Washington DC was miserable, from November through to April. In recent years, Leo Rosen, wondered why he hadn't fly south like the birds. Seventy-four was too old to be running a business. Yet, still he could not relinquish control of the jewelry shop, which his father had built from scratch in the long hard years since his coffin ship docked Ellis Island. His daughter managed the books, but could not sell water to a desert dweller. His grandson, was not even twenty, and seemed not to care about anything beyond his cellphone.
It was another quiet Sunday, as he watched the grey drizzle through the window. The jewelry gleaned, reflecting in the winter light, from inside the clear cases. Golden necklaces, with birthstones embedded in the pendant B'rit Bat presents. Engagement rings, brought by men, who hadn't stepped inside a synagogue since their Bar Mitzvahs. Necklaces given at Bat Mitzvahs, names in Hebrew letters, those were usually made custom, but he kept a few on display, with common names. It seemed every few weeks in this city, there was a Bat Mitzvah for a girl named Sarah.
Christmas was edging closer, but Rosen's Jewlery experienced none of the increased trade. Once upon a time the shop was busy, even men who were not part of the tribe, came here for engagment rings and other Christmas gifts, knowing they were getting a good price. Rosen's Jewlery, used to the destination for jewels in the DC Metro area. Now, the people of this city, scanned the internet for rings, and Leo's cash drawer thinned out. Maybe, he should retire to Florida, like so many of his old friends. Maybe, he should sell the business, and save his daughter and grandson the burden?
Diamonds. Silver. Rose gold. It shined back at him. This was in his blood. Long, hot, pre air conditioning summers had been spent making this glass sparkle, while his parents fought about the business. His own daughter, his much longed for only child, had taken her first steps on the shop floor. So had his grandson.
He looked up from his beauties, to see a woman looking through the window. She had dark curls, slipping out from a thick beanie. Was she the woman his grandson had mentioned. She just stands there, staring, then she slips away. It's really weird. Joel had said as he stuffed food into his mouth.
Before Leo, could realise it, he had moved from behind the counter, his cane by his side, and moved to the door.
"It is cold out here," he said, as he extended the door open.
The movement startled her. He watched her breath hitch, and her hand move to her hip. Leo had been in D.C for long enough to recognise those who fought the monsters that the nightly news warned him about. He wondered what letters her badge spelt.
"I was just looking," she said after sucking in a deep breath, which came out as a whisp of white. "I should go."
"They look better from inside," Leo said, slipping into pushy salesman, like a second skin, after all these years.
She smiled, her lower teeth sinking into her upper lip. Her eyes glowing. There was an age of heartbreak in those eyes.
"You must be the one my grandson talks about," Leo declared, letting his mouth run before his brain. She seemed exactly, how Joel had described. Maybe she was the one. "Perhaps, I can help you find what you are looking for."
"I am not-" she paused, mouth open, she meant to say more, but the words got lost. "Perhaps another time."
"If it is an issue of money," Leo begun, remembering the glory days of this store, back when he was a boy. When his father, offered payment plans to young men, fresh from Europe, with its troubles brewing. So seldom, were all those installments paid. Leo's father never resorted to collecting, because hard times fall on everyone, he had said. Lev Rosen had spent his entire life waiting for the other shoe to drop. "We offer payment plans."
She nodded, but one look at her, told Leo money was unlikely to be an issue.
"It is just," she hesitated again. Eyes crinkled. There was something about her eyes, he would tell his daughter, at dinner that night, as he told the story. Like she had lived a thousand lives, and all of them tragic.
The woman stepped into store, and the bell rang as she closed the door. She shed her beanie, as the sudden change in temperature made her uncomfortable.
"My mother's father was a jeweler," she begun, Leo nodded. Being inside the store seemed to invite stories. Old men, with accents from now dismantled European countries, always had stories to tell. "In the old country of course. She was told he came from a long line. But when he came to Israel, there were enough jewelers, so he ended up driving a taxi. But he got famous, for being able to tell if a woman's engagement ring was real, so women used to get him to drive them around the block, and to determine if their fiance, had gotten them a cheap ring."
Leo let out a hearty laugh. Nodding. He too, once he revealed his profession, was often asked to check if diamonds were real.
"You are from Israel, no?" he asked, as her eyes darted to the star of David necklaces.
"Yes," she said, hesitation lacing her voice, "But I have chosen to settle here."
He nodded, not immune to the heaviness in her voice. Leo was not immune to the politics of it all. Many of his friends over the years, had made the Aliyahs. He knew that to leave Israel was to descend. Was that why the woman wore such a glum look?
"Here is nice," he said with a half smile. The land of opportunity, Leo's own parents would say as they mourned their homelands. "But has somebody warned you about our winters."
She laughed, laughter spilling out from her mouth. Echoing in the tiny shop.
"I have survived a few," she declared.
"My wife always wanted to go to Israel," Leo begun, surprising himself at how easily the stories flow. He so seldom talked of Esther, except with Rachel, but even Rachel seemed hesitant to bring up the ghost of her mother. Some ghosts needed to lie dormant. "She wanted to see Jerusalem, and to go swimming at Eilat."
"Did she ever go?" the young woman asked.
"No," Leo said, with a heavy sigh.
Their story was one as old as time. The shop could not be shut, their only child needed them, and the cancer grew silently in Esther's stomach. Esther lived long enough to meet her baby grandson, born just six months after a brief stint as a vilde chaye, Rachel graduated college, and without a father in sight. Esthers passport, remained unstamped.
