“Can you hold him for a minute?” she asks.
“Come here, big guy,” Pincho says, lifting the chubby toddler over his shoulder.
They have been promised the ceremony will be short, and she fed Nathaniel as soon as they were inside the President’s Residence, but the president is tied up with a visiting dignitary and everything has been delayed. Nathaniel is growing restless.
Vivi may be the only person in the room more interested in the president than the visiting dignitary, for whom a phalanx of photographers stands waiting outside. The spry old president is a contemporary of Teo’s, and she wishes to look into his face from up close, if for no other reason than to see if something there, anything, even the smallest flicker in his eyes, can bring back the tiniest piece of the man she misses so keenly.
She turns to her mother. Before embracing her from behind, she takes in Leah’s careful coif only slightly flattened during the long drive from Haifa to Jerusalem, and the stiff new suit bought for this occasion. Leah is scrutinizing Berlin: Martin, Freddy, the installation her daughter created and the reason they are here today.
Vivi hooks her chin over her mother’s shoulder, snakes her arms around Leah’s middle. At least there is nothing new about her scent, the same perfume she has been wearing for Vivi’s whole life.
“I think I understand the meaning of the KaDeWe department store sign,” Leah says with uncharacteristic equanimity, “but why the video with those old Dutch paintings by … what was his name?”
“Vermeer,” says Vivi softly into her mother’s ear.
“That’s it, Vermeer. So what do they mean?”
Before Vivi can decide whether to answer her mother’s question, a double door at the end of the large reception room opens and the president emerges arm in arm with an impressive middle-aged blonde whom Vivi, and everyone else, recognizes at once. On their way past tables laden with pastries and cold drinks, figs and watermelon, the visiting dignitary stops to coo at Nathaniel as he gurgles blissfully in Pincho’s arms.
“What a beautiful, happy baby you have,” she says in an American accent as flat as the plains from which she hails.
“Thank you,” Vivi answers.
“What’s his name?” the woman asks.
“Nathaniel. It’s Hebrew for ‘a gift from God.’ ”
“Well, he certainly is that, isn’t he? Oh and look, one blue eye and one green. You’re gorgeous, aren’t you, little man!”
The president says, “His mother is about to receive a prize. She’s a very talented artist, you know.”
“You’re a lucky woman,” says the dignitary, her eyes sliding from Nathaniel to Pincho.
“Oh, don’t I know it,” says Vivi, a broad smile settling onto her face.