Lauren Takes Leave by Gerstenblatt, Julie (ebooks children's books free txt) 📕

solarge, round tables circle the dance floor, each draped in a gold tablecloth. Alone, sad-looking mirror ball dangles from the ceiling.

I find Doug wilting patiently in line behind mostly oldpeople at one of the beverage stations set up in the dank corners of the room.

Kat slinks off to say hi to the side of the family thatbinds her to Leslie.

“Would you care for some Mt. Eden chardonnay?” Doug says,handing me a plastic cup with a urine-sample-sized amount of yellow liquid inthe bottom. “Apparently, it’s being rationed.”

Doug and I are good. We had a heart-to-heart followed bymakeup sex.

Then why do I suddenly feel so ill at ease around him?

“Lauren.” Doug clears his throat, as if he has somethingimportant to say. My stomach clenches involuntarily.

“Mm?” I say, downing the entire shot of wine in one gulp.It’s sickly sweet and will probably give me an instant headache, but I hold mycup out for a refill anyway. Doug takes the bottle of wine from the bartenderand fills my glass to the top.

“Promise me something.” He places the bottle back on thebar and meets my gaze.

“Mm,” I say, taking a kosher egg roll from a passingwaiter and popping it into my mouth. It’s hard to swallow with my heart lodgedin my throat.

“No matter how tempted you might be…”

“Mm?” I ask, taking giant gulps of wine while scanning theroom for signs of Lenny.

“…do not bid on or purchase anything at tonight’sauction.”

“Oh!” I exhale. “I can so promise that!”

Doug does not look convinced. “You say that every time weattend one of these functions, and then you drink some wine and peruse thesilent auction table, and the next thing I know, we’ve won a three-hour tentedparty with a DJ.”

“In my defense, that was a good idea. But I did not seethe fine print that read ‘Good only on a Tuesday between the months of Decemberand March.’”

“And…?”

“And there was no way of knowing that Making Moves LLC wasbankrupt and would fold the following week.”

Doug gives me a lopsided smile. “You know what I mean.”

“Fine,” I say. “No bidding and no buying. I swear.”

We move toward our assigned table, where we are seated asguests of distinction with Jodi’s family. I give my condolences to Jodi’s threedaughters, who are all dressed in shades of pale pink perfection, one prettierthan the next. Lee is setting up a tripod that’s cradling a video cameradirected at the center of the ballroom. He makes one final adjustment, thentakes Doug’s arm in a masculine, handshake-like greeting.

“Dudes! How the heck are you?” Lee’s laid-back manner isreflected in his casual dress of jeans and an untucked button-down. His blueeyes sparkle as he surveys the room.

“So sorry about Sonia,” I say.

Lee nods solemnly. “She was quite the lady. Jodi’s familywill miss her. On one side, she had a Holocaust survivor, and on the otherside, a Ziegfeld Girl!”

My mind flashes back to the Hebrew Home for the Aged inMiami and the images of Sonia in elaborate dance costumes crowding her room. Ihave a pretty good idea which history was hers.

“Oh, also, Mazel Tov!” I add, kissing Lee’s cheek andsitting next to him.

Lee reaches for a huge camera outfitted with a telephotolens and begins to fidget with it.

“Hi-yyy!” Jodi, making the rounds, has arrived at her owntable.

“Hey! My beautiful wife. I made a plate of apps for you.”Lee motions to a mound of kosher egg rolls to his left.

“Ugh! Are you crazy? I’ve been too nervous to eatall day, Lee, you know that.”

“I do.” He winks at us, head nodding in agreement. He thenraises a glass of water to toast her. “As I was saying: to my beautiful, skinnywife!”

Jodi rolls her eyes, her anxiety palpable. “I can’ttake another minute of this. I’m going to get changed.”

“Changed?” Doug whispers my way.

“Yeah. The dress she has on now is just for the ‘meet andgreet’ portion. She bought something off the Internet for the main event.”

“I think I’m starting to like this evening a bit morenow,” Doug says.

Leslie enters the room and scans the crowd, no doubtlooking for her family, with Lenny walking in right behind her. I hide behindDoug’s shoulder.

A man with an elaborately decorated tallith grabs amicrophone and stands on the podium set up at the front of the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome. I am Rabbi Cantor—and, no,I don’t sing!” There is a smattering of tired laughter from around the room; heprobably feels compelled to tell the joke every time he introduces himself, poorguy. “If you will take your seats, we plan to begin the evening’s festivitiesin about five minutes.”

“Awwwright,” Lee says, rubbing his hands together. “Timeto do one last check on my AV setup.”

Kat stops by on the way to her assigned table, waving helloto Jodi’s daughters and then to Doug. “Shalom,” she says. “You guys have roomfor me at your table?” she asks. “I’m flying solo. I decided not to invite theestranged Peter tonight, for reasons linked to his obvious douchebaggery.”

Doug smiles back at her. “Hi, O’Connell. How was yourtrip?”

Kat looks at Doug and, without missing a beat, says, “Mr.Worthing, I don’t know what the eff you’re talking about. Excuse me for amoment, will you?” Then she pushes past a nearby couple and disappears fromview.

Now, that’s one way to avoid the truth. I guess she’ll besitting at her assigned table instead of squeezing in with us.

Doug and I settle into our seats as the lights dim.Someone pulls down a video screen, and the rabbi speaks into the microphoneagain. He takes a small slip of paper from his pocket, unfolds it, and puts onhis bifocals. “If an MC Lenny could please come up to the front?”

Lenny is dressed in dark-washed jeans, crisp white shirtand a midnight-blue velvet blazer that instantly sets him apart from the restof this crowd. He adjusts a neon-yellow yarmulke on his head that reads Livin’on a Prayer in Hebraic-type font. He sort of leaps onto the podium andgrabs the mic from the rabbi, easily moving into a greeting of “Yo, yo, yo,Temple Beth El! The Jews are in the house!”

This gets a tepid response, with only slightly