Cafe Nevo by Barbara Rogan Read Free Book Online

divorce. No problem.”
    â€œBut that’s excellent.”
    Vered toyed with her cup. “He just wasn’t sure I could keep Daniel.”
    Jemima said angrily, ‘‘That’s absurd. You must be looking for excuses. Caspi would never contest custody.”
    â€œOh, no?”
    â€œOf course not. What would Caspi do with a three-year-old child?”
    â€œLook after him, he said, as best he could.”
    Jemima pushed her cup away and stood up. She prowled about the small kitchen like a well-dressed, impeccably groomed panther. Vered lit a cigarette. Her last words, spoken with Caspi’s intonation, reverberated in the silent kitchen.
    â€œHe’s bluffing,” Jemima said at last. “He doesn’t want the child, and even if he did, no judge would award him custody.”
    â€œIf Caspi contested custody he’d be more likely than I to win it All things being equal, the judges and the law favor the father for boys.”
    â€œBut all things aren’t equal. Caspi’s got no relationship with the boy. He’s a bully, a womanizer, a—”
    Vered’s cool voice cut in firmly. “I know what Caspi is. Do you know what the Fliegerman creature said?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHe sat down next to me and put his band on my knee. He was wearing some tacky men’s cologne and that ratty toupee. He said, ‘Be realistic, Vered. I’ve known a few women in my day; does that make me an unfit father?’“  
    â€œWhy, that arrogant little—”  
    â€œHe’s right. They all cheat on their wives; they’d never penalize another man for that.”
    Jemima shook her head and sighed. “Well,” she said after a moment, “I’d call him on it.”
    â€œYou would, would you?” It was not said admiringly.  
    â€œDarling, take my word for it, it’s a bluff. Caspi never wanted a child to begin with. He wouldn’t know what to do with Daniel if he got him.”
    â€œHe’d know.” Vered lit a cigarette and gave one to her mother. A look passed between the two women: a question, an answer, a judgment? Perhaps something different for each; it was not a look of perfect understanding. Vered said deliberately, “Caspi loves his power over me. With Daniel in his custody there’d be that much more to love.”
    Jemima slapped the counter top smartly. “That’s defeatist thinking. You’ve got to keep in mind that every problem has at least one possible solution. You’re your own worst enemy, Vered; I’ve been wanting to tell you that for a long time. You analyze instead of acting. Where would I be today if I’d spent my time understanding my problems instead of doing something about them? Beware, my girl. I’ve known better women than you to grow addicted to their misery. Ask yourself one question: if you’re so smart, what are you doing married to that bum?”
    Later that afternoon, Jemima sat at the white bamboo and glass desk in her study, unanswered letters strewn before her. She twirled a pen and stared idly out the window at the sea below. Vered, too, was at her desk, which was a sturdy, graceless oak creation, with many drawers and cubbyholes. Daniel was down for his nap, and she had two precious hours to work. There was a blank sheet of paper in the typewriter in front of her. She stared at it as if hypnotized, hands at her side. Both women, mother and daughter, were remembering the same events, though from very different perspectives.
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    When Caspi first appeared in their lives, there was some regrettable confusion as to where his primary interest lay. Vered was nineteen at the time, Jemima forty and a widow for seven years. Caspi, who had just turned thirty, was being hailed by the critics as the new star on the Israeli literary firmament. When he first came to one of Jemima’s salons, produced as a kind of hostess gift by his publisher, Vered