Little Pink Slips Part 28

"Does Frog Man have a name?"

"Daniel Cohen."

"A name that crosses borders," Magnolia said, "like the euro."

"He has piles of those. Grandmere is a Rothschild. They own vineyards." Abbey was practically bouncing. "So, will you come with me tomorrow afternoon when I get a get? Rabbi Nucki recommended that I bring a friend."

"As in nooky?"

"As in Nachum. Means 'wise.' "

"Sweetie, I'm so sorry, but I may be busy," Magnolia said. Every where, Magnolia heard doors slamming. She didn't want to be part of another ending, even if it was the conclusion of a marriage which never should have been.

"Busy how-cleaning your closets?"

"Don't mock your unemployed friend," Magnolia said. "Believe it or not, I have a job interview Wednesday, and I am devoting myself to maintenance-highlights, haircut, eyebrow and leg wax, manicure, and shoe shopping." Magnolia failed to mention that most of these events could wait for Tuesday. "But if this means a lot to you, I'll reschedule."

"Let's flip," Abbey said.

"Fair enough," Magnolia said. "Heads, I go." The brave on the buffalo nickel seemed to wink at her as he hit the table, face up. "Gogetter reporting for duty," she said. "Tell me where to be."

Monday afternoon, address in hand, Magnolia searched a street for a stately cross between the neo-cla.s.sic courthouse downtown- the one where Martha Stewart flirted with the press-and Temple Emanuel. Unless Abbey gave her the wrong information, however, the high rabbinical court of the land dwelt in a dingy, postwar building eas ily at home in any Communist-built section of Moscow. Magnolia checked the wall directory: twelfth floor, the Beth Din of America.

"Welcome," said a ruddy-faced receptionist, whose desk was crowded with a computer, an oversized box of tissues, and paper zin nias arranged in an empty seltzer bottle. She looked no older than twenty and wore a long, gathered denim skirt; a frilly, high-necked blouse, and a blond wig. "I'm Malka," she said as she extended her childlike hand, which featured a dainty diamond solitaire and a gold band. Around her wrist was a red string.

"I'm Malka!" Magnolia said, "I'm named for my father's greataunt." The only time she'd been called by that name was at her Bat Mitzvah on a windy November morning twenty-five years ago. Was she Malka bat Elliot? She couldn't recall her proper Hebrew name.

"So, we're like sisters," the receptionist said. "Are you here for your get?" "I'm the support team," Magnolia said. "My friend will be here any minute now."

"So, Malka. Sit. Some tea maybe? Soda? Rugelah?"

"No, thanks," Magnolia said. "I'll settle in with my book."

She pushed aside the faded orange pillows on the brown foam sofa and opened Anna Wintour's unauthorized biography, which she hadn't been able to put down since she had started it the previous evening. Magnolia felt for Anna-no fewer than two hundred writers, photographers, and former colleagues of the Vogue editor in chief had gleefully tattled about how she was as cruel, cunning, and controlling as she was pin thin. On the other hand, the same crowd admitted she was brilliantly talented and industrious and could charm any snake slithering along her red-carpeted path. Magnolia thought she might learn a thing or two. How, for example, did Anna beguile every man she wanted for whatever purpose she had in mind?

She was at the part when Anna has chewed her way through a number of magazines no longer included on her resume and lands an interview at Vogue. Its editor in chief at the time asks her what job she aspires to. "Actually, the job I'd like is yours," Anna answers before the woman ejects her from her office.

Do not-repeat, not-do that tomorrow, Magnolia warned herself.

As she began to wonder where Anna got her mutant strain of mon strous confidence-clearly, they didn't grow it in North Dakota next to the amber waves of grain-Abbey walked through the door, Tommy at her side. For a couple planning to dissolve their marriage in the eyes of the tribe, they looked decidedly amicable.

"Hey, Magnolia," Tommy said, hugging her. "Sorry to hear about the end of your career."

This might, Magnolia realized, be his version of sensitivity.

"Thanks, Tommy, but I'm hoping all that's ended is one bad job, not my whole brilliant career," she said, still simmering from his mid night visit months earlier.

"Mr.-" Malka was checking her paperwork. "O'Toole?" She pro nounced the name as if she were sounding out a word in Urdu.

"Rabbi Plotkin can take you in to see Rabbi Lipschitz now. Sign here, please." Tommy walked to the desk as a tall young man entered the reception room from another chamber.

