Cafe Nevo by Barbara Rogan Read Free Book Online Page A

was in attendance. A striking but rather awkward sort of girl, not long out of army uniform, with none of her mother’s flair or style, Vered regarded these evenings as a kind of penance incurred by her weakness in returning to her mother’s house, and thus was not surprised to find herself ignored by the first interesting man she’d met in that house. Instead of noticing the daughter, Caspi wooed the mother with smoldering across-a-crowded-room glances.
    Caspi’s infamy with women had preceded, perhaps even contributed to, his literary fame. He was known to be arrogant, unprincipled in the means and targets of his seductions, and cruel to the women he used and discarded. This reputation naturally had the effect of inducing otherwise quite sensible women to try to capture Caspi’s heart.
    The day after her soiree, Jemima went out and bought both of Caspi’s books. She read them and wrote a note to Caspi, inviting him to dine next Friday. He came. They dined tête-à-tête but for Vered, whose presence was barely felt. Later they walked through the garden and looked down on the sea. Jasmine and brine mingled in the air. Jemima held Caspi’s arm and laughed deep in her throat, while Vered trailed behind, a silent shadow. Jemima gave Vered several looks, but she ignored them and was at last rewarded for her tenacity: behind her mother’s back, Caspi plucked a red rose from a bush and presented it to her.
    Vered was scarcely to be seen the next week, coming and going without a word of explanation. Jemima wondered about this. Saturday morning after breakfast, she brought one of Caspi’s books out to the garden and offered it to her daughter.
    â€œNo, thanks,” Vered said. “I have a copy. Caspi gave it to me.”
    â€œCaspi gave it to you! When did you see Caspi?”
    â€œYesterday, at Nevo.” Vered lay on a towel in her bikini; her olive skin tanned deeply. Jemima, in a sundress, sat beside her in a wicker chair. The house was set on a bluff overlooking the sea in Herzliya, a prime piece of property which Jemima had fought long and hard to keep. She said: “Vered, I do not want you hanging around Nevo. A young girl in that place is regarded as nothing but a piece of fresh meat by those hungry dogs.”
    â€œThey are nothing like that, Mother. They happen to be the most interesting people in the country today, the best artists, actors, and writers around.”
    â€œIf they were that good they’d be working,” Jemima snapped. “Nobody with any serious work to do hangs out in cafés.”
    â€œCreative people work in short, intensive bursts,” Vered informed her loftily. “They need to escape periodically. That’s why so many of them drink.”
    â€œI don’t like the sound of this.” Jemima turned her chair toward her daughter, lowering the rim of her straw hat to block the sun from her eyes. “Have you been seeing Caspi?”
    â€œJust a little,” Vered said demurely, but the look she shot her mother from under lowered lids was gleefully defiant.
    Jemima leaned back, clasped her hands, and smiled understanding. “I can understand the attraction, Vered. But I cannot consider Caspi a suitable companion for a young girl.”
    â€œWhy not? You invited him here to dinner.”
    â€œThat is different—and it is not for you, young lady, to question your mother. For your information, a person of my age and experience has resources that a girl your age lacks. Caspi is nothing but an amusing acquaintance to me; to you he could be dangerous.”
    If Jemima knew how she was fueling her daughter’s curiosity and resolve she would certainly have desisted, but as she considered her daughter incapable of any serious opposition she took no account of such a possibility. Vered exclaimed, “Caspi hasn’t made a pass at me, if that’s what you think. And you know what? I’m sorry he