride walking down the aisle. We also have to decide who is going to be in the wedding party and then plan the wedding service. I appoint Eron to do this work while he is sitting around doing nothing.”
The good-natured uproar started again. They knew that everything would work out and all would be well.
Meanwhile, Robert and Abe had finished playing poker. They did not win enough money to pay for the wedding or even their afternoon cocktails. They were sitting in club chairs enjoying themselves while waiting for the wedding planning meeting to end.
“Abe, answer a question for me, if you can. Do you know a Rebekah Emmanuelson?”
“No. We don’t know anyone in Newport by that name.”
“Let me rephrase my question. Are you related to anyone named Rebekah Emmanuelson?”
“Well, my great aunt had that name. I never met her. She moved to Vienna and married a doctor. I was told they had a lot of money. They died and everything was lost during the Holocaust. Why do you ask?”
“Another question, if I may. Where did you live during the war?”
“My father sent me to Brussels. My great uncle by marriage, Oscar, who was Rebekah’s husband, told my father to send me to Brussels. My father was given the name of a doctor who would protect me as much as he could. I was taken in by a Catholic family during the war. I still know the Catholic Mass backwards and forwards. I remember that beautiful church: St. Catherine’s. Rachel and her family lived in Amsterdam. They hid also and somehow survived until the last year of the war. They were found and her parents died in concentration camps. She survived. My family were all killed. What is this about, Robert?”
“I am not sure, exactly. A Mr. Cohen may be calling you. He is a lawyer in New York. Apparently, he is well connected in Europe. I am doing some investment work for his firm. One of the foundations I am working with is named the Rebekah Emmanuelson Feldsher Foundation. I don’t know how common the Emmanuelson name was in Austria before the war.”
“Did you say Feldsher? That is the name of the doctor my great aunt married. I would love to know more about my family. I was sent away for my safety and they all died. I went back to Vienna after the war and found out I was the only survivor in my entire family. No trace of anyone. I didn’t stay in that horrible city, I got out as soon as I could.”
Robert had goosebumps on his arms. “One last question, do you know of a young man named Matan Abraham Jenner-Ward?”
Abe sat up straight in his chair. “I know the name. The word is he came into some great wealth recently. Also, when he and his husband were in Paris and Vienna this fall, they met with the Great Rabbis of those cities. Every day they met. That is unheard of. The Great Rabbis don’t have the time to meet with someone repeatedly. The word quickly moved through certain circles about the great potential of this young man. He is supposed to be very impressive. His husband is now managing the family investments. That would be a great investment account to have, huh. Imagine having that much money. I heard they live somewhere here in Virginia. Erick told me he knew of them at William and Mary.”
Robert sat thinking what a small world we all lived in. Could it possibly be? He would call Mr. Cohen the next day.
“What a Wonderful World”
Performer: Louis Armstrong
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CWzrABouyeE
I have grown to love these characters and it is sad for be to post this final chapter. Todd and Erick, and to a lesser degree, Tayloe and Eron, have roles in the next novel so they aren't going away. Actually, some exciting things will happen which will tie the brothers closer together in Virginia.
So, again, thank you for being a reader and I wish you the best in 2020.
Mac
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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