“Yes, I meet him every once in a while, but his thoughts are far away when he talks to me.” She paused, overcome by a rush of feeling. “Sometimes, in my dreams, I feel myself crying out to him, ‘Look at me! Can’t you see I’m here?’”
“Don’t be a little fool and let yourself fall in love with a poet. He’s all right for poetry, but to get married you need a man who can make a living. I sent for you not only because I was lonesome and wanted you near, but because I have a man who’ll be a great catch for you. He’s full of money and crazy to marry himself.”
“Aren’t there plenty of girls in California for him?”
“But he’s like Abe. He wants the plain, settled down kind.”
“Am I the plain, settled-down kind like my sister?” thought Rebecca.
And so the whole afternoon sped by in reminiscence of the past and golden plans for the future. Minnie told with pride that her children were sent to a swell camp, where they rubbed sleeves with the millionaires’ children of California. Abe had sold out the greater share of his cloaks and suits business to Moe Mirsky—this very man whom Minnie had picked out for Rebecca.
“And if we have the luck to land him, I’ll charge you nothing for the matchmaking. My commission will be to have you live near me.”
Before Rebecca could answer there was a footstep in the outer hall and a hearty voice called: “So your sister has come! No wonder you’re not standing by the door waiting to kiss your husband.”
Abe Shmukler, fatter and more prosperous than ten years ago, filled the doorway with his bulk. “Now there’ll be peace in the house,” he exploded genially. “I’ve had nothing from my wife but cryings from lonesomeness since I brought her here. You’ll have to keep my wife company till we get you a man.”
Instinctively Rebecca responded to the fulsomeness of Abe’s greeting. His sincerity, his simple joy in welcoming her, touched her. She wondered if her sister had been quite fair to this big, happy-hearted man.