Read Cafe Nevo for Free Online Page B

it doesn’t matter.”
    â€œWhat set him off?”
    â€œI went to Nevo.”
    â€œThat’s all?”
    â€œYesterday afternoon.”
    â€œFriday afternoon. I see. And he was there.”
    â€œOh yes.
    â€œYou sat with him?”
    Vered placed the percolator on the stove and rather slowly returned to the counter. She spoke with great detachment. “No, that seat was occupied.”
    â€œDo you really think you’ll win this game?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen why play it?”
    Vered sat beside her mother. Her face was as expressionless as living flesh could be. “I’ve lost the battle anyway,” she said in a tone of perfect finality.
    â€œVered, I must tell you that I have never cared for your way of looking at me as if I were a census taker. I am your mother.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œYou don’t act like it. Other daughters confide in their mothers. I wouldn’t mind your reticence if I knew you talked to someone, a friend, a counselor, but I know you don’t. I admire your fortitude but you go too far. The time has come to talk.”
    â€œYou’d like me to confide in you.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œOpen my heart, pour out my troubles, seek solace and advice at your motherly bosom?”
    Jemima’s “Yes!” was nervous, defiant.
    â€œWhat for? So you can tell your friends all about it? ‘Poor Vered, married to that monster. I warned her, but would she listen? Did you hear about his latest little floozy?’“
    Eyes narrowed, Jemima put her hand on her heart and cried, “I wouldn’t!”
    â€œYou did. All those years after Daddy died, when you called me your ugly duckling and laughed at me with your fancy society friends.”
    â€œOh, Vered, if I was ever so cruel I swear I’m paying for it now. No, don’t look at me that way. You were a difficult child, Vered, and hard for me to understand. You still are. Darling, I am sorry.”
    Vered’s smile was bright but frigid. “It’s all right, Mother. Would you like more coffee?”
    â€œNo.” Jemima fumbled in her bag for a handkerchief.
    â€œThen I really have to get to work now. I’ve got a deadline tomorrow, and after this morning I’ll have Daniel on my hands all day.”
    Jemima dabbed delicately at her eyes, to avoid smearing her make-up. She said, “I won’t go until I’ve had my say. When are you going to divorce this Caspi person?”
    â€œI’m not going to.”
    â€œWhy not?” Jemima said angrily, mockingly. “Do you still love him?”
    â€œWhy do you ask? Do you still want him?”
    Jemima gasped. “Do you really believe that?”
    â€œNo, I suppose not,” Vered said without inflection. Jemima, who needed glasses but was too vain to wear them, took a jeweled pair from her purse and set them on her nose. To no avail: the glasses had not been invented that would penetrate Vered’s mask.
    â€œYou know,” she mused, “you’ve turned into a rather terrifying woman. I wouldn’t wonder if Caspi were scared to death of you.”
    Vered barked a laugh.
    â€œI don’t care if you bite my head off, Vered. I want to know: are you still in love with him?”
    â€œI hate him,” she said.
    Jemima was too pleased with the tone of this answer to reflect that the one emotion did not preclude the other. “Then for God’s sake divorce him!” she cried.
    â€œI can’t.”
    â€œWhy not? You surely don’t lack grounds.” As Jemima leaned toward her, Vered caught a whiff of her fragrance, a green, meadowy scent. “I’m seeing Giora Fliegerman this afternoon.”
    â€œForget it. I already talked to him.”
    â€œYou did? He didn’t tell me that.”
    â€œThat is surprising.”
    â€œDon’t be rude. What did he say?”
    â€œHe said what all the others said: that I could get a