The dining-room table had been extended until the top practically abutted the living-room couch. Enough seating for forty people. The entire downstairs was filled with cooking smells—the aroma of roasted meats, spicy puddings, and fresh-baked bread and pastries. Decker realized his mouth was watering.

High-pitched magpie sounds emanated from the kitchen. With all their chatter, the women hadn’t heard him come down. He stood at the kitchen doorframe waiting for someone to notice him. Rina’s ex-mother-in-law, Sora Lazarus, saw him first. She was a small, compact woman with large brown eyes and thick lips. Her hair was pinned under a big kerchief and she had spots of flour on her face. She wore a white chef’s apron and smiled at him, bursting into ooing sounds he interpreted as a welcome.

“Did you sleep well?” Sora Lazarus asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

Rina emerged from the back, wiping her hands with her apron. She smiled at him and he immediately melted. She was exquisite even in a loose housedress. Sapphire eyes, inky-black hair, creamy complexion, full, red lips. Not to mention those curves. And now, she was officially Mrs. Decker. Two long, long years. But she was worth the wait.

She led him into the belly of the kitchen. The place was hot and misty. Most of Rina’s hair was covered by a kerchief, but a few steam-limp strands had escaped and framed her lovely face. She slipped her arm into his and hugged his bicep.

“Akiva, I’d like you to meet my sisters-in-law, Esther and Shaynie.”

Decker found it amusing that she had called him by his Hebrew name. Only in Boro Park. Back home, he was plain old Peter. He nodded hello to the women, but knew better than to try to shake their hands. Men and women in this culture didn’t touch unless married, and even then public displays of affection were frowned upon. But Rina seemed to disregard this little bit of tradition and Decker was glad she did. He smiled at the sisters—women he’d spoken to many times on the phone. He said, “Nice to finally see the faces that go with the voices.”

They both smiled back and immediately averted their gazes.

He put Shaynie at about his age—forty-one or -two. She was petite, with a long face, amber eyes, and warm smile. She wore no makeup, but her cheeks were rosy from the heat. She was married to Mendel, an accountant.

Esther was also small, but heavier than her sister. Her face was fuller, her arms thicker. She had the same amber eyes as her sister and also wore no makeup. But her face wasn’t rosy, it was blood red. Her eyes rested on her feet.