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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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. 

593 Riverside Drive - 20. Chapter 20

“That would be insulting if it weren’t so hysterical,” Herbert continued.

“It’s hard to believe that man has a license to practice,” Essie added. “He seems more like a village idiot.”

“To be fair,” my father countered, “Joe said that Benno only occasionally handled divorce cases.”

“Then why did Joe choose him?” Mama asked.

“He wanted someone he knew,” Papa offered. “Someone he was comfortable with.”

“Well, he’s not making Ella comfortable,” Mama protested.

Ella listened while we talked and then sat quietly when we all turned to her. “I think I’ve said enough today,” she finally allowed.

And we all laughed.

“Why did Benno Lewinson feel the douche bag was so important?” Essie went on.

“I’m not sure that he did,” I pointed out. “It might be more that he was trying to upset Ella.”

“Did it work?” Essie questioned.

“Not from what I’ve seen,” my mother reported. “Ella just told him everything he wanted, as if she were ordering from a restaurant menu.”

“I can’t let him fluster me,” Ella insisted. “I try not to even think about how foolish it all seems.”

“That’s what Dr. Gildersleeve says,” I supported. “She says there are so many laws that need to be changed about divorce – and not just those concerning women.”

“Do you have any idea what tomorrow will be like?” Herbert asked. “Lewinson can’t go on about the douche bag. There’s nothing left to say.”

“It may be his way of confirming dates and times,” my father suggested. “Maybe being more specific would embarrass him.”

“I doubt that,” my mother contradicted. “I don’t think anything is below him.”

Ella returned to what Herbert had said. “I asked Max the same question about tomorrow as we were leaving the courthouse. He only knew that it will continue with my cross-examination.”

“Did Joe say anything?” I asked. “I saw you talking with him.”

Ella smiled. “He asked once more – and very nicely – if I didn’t simply want to come home – if I really wanted to put myself through this. I asked him – as pleasantly – if he saw any other solution. When we both laughed, he hugged me and said he’d see me in the morning.” She hesitated. “Then I sent my love to Laurie and Laurette and made sure Laurie understood why I wasn’t seeing him this week. Joe joked, ‘He thinks you’re away in Paris – flicking your skirts at the Follies.’ I said I’d be more likely to be at the Louvre – admiring the Italian sculpture.”

“You could see Laurie now,” I pointed out.

“I’d like that, but it would disturb his schedule with Katie. Besides, you know I don’t like driving at night, especially in the city.”

“I’m sure Joe would send his car,” Mama suggested.

“I’m sure, too,” Ella agreed. “But I don’t want to be asking favors, especially now. Besides, if he’s staying in – and he really doesn’t like to go out after work – that means the chauffeur’s already free.”

“Does Max really think the trial will take four more days?” Essie went on.

“Well, it’s only been one, and look how they’ve been questioning me. And they still have the doctors... And our staff... And, of course, Joe.”

“Won’t he just say what you have?” Essie wondered. “It’s not like there’s any doubt.”

“I don’t know what Joe will be asked,” Ella explained, “and I doubt he does. Though I’m sure Benno has prepared him as well as Max has me.”

“I’m not sure Benno would embarrass Joe the way he has you,” Papa observed. “Also – from what I’ve heard – Benno prepares less and then makes the best of situations.”

“How well do you know him?” I asked. “I’ve never heard you and Mama mention him before.”

“We only know him and his wife socially,” my mother replied, “and we’re hardly close. Occasionally, we’ll see them at a charity dance.”

“Or at a banquet,” my father added, “and I’m sure they’re asked to far more than Herbert and I are.”

“We’re small businessmen,” my uncle conceded. “We have a good store on a respectable section of Madison Avenue, but it’s only one store. Joe has three – in Jersey City, Newark, and Elizabeth – and he owns at least one of their buildings.”

“Probably two,” Papa corrected. “But he still doesn’t get invited by the same charities as Benno.”

“Because Benno lives in the city,” Herbert noted, “and goes to Bar Harbor in the summers instead of Asbury Park.”

“And they own their cottage,” Ella added, “which is far larger than it sounds.”

“Where does Joe know him from?” I asked.

“They’re both from Jersey City,” my father explained. “They were childhood friends, neither as wealthy as they are now. Joe’s father – like your grandfathers – was a business representative – a traveling salesman. But once Benno succeeded, he crossed the river.”

“And he’s a professional,” Herbert appended, “not in business. That makes a difference.”

“It’s not why I’m studying law,” I assured them all. “The same way Howard won’t be studying medicine for the money. He wants to helps the kind of men who were injured in the war.”

“Helping is still a while off,” my father counseled, “for both of you. Just now, we need to consider what Ella has to face in the morning – and if there’s any way we can make that easier.”

“Will you be all right?” Essie echoed, as concerned.

Ella again smiled. “What other choice do I have?”

Copyright © 2023 RichEisbrouch; All Rights Reserved.
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
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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I love the conversation around the table as it shows what a close-knit family they are. 

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Thanks.  It's fun to hang out with these people and listen in.  And next time, the group expands slightly.

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