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Early Shabbos afternoon Jake found himself longing for Mindy’s company. He’d not only fallen in love with her, but also with the scrumptious Friday night and Saturday Shabbos meals they enjoyed together.
He thought their relationship was okay after Mindy explained why she refused to marry him, and he agreed to let that go to be with her.
But he still had the ring. It was just sitting there in his bedside drawer.
Earlier that week, he got the bright idea to wrap it, and give it to her—not as a marriage proposal, but as a gift.
But when she unwrapped it the excitement in her eyes turned to anger. She threw it at him. “How could you! After all we went through. You said you understood. But you don’t. You just don’t get it.”
No matter how much Jake emphasized it was just a gift she wasn’t having it.
She insisted he leave, and told him not to bother coming for Shabbos.
He hoped she would have calmed down, and made up before Shabbos.
But that didn’t happen.
How could Mindy just shut off the feelings he knew she still had for him?
He knew he couldn’t.
Driving on Shabbos was prohibited so Jake took advantage of the crisp sunny weather, and walked to West Roger’s Park where Mindy still lived. They used to walk off Shabbos lunch together by strolling through Indian Boundary Park, so that’s where he headed in hope of catching her there.
He followed the North Shore Channel Trail south enjoying the white noise whoosh of McCormick Boulevard traffic while dodging the occasional jogger or biker.
Jake entertained himself on the long journey thinking about how he was going to find out who owned those eyeglasses. He suspected they would know something about Muttle’s death, or at the very least could pinpoint his whereabouts at a given time.
The eyeglass case was embossed with the name of the Optometrist. Given the unusually thick lenses he reasoned that it should be easy for them to search their files for the name of the patient. He wasn’t sure if HIPAA laws would be a problem. He might need Roberts to help but figured he’d take it one step at a time.
It was late afternoon by the time he arrived at the park. He stopped just to rest for a minute on the first bench he encountered, but he fell into a deep sleep. The crisp air, sunshine, and exercise had taken their toll.
“Jake? Jake! Are you okay?” a voice yelled.
After realizing he wasn’t dreaming, he opened his eyes, and saw grass and dirt through the old bench’s wooden slats. He felt the grip of a hand shaking his shoulder.
“Thank God! I thought you were dead!”
He recognized the voice as the one he longed to hear.
He pushed himself up to meet Mindy’s eyes. He could see the love reflecting his.
“Oh, hi Mindy. No—not dead, just dead-tired I guess.”
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“I walked from Evanston,” Jake explained. “It’s such a nice day so—"
“You walked here? You could’ve just walked to Central Park in Skokie. That’s much closer to you,” she said. “Why are you really here?”
“I just don’t understand what happened. All I did was try to give you a nice gift. I know you love me. I see it in your eyes.”
“Of course I love you,” Mindy said. “I couldn’t stop loving you even if I wanted to.”
“So why did you do that to us again? Why did you shut me out? I really need to know,” Jake pleaded. “What did I do wrong this time?”
“I’m sorry. I know you meant well, but that ring just triggers something in me,” she replied. “You know—the whole marriage thing.”
“I get that,” Jake said, “but I just wanted you to have it as a gift.”
“Even as a gift it bothers me,” Mindy replied. “I know it makes no sense. Can you forgive me?”
Jake stood and took her hands in his. “Of course I do.”
“So, are we good?” Mindy asked.
“Yes,” Jake said, “but I wish you’d tell me how you feel when it happens. I’ve spent the last few days torturing myself trying to figure out what I did wrong.”
He pulled her close, looked deeply into her eyes, and softly kissed her forehead.
Mindy took Jake’s hand, turned around, and tugged him forward. “Come on mister. Let me make it up to you with a nice shaleshudes meal.”
The third Shabbos meal— shaleshudes was usually Jake’s least favorite Shabbos meal. But Mindy had a way of turning it into a culinary treat.
They walked the few blocks to Mindy’s apartment on Lunt, hand-in-hand.
Jake sat at the tiny kitchen table sipping a tall glass of iced tea watching Mindy work her magic.
While she busied herself, Jake brought her up to speed on Muttle’s death investigation.
“The Optometrist’s name and address is embossed on the case, and the thick lenses are pretty unique,” Jake said. “I’m planning to go there to see if they can tell me who has that exact prescription.”
“What ‘s the Optometrist’s name?” Mindy asked.
“I think it was Eisenman, or Eisen-something “ Jake said.
“Eisenstein?” Mindy asked. “Freddy Eisenstein?”
