“How about dinner?” Hennon suggested. “Just between friends? Or is that against your dietary laws?”

He should have kiboshed the invitation immediately, but something held him back. Goddam it, he wanted to go out on a normal date and eat normal food with a nice-looking woman. What was wrong with that? Just between friends.

“There are exceptions,” he said calmly. “Maybe we can work something out.”

He felt guilty as soon as he hung up the phone.

“Have a seat,” Rina said. “We’re just starting dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” said Decker. “I just came over to say thanks.”

“Please.” She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table.

Decker sat down. She handed him a yarmulke and he put it on without a word.

She placed a steaming bowl of creamy fish chowder in front of him. The soup was thick with chunks of white halibut, bits of diced potatoes, and lots of onions. In the middle of the table were slices of thick-crusted garlic bread, buttery and full of cheese. Rina poured him a bottle of chilled Dos Equis.

“I’m really not hungry,” he repeated.

“Don’t eat,” she said, quietly.

He stared at the soup, smelling its rich aroma. He was hungry. He was starved. But he refused to eat. He was acting like an asshole and didn’t know why. He was the one who’d shown up drunk as a skunk, acting like a lunatic. Why was he mad at Rina? And why the hell hadn’t he told Annie no?

Times like this reminded him that his divorce was a two-way street. He could hear Jan’s voice. You’re self-destructive, Peter. Her favorite word—self-destructive. She’d used it the day he’d quit the law practice; she’d used it the day she’d kicked him out of the house.

The boys slurped the last of their chowder and gave him sidelong glances. Quiet. He was making everyone uncomfortable. He stood up.

“I’ve really got to go, Rina.”

“Boys, I want to talk to Peter alone for a minute,” Rina said. “Please go to your room.”

“We didn’t bentch yet, Eema,” Sammy said.

“The avayrah’s on me,” Rina answered.

The boys left quickly.

Decker said nothing. Any remark would come out trite or stupid.

“Peter, what upset you so last night?”

He rubbed his chin and realized what a lousy job her electric shaver had done on him this morning. For some odd reason, it embarrassed him to be scruffy in front of her.

“Sometimes my work gets to me,” he answered.

“Are you still working on the bones?” she asked.

“Yes. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“At least you will sit down while I’m talking to you?” He sat back down.

“I’m acting like a jerk, Rina. I do that when I’m under pressure. I’m sorry.”