"Rabbi Nachum Plotkin," he said, shaking Tommy's hand. "Or Nucki, your choice. Mrs. O'Toole, you stay-we'll call you soon. You brought a friend, yes?"

Abbey pointed to Magnolia.

"Malka," the receptionist said.

Rabbi Nucki approached Magnolia. "You are a good person to be here," he said. Magnolia put Anna in her bag, and extended her hand.

The rabbi stepped back slightly, kept his hands by his sides, but smiled. Magnolia pulled back her hand. "Thank you, Malka," he said.

"We'll talk later." He escorted Tommy into the next room and closed the heavy double doors behind them.

"Are you sure about this?" Magnolia whispered to Abbey. "You guys aren't even legally separated yet-and this step is terminal."

"I'm sure," Abbey whispered back. "It's over with Tommy, no mat ter what."

Magnolia noticed Malka looking at them and felt rude for whisper ing. "Malka, have you worked here long?" she asked.

"Since I graduated from Barnard last year," she said, "but I'm quit ting soon." She smiled happily and patted her stomach.

"Congratulations," Magnolia said.

"Mazel tov," Abbey added.

"I'm blessed," she said. "My husband, Avi-he's a cardiology resi dent at Mount Sinai."

"Malkele," an older man's voice called from the other room.

"Please send in Mrs. O'Toole."

Magnolia squeezed Abbey's hand as she got up to join Tommy and the rabbis.

"Malka, are you married?" the full-time Malka asked when they were alone.

"No. Well once, a long time ago," Magnolia said and decided to answer the inevitable question. "No kids."

"I know we've just met, but I'm wondering. Would you like to meet someone, Malka, a beautiful woman like you? Avi has an older brother, Chaim. He's thirty-nine. His wife-of blessed memory- died. Breast cancer. Tragic." Malka wiped away a tear. "Seven won derful children who need a mother. It's been a year. You walking in today . . . You know beshert?"

"I know beshert and thank you for thinking of me, I'm very flattered, but . . ."

"But what?"

"But no," Magnolia said. "Though I thank you."

"You're not interested. I understand," Malka said and returned to her computer. In a moment she looked up. "Actually, I don't under stand. If you don't mind me asking, if you're single, why wouldn't you want to meet such a good man?"

Magnolia put down her book. She began to feel like a tax return under audit. "I'm concentrating on work right now, that's all."

"What is it you do?"

"I work in magazines-although I don't have a job just now." She looked around, expecting to see at least a dog-eared Reader's Digest. Nothing. "Malka, do you read any magazines?"

"Yes, at the doctor's office," she said conspiratorially. "Especially fas.h.i.+on magazine-I like Good Housekeeping, Woman's World, Vogue."

Anna Wintour, meet your reader, Magnolia thought, as Rabbi Nucki walked out of the other room and sat across from her. It took a moment for Magnolia to calculate that minus the Old Testament beard and side curls, dressed in a suit that didn't hang on him as if he'd just lost thirty pounds, and with a spritz of bronzer to mitigate his indoor pallor, Rabbi Nucki could pa.s.s for a handsome Wall Streeter.

"It's sad when a marriage ends, yes, Malka?" he asked.

"Yes, Rabbi. But Abbey and Tommy-they'll meet other people.

I'm sure of it."

"G.o.d willing. And you, Malka?"

Magnolia looked into his earnest face. A better s.h.i.+rt and tie wouldn't hurt, either. "My first priority is to find a new job, Rabbi,"

she said. "The man can come later," she added, surprised to be reveal ing anything to this amba.s.sador from a galaxy far, far away. "If you believe, they both will happen, Malka," he said. "Put your faith in the Almighty. As a great Talmudic scholar once said, and I paraphrase, yesterday's history, tomorrow's a mystery, and that's why they call today 'the present'-every day is a gift. Forshtes, Malka?"

"Yes, I understand," she said.

"If you work hard, Malka, and believe, G.o.d above will reward you," he said. "You want your dreams to come true? Then don't sleep, and when fortune calls, offer her a chair."

Rabbi Nucki rose to leave. "Thank you for coming today," he said.

"It means a lot to your friend." He smiled kindly and returned to the inner sanctum, leaving Magnolia to decode his message. As soon as the door closed, however, Malka hurried over and sat down next to her.

"Malka," the young woman said, "put out your left wrist and close your eyes." When Magnolia opened them, she saw a delicate red thread tied next to her Cartier watch. "This will bring you blessings,"

Malka said, "and protect you against the evil eye of jealousy." A pity Scary didn't direct-deposit these bracelets with paychecks. "Thank you," Magnolia said.

