Literally translated, it meant “peace in the house.” But Decker knew it meant, “I’m still pissed as hell, but I don’t want to spoil Shabbos.” Well, he could live with that for now. At least she was speaking to him. He said, “Let’s make kiddush.”

At the table, Decker made the blessing over wine, Rina responded with a lackluster amen at the appropriate intervals. After they washed and broke bread, Rina started to rise, but Decker put his hand on her forearm.

“Sit,” he said. “I’ll serve.”

She nodded.

Decker said, “Before I do, you want to get it off your chest?”

“Are you going to listen?”

“Yeah, I’ll listen.”

“Fine, then I’ll talk.”

“Fine, go ahead.”

“Okay.” Rina took a deep breath. “It wasn’t like you thought at all. I came home around three and realized he was here. First thing I did was call you. I called the station three times, Peter. Don’t you ever pick up your messages?”

“If it’s an emergency, they’d beep me.”

“But this wasn’t an emergency, Peter. It’s not like the guy was a murderer or something. You just said to keep away from him. So I did. I cooked, I cleaned, I polished. I could have been the lead write-up in the Journal of Balabustas.”

Decker smiled.

“I’m not complaining,” Rina continued. “I really like preparing for Shabbos. I’m old-fashioned that way. But I don’t like feeling imprisoned. I kept waiting for you to call me. Then I thought, This is utterly ridiculous. I’ve lived by myself for two years at the yeshiva, a year in New York. I’m not going to start getting regressive just because you’re around.”

“It’s not a matter of being regressive,” Decker said. “I told you to stay away from him.”

“What you told me is that you’re uncomfortable about him hanging around when you’re not home. Not exactly a staunch warning that he’s verboten. And I didn’t hang around him at all. I didn’t even see him for two hours. Then I went outside to take out the garbage and realized it was one hundred and two degrees at five o’clock. The guy had been working for God knows how many hours without water—unless he used the hose outside. So kill me! I took pity on the guy, your former friend, and brought him out a pitcher of orange juice. I even changed my clothes so he couldn’t misinterpret anything. Know what happened?”

“What?”

“I scared him. I said, ‘Abel?’ And he jumped about fifty feet. He wasn’t wearing his leg, he must have taken it off because it was so hot, and he tried to stand up and fell flat on his rear. Peter, the look on his face. He was so embarrassed. I just put down the pitcher and glass and ran into the house.