Hardbingers

2

Jack had an idea as he watched Gia zip up Vicky's blue winter coat before taking her to wait for the school bus.

"Hey, why don't we give Vicky the day off and the three of us go out for breakfast?"

Vicky's blue eyes lit. "Yeah! Pancakes!"

Gia didn't look up as she wrapped a red-and-white striped scarf around her daughter's neck.

"Skip school? We need an occasion for that."

"How about my last day in town for a while?"

Now she looked up at him. "You mean…?"

He hadn't had a chance to tell her yet; had planned to as soon as Vicky was gone, but the thought of Vicky on a bus this morning gave him a crawly feeling in his gut. He didn't want either of them out of his sight.

He nodded. "Abe says everything is ready."

Her face fell. "Oh."

"I thought you'd be happy."

"I did too."

"Where you going, Jack?" Vicky looked worried. "To Shangri-la like you said?"

Jack had told her that last month when he'd thought he was going somewhere with no road back. This time it was to a boat slip in a Fort Lauderdale marina. He planned to stop by Abe's later this morning for the exact address.

"This is a lot closer, Vicks. Florida. And it's not for long. Less than a week."

She grinned and jumped up and down. "Can I go? Can we all go to Disney World?"

"Maybe in the spring," Gia said as Jack helped her rise to standing.

"But I wanna go now! It's hot all the time there, isn't it? I can go swimming!"

Jack wondered how an offer for breakfast had turned into a trip to Disney World. Things happened so fast with kids.

"How about breakfast first?" He looked at Gia. "She gets straight A's, so one day of hooky won't matter. Please?"

Gia shrugged. "Why not? We'll make it a family breakfast." She patted her swelling tummy. "All four of us."

"Great. Where?"

"How about Kosher Nosh?"

"Again?"

She patted her tummy again. "Baby wants lox."

Though something of a vegetarian—she'd eat eggs—Gia had added fish to her diet during the pregnancy.

"Then Kosher Nosh it is."

The small deli-restaurant up on Second Avenue was only a few blocks away, so they walked.

"I still don't get this kosher thing," Jack said as they ambled west on 58th. "How'd this happen?"

She shrugged and lapsed into Abe's accent. "You want I should explain taste? I'm talking apricot ruggalach, poppy-seed twists, onion bialys. What's not to like?"

Jack laughed. "Hey, that's good. You could move to Boro Park. The weird thing is, Abe was raised in an orthodox home and he won't touch the stuff."

Gia gave him a dubious look. "You mean there's something Abe won't eat?"

"That's what he says."

"So if I put a cheese blintz in front of him he wouldn't eat it?"

"Well, I guess he'd make an exception for that."

Kosher Nosh had an old-time luncheonette look, with Formica-topped tables and chrome napkin dispensers. They took a table near the back. A harried, scowling, middle-aged waitress brought them menus. A younger woman usually waited this table.

"Where's Aviva?" Gia said.

The waitress ran a hand through her hair. "Didn't show up."

She took their drink orders—coffee, tea, and milk—then hustled away.

Vicky made a face. "She's not very nice."

"She's overloaded today, hon," Gia said. "Take it from someone who's waited her share of tables. You can get frazzled."

Jack felt a warm glow as he watched mother and daughter study their menus. Two years ago, this situation, these feelings would have been unimaginable.

"They still don't have bacon," Vicky said.

She had a way to go before she grasped the kosher thing. Jack knew a little, but it still made no sense to him.

"Oh, look," Gia said. "Here's something I haven't tried: sauerkraut pierogies."

Jack grimaced. "For breakfast?"

"Hey, I'm pregnant. That means I get a special dispensation from the rules." She put down her menu and looked at him. "I can't read you this morning, Jack. What are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling I don't want to see someone eating sauerkraut pierogies for breakfast."

"Seriously."

He thought about that.

"I feel strange. Really strange. Like I'm giving up the real me, but the real me is really someone else. So I'm really giving up the fake me who's become more real than the real me. That make any sense?"

"From anyone else, no—I'd think you'd been smoking something. But from you? Perfect sense."

The waitress returned, pencil poised over her pad.

"Figured it out yet?"

"I'll have the sauerkraut pierogies," Gia said.

"Boiled or fried?"

"What's the difference?"

The waitress deadpanned her. "One's boiled, one's fried."

Jack rubbed a hand over his mouth to hide a smile. On any other day he might have been annoyed, but no bombs had gone off this morning, so a grumpy waitress was something of a joy.

"I'll have the boiled," Gia said. Then she looked at him and laughed. "Don't you love this place?"