Page 3 of In Just a Year
Ben desperately wanted to be part of it.
Instead, the rest of the day unfolded in sheer chaos. Rosie’s mother had started to bake immediately upon her arrival. Ben’s little nephew Joseph had broken the sac of flour.
“Don’t sit on the upholstery!” Ben’s mother called to one of his nephews, but it was no use. The other children joined the fun, and Gideon’s elegant terraced house was dusted in flour.
The whole family had gathered, including the Pearlers and later the Solomons, and the reunion was as noisy as it was heartfelt. One thing was clear: The Klonimuses, the Pearlers, and the Solomons were three special families among the Jews in London. What made them different united them, so much so that Ben had grown up with the Solomon children, their upbringing permeated by a desire to grow beyond the confines of traditional roles while still respecting them. It was an odd balancing act that few people could understand if they didn’t live it. Ben and his brothers had been raised strictly religious yet still had assimilated, attended university in Edinburgh, and become Crown Jewelers to George Augustus Frederick, Prince of Wales and Prince Regent. “Prinny,” for short, had brought his passion for the arts to St. James and had had such an open mind that the Klonimuses and the Pearlers were given the opportunity to earn their place, sharing the collective honor and immense responsibility as crown jewelers.
For the last few years, however, a Hungarian by the name of Richard Nagy had assumed the task of scrutinizing everything the Klonimuses did with the sole goal of removing the Jews from Prinny’s proximity. He held the view that Jews were pests, so he discredited every effort the Klonimuses and the Pearlers made to prove their merit. That was how the world worked; Jews were as welcome as rats in the alleys, preferably kept out of sight of the aristocrats.
Ben had grown up with the reality of this bias against his family and their closest friends although he’d never been in Nagy’s direct line of fire; his older brothers had shielded him from harm. Unfortunately, his older brothers also shielded him from showing that he’d grown up.
Of all the children he grew up with, the closest in age to Ben was Esther Solomon, the ebony-haired beauty who smiled at him from the other side of the room as she patted her little sister sending a cloud of flour into the air. Esther was the Rabbi’s third-eldest daughter. Her older sister, Hannah, was married to Arnold Ehrlich, Gustav Pearler’s nephew, which meant little to the world but the world to them because it inextricably connected the families. As usual, the Klonimuses, Pearlers, and Solomons were one. They formed their own little community within the Jewish community by virtue of their education, ambition, and noble clientele. They were a distinguished bunch and Ben loved being part of them. One day, he planned to prove his worth.
While Ben’s older brothers were closer in age to the Pearlers, Ben had always had an eye for Esther. Her silky hair danced in a gentle breeze as if they were strands of onyx over moonlit waves. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
He longed to approach her, but her family trusted his, especially since his parents had helped the Solomons after Esther’s mother died a few years ago. She was off limits like a sister—even though there was no relation. Ben would never make advances that might not be welcome … and he didn’t dare ask for the Rabbi’s permission to propose before he’d graduated from university and proved that he deserved his place in the Diamond Dynasty.
In the latest turn of events, life had taken an unexpected detour for Ben. He’d taken a term off to help Gideon with his passage back to England, eager to travel to France to distract himself from Esther but to no avail. Everything he did somehow circled back to her, as if she were the epicenter of his existence.
It was even worse now than during his studies in Edinburgh. Ben was an excellent swimmer with an affinity for adventure, and he’d climbed the Scottish cliffs and dived into the icy Atlantic to divert his mind from his infatuation with Esther. At first, the cold shock on his skin and the hard splash into the dark and salty depths cooled his body when he thought of her, but recently, the athletic endeavor had failed to quell his ardor.
Ben hadn’t expected to see her again so soon upon his return from France and was taken by her beautiful smile. His insides churned with the desire to approach her—not as he had as a boy but with the sincerity of a man’s heart. Still, he feared he’d not measure up to Esther. Like Queen Esther in the Purim story they often performed as children, she was a presence in every room as bright as the sparkling chandeliers at a ball. Even though she was only eighteen, Esther had proven herself in more ways than the highest peers of the realm. She’d helped her older sister Hannah raise their younger siblings. She’d led their studies and overseen their education even before Rabbi Solomon had a governess. And when Hannah couldn’t maintain the Jewish community newspaper, Esther took over. Ben was in awe of her.