A silence brewed, he watched as the young woman's eyes rested on the necklaces. Little stars hanging off of chains. Those were Bat Mitzvah gifts often. Sometimes, they were given to women who converted, often by their future mother-in-laws. He had seen, especially in recent years, the odd new convert by one for herself, identifying with the tribe. Leo frowned, this woman seemed to young to have a twelve year old, and was unlikely to be convert.
"So you are after a necklace?" Leo asked, as the woman looked up.
"Yes," she said, slowly lifting her gaze to his. "I lost mine."
Leo nodded. No wonder she had been so indecisive, she was looking for a replacement. No, a replica.
"Tell me about your old one?" he asked. She undid her thick scarf, and draped it over her arm.
Her hand moved up to her breastbone, as if she was searching for the necklace, where it had once hung.
"My mother gave it to me," the woman said, her voice softening, and her eyes become glassy. Leo knew this look, when the memories seemed to boil to the surface. "For my Bat Mitzvah."
"Perhaps, this a decision to defer to her," Leo suggested.
"No," the young woman continued. "She is dead. It has been years."
No wonder the woman's' eyes felt so old. There were nights where Leo, a man whose life was nearly over, found himself longing for his mother, who always smelt like warm milk and challah bread. Rachel too, lamented for a mother taken too soon. Oh how his daughter mourned, for the nights they had spat harsh words at each other, even as death drew ever closer.
"My sister had an identical one," the woman continued.
"Perhaps, I could make a copy," Leo continued, "We do custom design. Is your sister in the U.S? Or maybe if you have a photograph."
"She is dead too," the woman said, a frown etched deep into her face.
"If your father," Leo begun, wondering if he was digging himself into a bigger hole. "Perhaps, he remembers."
"No," she said, as her face flashed with anger. Pupils dilating. Her hands forming into fists. "Not him."
Leo gulped. Would the woman before him ever know peace?
"I do not want it to be identical to the one I lost," she said, the anger slipping away in waves. "Things are not the same. It would not make sense to have something that was the same."
Leo unlocked the cabinet by rote, and slipped his hands into the display lifting the star of David necklaces out, carefully. They were so delicate, with their thin chains.
"Perhaps, a rose gold," Leo said, as her looked at her, and her complexion. He wondered if she were perhaps descended from Mizrahi jews, who seemed to foreign to him and his pale Ashkenazi friends.
"The other one was a yellow gold," she said.
"Perhaps, rose gold then," Leo repeated.
She scanned his selection, as they were presented to her. She made no noises about quality or karrat. Though rest assured, if she was buying it from Leo Rosen, it would be top quality.
"I think," she paused again, Leo felt another objection brewing. Her face had soured. "I do not know."
"We offer a layby service," Leo offered, but suspected it was very little to do with the money.
"I have not exactly," she paused again, words stunted. Mouth slipping closed. "I have not exactly been the most observant. Not for a long time."
He smiled. Had anyone? Had she not noticed, that according to the stores opening hours, the sun was long set, before the store was closed on Friday night. Especially, in the dark winter months. Still he tried. He fasted for Yom Kippur. He gave generous gift baskets for Purim. He tried to do everyday mitzvahs.
"Are any of us?" he finally said. "But we try."
"That we do," she said softly. Her eyes scanning the necklaces again. Flitting back and forth. He will kvetch to Joel about the time it took for the decision to be made, and the manchild, will simply nod, not looking up from his phone.
"I like that one," she declared, as she pointed to a rose gold one, with a thick pendant.
He lifts it up to her, the chain dangling over his papery hands. He has done this a thousand times. Her curls have already been pulled into a loose ponytail. She holds it in her hands, and admires it. The shine reflects off her eyes. Leo can feel it, this necklace is the one.
"Yes," she whispered. "I think this is the one."
"Try it on," he prompted, but he felt like he already had a sale. "To be sure."
She did the necklace up herself, and let it sit on her neck. He watched, as something shifted in her. He'll try and explain it to Rachel at dinner, but he'd never quite describe it. It was like puzzle pieces being put together. No, like an aura of peace washing over the young woman. His daughter will roll her eyes, and say he was meant to be poet.
"Yes, this is the one," she said, as she held the pendant in her hand. As if it were already hers.
"You have good taste," Leo declared, as she started to slip the necklace back off, in order to process the sale. "No, keep it on."
He has seen this a thousand times. A piece of jewelry being a perfect fit. A smile dawned on his own face.
Her credit card gets swiped, he noticed that it was a new one. Everything in her wallet looked new. It was only toward the end of their conversation that he learned her name, Ziva David.
"How did you lose the old one, if I may ask?" he asked, as the credit card went through.
"It was not so much lost," she begun, "but taken."
A sadness stewed deep inside him. He can tell the woman before him, would not want to be pitied, but it bubbled in him anyway. There was just so much suffering in the world.
Her hand fiddled with the new necklace, it already looked natural on her neck.
"I shall remember this place," she declared, as she prepared to make her leave, pulling her thick beanie over her head. Her eyes drift toward, the men's watches which are popular anniversary gifts, then to the engagement and wedding rings, and finally on the necklaces and bracelets with birthstones embedded into them, gifts to be given to a new mother. A future builds in her dreams. He hopes that future will be granted to her. "Toda, Mr Rosen."
With that she slipped out of the tiny store.
A/N:
I don't own anything. I won't even claim Leo.
I'm really meh about this. Firstly, I wanted to write it from Ziva's POV, but I couldn't quite get in her head. This is the story that came out.
Also, I really like the idea of Ziva buying her own new necklace.
So thoughts?