Rina’s oldest son, Sam, his wife, Rachel, and their baby daughter lived in a rented tiny one bedroom in Brooklyn. They could have rented a bigger place but the kids wanted to save up to buy something after they were done with their training. Jacob, Rina’s second son, had moved from Baltimore to Williamsburg where the kid, now in his thirties, was as comfortable with the Chasidim as he was with the hipsters. He and a college friend rented a modest two-bedroom flat that was party central. Hannah, Peter and Rina’s daughter, lived a few blocks away from Sam, sharing a place with three roommates. Decker’s oldest daughter, Cindy and her husband, Koby, lived in Philadelphia. There was absolutely no room to stay unless they wanted to share the nursery with the twins and sleep on an air mattress on the floor.

The days of roughing it were long gone. Decker was willing to stay at a hotel in Queens or some other borough that was cheaper than Manhattan. But this week they got lucky. Their foster son, Gabriel Whitman, owned a roomy two-bedroom condo bought by his father’s money, which was about the only thing that his dad had to offer besides good genetics. The place included a big living room with a piano, two bathrooms, and a refrigerator that was actually in the kitchen. It sat two blocks away from Juilliard right near Columbus Circle. At the moment, he was touring so he was more than thrilled to lend his digs to the Deckers. Not only was it quiet and spacious, Gabe was compulsive so it was cleaner than most five-star hotels.

Once the car’s trunk and backseat were packed with luggage and bags, Decker and Rina took off at four A.M. Monday in bitter darkness, hoping to beat Manhattan traffic. Rina had a cooler filled with fruit, cheeses, and Danishes and two thermoses filled with coffee. After the heat kicked in, Rina was comfortable enough to remove her gloves and hat and bulky jacket.

She saw sweat coming off Peter’s brow. “Do you want me to help you off with your jacket?’

“No, I’ve always wanted a portable sauna.”

“A simple ‘Thank you, darling. That would be lovely’ is sufficient.” She helped him pull his arms out and removed his parka and threw it on the backseat. “Coffee?”

“Will it burn my lip if I drink it while I drive?”

“I’ll test the waters.” She poured the coffee into a Styrofoam cup. “Something between lukewarm and hot.”

“Bring it on.”

She gave him the coffee and put on one of Gabe’s CDs. “If you get tired, I’ll be happy to drive. You’ve got work to do. I don’t.”

“I’m fine. I like to drive.”