“What did you do when Cindy was growing up?”

“When I wasn’t wearing my gun, I kept it locked up. I never, never left a loaded gun lying in an unlocked drawer or on my nightstand. I have a great deal of respect for what it can do.”

“Do you lock your gun up now?” she asked.

“No, because I live alone,” he said. “But when Cindy visits me for the weekend, it’s locked. When you and the kids come visit, it’s locked.”

She handed him his coffee and noticed the slight bulge under his jacket. He’d worn his gun while he learned Torah. For some reason, that disturbed her, but she didn’t say anything. It would have seemed ludicrous to mention it in view of her recent purchase. She sat down beside him, held her gun in her hand, stared at it, then put it down.

“If you’ve got ambivalence about it,” Decker said softly, “don’t even start. There’s nothing wrong with chucking the whole idea, Rina.”

“No,” she insisted. “I want to know how to use it. Hopefully, I’ll never have to.”

He picked up the Colt and sighted down the barrel.

“Let me take this home,” he said. “I’ll clean it and oil it. Maybe even break it in for you.”

“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you show me how to clean, oil, and break in the gun?”

He frowned.

“We do such romantic things together, Rina. We talk religious philosophy and clean guns. What ever happened to midnight walks on the beach while gazing at the moonlight?”

“The beach isn’t safe at night and the water is polluted.”

“You’re incurably sentimental.”

Her lips turned upward and broke into a mysterious smile.

“You’re going to be sorry for that sarcastic tone of voice.” She opened a drawer and brought out a flat, rectangular package. “Something to wear for Shabbos tomorrow.”

She’d bought him a tie, he thought.

“I take it all back,” he said.

She stood over him as he opened the box. Inside was a flatter, black satin box. He looked at her, puzzled. “What did you do?”

“Open it,” she instructed.

He lifted the lid and took out the contents.

“A watch?”

“Do you like it?”

“Rina—this is solid gold.”

“Do you like it?”

He stood up and hugged her.

“Honey, it’s gorgeous. But I can’t accept—”

“Sure you can. You’d better. It’s engraved on the back, and that makes it nonreturnable.”

He flipped it over and smiled at the inscription.

“It’s because I love you, Peter,” she said softly. “I can’t show it physically, but the feeling is still there.”

“I love you, too, Rina.” He gave her a suitably chaste kiss on the lips. Now he knew he’d never get to sleep tonight. “I don’t know what to say.”