“Because the Jews were so bad that if Hashem didn’t take them out real fast, they would have been stuck in the lowest level of Tumah-sin. That’s why Hashem took them out after two hundred ten years and not four hundred years.”

Everyone burst into laughter. Rina blushed. “I think the rav was referring to taking the Jews out quickly before Paroah changed his mind about letting the Jews go.”

“Oh,” Hannah said. “Yeah, that too.”

“You’ve got a real thinker,” Miller told Rina.

“She’s… unique.”

Decker succumbed and devoured another piece of bread. Rivka stared at the kids. To Rina, she whispered, “If the body language was any closer, they’d be nose-to-nose.”

Rina said, “Wonder when they’ll work up the courage for eye contact.”

Rivka sighed. “I suppose it’s better than the Shiddach Directory. I’m surprised. Rachel is usually very reserved.” She looked at Rina. “How old’s your boy?”

“Almost twenty.” Rina looked at the girl. “She’s eighteen, nineteen?”

“Just turned nineteen. What yeshiva did he go to in Israel?”

“Gush.”

The mother nodded.

“And your daughter?”

“Midreshet Lindenbaum.”

“Oh. Bravender’s,” Rina answered. “Very progressive.”

“She’s got a mind of her own.”

“That’s good.”

Rivka asked, “How old were you when you got married?”

“Seventeen. And you?”

“Eighteen.”

Silence.

Rivka turned to her husband. “Shragy, enough with the questions. You’re driving the poor little girl crazy.”

“She’s very bright. She doesn’t mind.”

“How do you know?” She waved him off.

Finally, finally, the food came. By the time everyone had finished, they had twenty minutes to catch the first set. Rina regarded Sammy. There was still a blush in his cheeks. His food was barely touched. She elbowed Decker and whispered, “You look a little tired, Peter. How about we give the tickets away, and you and I take a nice romantic walk instead?”

Decker’s face registered surprise. “Are you sure?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all.” He was thrilled with the idea. He had just demolished half a cow. A walk sounded good for the soul, good for the waistline. And there was this part of him, this obsessive little voice that kept telling him to take one more crack at finding Shayndie. Rina was giving him an out, and he took it.

“It’s absolutely fine with me, darling.” Decker took his wife’s hand. “We can make our own music.”

Rina offered the tickets to the parents. The rabbi said, “I’m not much for jazz-too many notes. How about if you give the tickets to the boys?”

Jacob said, “I’ve got a train to catch.”

“I’ll go,” Reuven said.

Jacob kicked him under the table.

“On second thought, I’ve got to go pack.”

Sammy said, “I’ll take them if no one else wants them.” To Rachel, “Do you want to go?”

“Yeah, I’ll go.” Rachel blushed. “Why let the tickets go to waste?”

“You two better bentsh and get going,” Rina told them. “It’s late.”

“We have mezumin,” Rav Miller stated.

The three men necessary to say extra prayers before the Grace after Meals. Decker said, “Then let’s all bentsh and get going. Rav Miller, would you like to do the honors?”

“You do the honors.” Miller punted back to Decker.

“No, I insist.”

“But you provided the tickets for the children.”

Rachel was exasperated. “Somebody please start or we’re going to be late.”

Rav Miller led the group in the Grace after Meals. Afterward Decker turned to Jacob. “Do you mind taking Hannah and the packages back to Brooklyn?”

Jacob held up his carry-on.

“Oh, that’s right. You’re leaving.” So much for his hunting down Shayndie. “Okay. So we’ll see Jacob off and go back to Brooklyn.”

Rina stepped in. “You look like you have a few pickup items to do here in Manhattan before you go back. I’ll take Hannah and the packages back.”

“What about our walk?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Then she whispered, “We have our exercise later on tonight.” She turned to her daughter. “Come, Chanaleh, let’s say good-bye to your brother.”

Everyone took turns saying good-bye to Jacob. By the time her younger son left, there were tears in Rina’s eyes. Then she said, “Now the hard part. Finding a cab that’s willing to take us across the bridge.”

Rivka spoke up. “Nonsense. We’ve got a car. We’ll take you. Where are you going?”

“Boro Park. Where do you live?”

“Englewood.”

“It’s way out of your way.”

“It’s fine. Shragy’s parents live there. We should stop by so Reuven can say hello. Shragy, help her with the bags.” Rivka said to Rina, “We’ll go bring the car around.”

“Thank you,” Rina answered.

After the Millers left with Reuven, Decker held his daughter’s hand and smiled at his wife. “I’m not really doing anything in the city. Just bumming around.”

“You want to try one more time,” Rina said.

“You know me too well.”

He seemed so demoralized. Rina squeezed his hand. “You’re not responsible for saving the world, Peter.”

“Yes, I know. It only seems that way.”

Heading downtown from Forty-eighth Street, Decker started walking, hands in his pockets, coat wrapped tight around his chest. Twenty blocks later, he was in front of the address of Ephraim Lieber’s chapter of Emek Refa’im. It corresponded to a basement somewhere in the Garment District. During daylight hours, the area was teeming with people, many of them pushing steel racks of clothing from one location to another. Blocks of stores and marts, showcasing one line after another, the rag reps promising their buyers exclusives on the newest items in the fickle world of fashion. At this time of night, the streets were dark and quiet, its huge monolithic structures casting shadows over the pavement, filmy moonlight breaking through the steel clouds. Artificial lights illuminated an occasional window: Someone was working overtime, getting the jump.

With nothing to keep him in the area, he retraced his steps uptown. Maybe he could reach Sammy and accompany him back to Washington Heights in a cab. Then, because he wasn’t too far away, he could swing by Donatti’s on the way back. He got to the hotel a little after nine, but the jazz set still had forty minutes to go. Since there was a café nearby, Decker stopped in and ordered a pot of herbal tea. He might as well keep warm.

Five minutes into his Lemon Zinger, he realized how ludicrous his idea had been. Sammy was on a date, for goodness’ sake! Decker’s was probably the last face he’d want to see. He took a final sip, then put down a fiver and left. At Forty-fifth and Eighth, he hailed a cab.

“Share a ride?”

Decker whipped around.

The man was truly a phantom.

This time, Donatti was with a young girl. She appeared around fifteen, but knowing how careful Chris was, she was probably eighteen. Donatti opened the door, and Decker got in. The girl slid in next. Last came Chris.

Her pixie face was painted with very little makeup and framed with dark hair. Innocent face, but the dress was anything but. She had on a red tank top, a leather miniskirt, and fishnets. Around her shoulders was a feathered boa. No bra, her nipples were big and erect. She must have been freezing in the getup.

Donatti gave the driver an address. No one spoke.

As the blocks sped by, Decker felt something against his leg. He moved closer to the door, but the child was persistent, nuzzling her limb against his. It was only after her hand had brushed against his thigh and had come to rest on his knee that he had had enough.

Fury welled inside of him. He shot Donatti a hateful look so filled with venom that even Chris’s stone demeanor cracked around the eyes. He pulled his charge’s hand off Decker’s thigh.