The only way Ben thought he could earn his place in the Diamond Dynasty and finally gather the courage to ask the Rabbi for permission to court Esther was to find one of the jewels in Izaac Pearler’s treasure hunt. But there were two problems. One: he still had two terms left at university and didn’t want to take another term off to delay his graduation. Two: Nagy would indubitably question his whereabouts; the slightest deviation of his work as a crown jeweler could jeopardize all of their security in that prestigious role, regardless of how small it was. Any reason to take down the Jews would be one for Nagy to cling to.
The most delicious scents of butter and vanilla wafted through the house but failed to stop Ben from listing the problems in his life and the obstacles that kept him from Esther. Ben tried to find a quiet spot away from the many excited children and chatter but where he could see Esther and not be caught watching her.
His mind alternated between Izaac’s intriguing puzzle and the question of whether, when, and how he could approach Esther. She was a treasure he couldn’t take and yet the longing bubbled within him stronger than a volcano threatening to explode.
CHAPTER2
“Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.” Esther counted the strokes of her boar bristle hair brush. Much had happened today and she cherished the moments in the evening before bed, when she could think. It had grown dark outside and the clip-clopping of horses hooves faded into the sounds of the night. She cast a look out her window when a streetlight flickered and went off. The day stilled as the lights went out, and her mind began to churn. She didn’t have time to stop and think about him while she was busy with her younger siblings, for there were seven of them. Now she did.
Esther sat in her room, but her mind remained at the dinner she’d attended at the Klonimus’ house in honor of Gideon’s return. Secretly, Esther was delighted that Ben had been there. Her old friend, her best friend, well, at least until he left for university. He’d always been her partner in play, her seeker when hiding, her protector in pillow fights at family gatherings, and her favorite opponent in games of cards. But at the age of seventeen, he’d left for university and she’d left the schoolroom to start working on the Community Circular. She’d inherited the little newspaper from her older sister, Hannah, but it took little of her time. Writing came easy to Esther. She had an opinion on everything and could readily play with words. There was no challenge and no mystery. Writing birth announcements, obituaries, reports of weddings, and the weekly parish essay about the current section of the Torah’s teachings were like homework. The challenge was small, the impact meager. Esther longed for a greater sort of excitement.
She set her brush on the white vanity table with the doily her mother had crocheted for her. It was pretty but she had no interest in such handicrafts. Shame on her. She chastised herself for failing to appreciate the comfort of her life, yet it seemed no more than a wait for a husband. And then, all she’d do was what she’d already done—lead a household and look after children—only she’d be the wife, not the oldest daughter in residence. The mother, not the older sister. But how was that different from her life now? She longed for different and didn’t know where to find it.
“Esti?” Her father whispered, whom she and her siblings lovingly called Tate. He’d knocked and peeked through the door. “I came to say good night.” He always did, just as he’d done for as long as she could remember. She was Esti, not Esther to him. Still, the little girl who’d danced the Quadrille, standing on his feet with a feather stuck in her hair, looking at him as if his eyes were the stars.
“Do you want a story?” he asked, holding her little sister’s hand. Ruthie was only two and named after their mother, who died the day Ruthie was born.
“Of course, Tate. I’d love a story.” Esther beamed as Ruthie hopped into her arms.
Esther loved these moments when the family cherished their togetherness. With so many chores and high expectations for her brothers’ education, these moments had become rare. Hannah had taken over much of the mother role to Ruthie, but since she’d moved to the Pearlers and had a baby with Arnold herself, Esther and Tate tried to give Ruthie all the love they feared she’d missed since their mother’s passing had left such a gaping hole in the family.
“Dreidel, dreidel!” Ruthie called out when she toppled backward as she tried to pull off her frilly stockings. Tate unfolded the covers and fluffed the pillow.
“Which dreidel? It’s not Hanukkah yet,” Tate said.
“Spo-o-o-oky dreidel!” Ruthie’s voice came foreboding as if she were about to tell a story with ghosts and pirates.
Esther chuckled.
“My maidales.” He called them all hismaidales, sweet girls, and even Hannah. Lea, their oldest sister, who’d married a young Rabbi in Birmingham, was still his sweet girl. When Tate looked at his children, wrinkles appeared at the edges of his eyes, as if all the love, worry for their wellbeing, and longing for mother could be buried in the folds around his eyes. He sat on the edge of the bed when Esther cuddled Ruthie. Tate smiled indulgingly at Ruthie and winked at Esther. It was a reflection that so much of her life was dominated by child’s play, stories, and homework, and so little was like that of an almost-nineteen-year-old although she was essentially an adult.
Tate raised his brows at Esther. “Which spooky dreidel do you mean?”
“I think she overheard some of the commotion today.” Esther turned to Ruthie. “Do you mean the Dreidel of Destiny?”