“Yes—that’s it,” Jake said. “You know him?”
“Sort of,” Mindy said while sliding a small cookie sheet out of the fridge.
When she laid it on the kitchen table Jake could see it had a pre-baked flat layer of dough.
“I used to take Adam there for his glasses,” she explained, referring to her oldest son who was now grown with kids of his own.
“A lot of the Ultra-Orthodox crowd go to him. He’s a Sopoynik Chassid. Actually he’s the rebbe’s gabbai.”
Jake watched Mindy glaze the crust with lemon pie filling, then meticulously organize fruit into rows of contrasting colors. She began with a row of blueberries along one edge followed by a row of banana slices, and followed that with a row of kiwi slices. She repeated the pattern until the crust was completely covered with colorful rows of fruit.
It was a work of art.
She started cutting it into squares, and gently laying them out on a serving platter.
There was a loud knock on her front door.
“You expecting someone?” Jake asked.
“No,” She said, giving Jake a puzzled look.
He followed her to the front door.
She peered through the peephole, then slid the security chain open, and swung the door wide to greet her tall lanky unshaven visitor.
“Hi Harold! Good Shabbos. Come on in. It’s so good to see you.”
Jake’s nose twitched in response to the pungent odor that filled the entire living room the moment Harold stepped inside.
“Harold, this is my—this is Jake Cooper.”
Jake offered his hand while sizing up Harold.
There was something familiar about him.
An oversized blue and white knitted yarmulke was perched on his head. His gray wool suit looked like it shrunk in the wash. The open collar of his yellowed, white dress shirt revealed sweat stains around the neck. The yellowed cuffs were exposed by the shrunken suit jacket sleeves. An old Lord Elgin watch peered out from beneath the left sleeve. His dirty, white socks screamed out between his untied black wingtips, and his shrunken trouser legs.
Jake pulled Mindy aside. “Can we talk privately for a minute?”
Mindy gave Jake a puzzled look, then said to Harold, “Make yourself comfortable on the couch. I’ll get us some refreshments.”
She followed Jake back to the kitchen.
One of the things he wanted to ask her was why she didn’t introduce him as her boyfriend, but that would have to wait.”
“Who is this guy?”
“Harold’s parents were close with my parents,” Mindy explained. “They used to visit each other nearly every Shabbos afternoon. His parents were murdered by terrorists shortly after they moved to Israel.”
Jake shook his head. “That’s awful,” he said.
“Harold was a brilliant attorney—made partner at his firm,” Mindy continued. “But he snapped after they were killed.”
“When did that happen?” Jake asked.
“It was a long time ago, but he still lives in his parent’s old house. Most of the time he just wanders the streets.”
Mindy set the kitchen table with the fruit tart, and a tall pitcher of iced tea.
She fetched Harold from the living room, and they all sat in the kitchen for shaleshudes.
“Now I remember!” Jake blurted. “I knew you looked familiar. Didn’t I see you sitting outside the KFC next to the mikvah?”
Mindy shot an angry stare at Jake.
“Ignore him,” she said to Harold.
“No,” Harold replied. “Jake is absolutely correct. That’s one of my favorite places to people-watch. I see lots of fascinating people order at the drive through, and then park to eat. It's entertaining.”
“Really?” Jake asked. “What’s so fascinating about that?”
“Usually it’s about how different people look, and how they go about devouring their food. But sometimes it’s more about who I see.”
“Now that sounds interesting,” Jake exclaimed. “Who are the most interesting people you’ve seen there?”
Mindy shot another dagger look at Jake, and shook her head.
But Harold seemed excited to share. “Oh, I’ve seen some local politicians, and the occasional TV personality. But I’ve seen several people from the community pull through there that shouldn’t be eating at KFC.”
Jake replied, “Well, they might just be getting a drink—there’s nothing technically un-kosher about that.”
“True,” Harold admitted. “Still, they shouldn’t be going there. Plus, I’ve seen some order more than just a drink.”
“Maybe they bought food for someone else,” Jake suggested, trying to defend their actions.
“Okay,” Harold conceded. “But I saw one of them order chicken, and then park to eat it themselves. One of those Sopoynik Chassidim—that guy with the funny ear. He was driving an old blue box van with white lettering—some kind of security business.”
“Benny Chinsky?” Jake asked. “You saw Benny Chinsky eating KFC chicken?”
“Ya—that’s his name, Benny,” Harold said. “I’ve seen him around town driving that van.