"Don't thank me," Malka said. "This bracelet was meant for you.

It will remind the One Above you want His protection. When you see it, you will remember to perform acts of kindness-like you have today-and that humility is an attribute of G.o.d."

I'm not sure I do humility, Magnolia thought.

"Don't take off the bracelet," Malka warned. "When the job is done, the bracelet will be gone, Barusch Hashem." She gave Magnolia a quick hug and returned to her computer as Abbey and Tommy opened the door, accompanied by Rabbi Nucki. Tommy's eyes were as red as Magnolia's newest accessory. Before he hurried out of the office, he shook the rabbi's hand, kissed Abbey on the cheek, and waved to Magnolia.

Magnolia and Abbey gathered their coats. "Go in peace, ladies,"

Rabbi Nucki said as Malka offered her good wishes. In the elevator, neither Abbey nor Magnolia spoke.

"You want to grab some coffee?" Magnolia asked when they reached the street, "or just cab it uptown?" "Caffeine," Abbey said. "I don't feel too steady." They walked a few blocks in silence, until they found a Starbucks.

"What was it like in there?" Magnolia asked, as they faced each other over cappuccino.

"I sat apart from Tommy," Abbey said quietly, "about twenty-five feet back from the rabbis and a scribe who wrote on parchment with a quill. Tommy had to read from a binder with plastic sleeves. Hebrew words written in English. He signed something. I don't have a clue what it said."

"So he might have traded you for three briskets and a she-goat?"

Magnolia said. Abbey didn't laugh. "Did they ask why the marriage went bad?"

"They only wanted to know two things-if I kept kosher and Shabbat," Abbey said. "I a.s.sume they were disappointed on both counts."

"No chance to vent about what a rascal our Tommy was?" Magno lia asked. "Or for him to confess his sins?"

"No," she said. "At a certain point I had to pretend I was leaving with our marriage contract. They put a tiny cut in it and kept it. The people were gentle, but the whole thing was . . . formulaic." Abbey wiped away a tear. "A marriage, poof, gone. I don't know what I expected-more pomp and ceremony, certainly. I feel a lot more upset now than before."

Magnolia put her arm around Abbey's shoulder, and the two of them sat until Abbey stopped crying.

"I know you're going to be all right," Magnolia said softly. "A woman has to be open to possibilities, and you are."

Abbey looked unconvinced.

"When fortune calls, offer her a chair," Magnolia said.

"Today's horoscope?" Abbey sniffed, wiping her tears and finding a small smile.

"Something a wise man said," Magnolia said, pus.h.i.+ng her red string under her sweater.

"Are you going to tell me to go on JDate, too?" "Listen to Malka the wise," Magnolia said. "We've got to work hard at this happiness business."

"Thanks for coming," Abbey said. "I'm just rattled. Tommy broke down in the rabbi's office-it's only hitting him now that he blew it. I don't want to be with him anymore, but we loved each other once and I need to mourn. I'm going to go home, get in bed, and hope I'll sleep for twenty hours."

"If you want your dreams to come true," Magnolia said, "don't sleep."

Abbey looked at Magnolia as if she knew what she was talking about.

Chapter 3 4.

What Would Anna Do?

"He'll be with you in a few minutes," the executive-floor receptionist said.

Should the interviewer want to see it, Magnolia had printed her resume on paper with such a high fiber count a historian would be able to read it centuries from then. The best pages from Lady and a few from Bebe were tucked away in a black matte leather portfolio. Her new Jimmy Choos could pa.s.s muster here. The question was, could she?

If you visited the company's cafeteria, you'd know that three fourths of the employees looked as bedraggled as much of the in dustry. A few six-foot swans contemplated whether to indulge in a leaf of radicchio, but you could count more jeans in the room than four-thousand-dollar suits, and most of the women actually had hips.

Still, for a top job, Magnolia realized she'd be held to the highest standard.

If Magnolia knew what job she was being considered for-if, in fact, she was being considered for a real job, not simply being appraised like a piece of meat-she might be less nervous. But when the editorial director e-mailed her, he'd been cryptic, and you don't ask questions at Fancy-which is how Magnolia thought of this com pany. They weren't the biggest publisher, and despite their glossiness, you could subscribe to many of their magazines for five dollars a year on Mags4Cheap.com, but in the Triple Crown of hauteur, Fancy was a high horse indeed.