Jacob sat back in his chair, opening his arms in protest. “What am I doing? I’m sitting here and she’s throwing food at me. Talk about derech eretz of animals.”

“She’s two and a half, Yaakov. You’re fourteen—”

“I don’t like food thrown in my face, do you mind?”

“Yes, I mind when you say she’s disgusting. I mind that a lot. She’s a baby, for goodness’ sake.”

Jacob sighed. “She’s not disgusting. She’s very cute.” He leaned over and gave his sister a kiss on the forehead. “You’re very cute.”

“I’m a good girl,” Hannah said proudly.

Jacob smiled. “Yes, you are a good girl. But you still shouldn’t throw peas.” He pushed his chair back and stood. “I’ve got homework. Thank you, Eema. Thank you, Dad. Excuse me.”

He walked away. Hannah threw a pea at him. Rina said, “Hannah, enough.”

Decker stood. “How about we set you up with a video, sweetheart?”

“Silly Songs.”

“Fine.”

“I’ll do it.” Rina relieved Decker of the baby. As soon as Rina turned her back, Sammy gave Decker a questioning look. Decker put his finger to his lips. A few minutes later, Rina returned, sat down, and started eating.

Sammy asked, “Are you all right, Eema?”

Rina looked up. “I just wish you kids would act more respectful. What would your—” She shoveled mashed potatoes into her mouth, then abruptly got up and went into the kitchen.

Decker said, “She’s had a hard day.”

“Obviously.” Sammy looked at his dirty plate. “Why is she thinking about Abba? It’s not his yahrzeit.”

Decker blew out air. Why did he get all the fun jobs? “She went to a funeral of a friend of his.”

“A friend of Abba’s died?”

“No, no.” Decker shook his head. Talk about Freudian slips. “His father died. The friend’s name is Abram Sparks.”

Sammy thought a moment, shook his head. “Don’t remember him.”

“He’s a priest.”

“Oh…” Sammy sat up. “You must mean Bram. I remember Bram. He was a real nice guy.”

“Who was?” Rina said.

“Abba’s friend Bram.”

Rina glared at Decker. He said, “You want to be mad, be mad. I think he’s entitled to know what’s going on, okay.”

Rina barked, “Why don’t you just—…have some more pot roast.”

Decker stifled a smile. “Thank you, I think I will.”

Rina smiled and sat down. “Fine! So will I!”

“You two are so strange sometimes,” Sammy said. “I know, I know. Honoring your parents. Kibud av v’aim. I’ll work on it. So Bram’s father died. That’s too bad. Should I send him a card or something?”

Rina stared at her son as if he had uttered Greek. “That would be very nice, Shmueli. I think he’d like that very much.”

To Decker, Sammy said, “He went with us to Disneyland for my…sixth birthday?”