Rina was struggling to find something to say, but all words had eluded her. All she could think of was that Peter didn’t look a thing like Frieda Levine. And she knew that was the wrong thing to say, so she remained silent.

Decker couldn’t sit any longer. He stood up and ran down the stairway, fully intending to run out the door. But he surprised himself and instead just paced the living-room carpet, further trampling the green-shag piling. The room was hot and bright, the crystal pieces giving off shards of color that splashed rainbows on the wall. As if that wasn’t enough, an illuminated three-tiered chandelier made a glitter dome out of the dining room. He felt as if he’d stepped inside a heat-resistant ice palace. He longed to sweep his arm across the tables, smash what was whole and watch it crumble to dust. His sense of self, shattered. All of it a facade. He spied Rina sitting on a couch, she looking as sick as he felt, and he turned to her.

“What the hell am I going to do?”

“I…” Rina sighed. “I don’t know.”

Decker said, “Rina, I look just like my father—the image of the man down to the coloring. The woman is going to take one look at me, start doing a little mental arithmetic, and faint.” He kept pacing. “Dear God, why did I ever come here? I knew she lived in New York. I knew she was an Orthodox Jew but I never ever considered the possibility of meeting up with her. Never! God, there are tens of thousands of Orthodox Jews in this city.”

“There are,” Rina said. “But we tend to live in concentrated areas. Peter, why didn’t you tell me your mother was from Boro Park?”

“My mother is from Gainesville, Florida—”

“You know what I mean.”

Decker forced himself to slow down. “Rina, I didn’t know that this Frieda person lived in Boro Park. The adoption papers said she was fifteen, Jewish, born in New York and that was it. As I investigated a little further, I discovered she was still living in New York and was married with five kids. I didn’t even know where she lived except that it was somewhere within the five boroughs because I tracked her using city records.

“Once I found out she was married with five kids, I stopped pursuing her. Instead, I put my name on this list of adoptees willing to meet their biological parents. I figured if she wanted to contact me, I’d be willing. I wasn’t about to intrude on her life. Well, she never called me—and that was her decision, so fine. Fine. Just fine. I’ll abide by that. It’s obvious the woman wasn’t interested and it’s friggin fine with me to keep it that way.”

Such hurt in his voice. Rina said, “I’m sorry, Peter.”