“That’s a country in its teens. And like lots of adolescents we know and love, it has no manners. Give it time.”

“What were we talking about?”

“Gershon Klein.”

“Did Honey happen to mention to you that she was trying to divorce the guy?”

“No—”

“Yeah, she conveniently forgot that.”

“I think one of the kids walked in.”

The car began to balk as it made its climb through the mountains, toward Jerusalem. The air was clean and filled with the tang of pines.

“Peter, does it make sense for Honey to murder Gershon by drowning him in a bathtub?”

“It was probably the most effective weapon she had in the house.”

“Then why would she bother to shoot him, drag him over to his office, then trash the place to make it look like a robbery?”

Decker was quiet. “I haven’t worked that part out yet.”

Another blast from a horn. This time it was a woman who passed him. Equal opportunity rudeness. Decker said, “Why do they have a stupid law like that on the books?”

Rina turned to him. “What are you talking about?”

“Why can’t a woman file for a Jewish divorce? The law is so damn archaic as well as sexist. It’s unfair enough to raise even your underdeveloped feminist hackles.”

The car turned silent.

Decker said, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yes, you did.”

“I didn’t mean to be hurtful. I’m sorry.”

“Peter, where is it written that you can’t be traditional and a feminist at the same time? One doesn’t preclude the other.”

“You’re right. I apologize—”

“I know who I am and I’m happy. There are still a few relics like me who are proud to be full-time mothers.”

“I’m proud of you, Rina. I’m proud of who you are and I wouldn’t want you to change for the world.”

He was really trying! Biting back a smile, Rina gave him a mock sneer. “You’re just kissing up to me because you’re lost in Israel without me.”

Decker was hurt. “I’m being sincere!”

“Sincere, my foot!” Rina held back a laugh. “Besides, it’s not the feminists who look askance at us stay-at-home moms. It’s everyone else. Especially the men—”

“What?”

“Men today have such unreasonable expectations—”

“Is this conversation going to deteriorate into a petty battle of the sexes?”

“It’s not enough for us poor women to keep house and take care of the kids.” Rina began to tick off her fingers. “We’ve also got to be beautiful, charming, sexy, physically fit, good cooks—amend that to gourmet chefs—”

“I don’t believe I’m hearing—”

“…who can make cappuccino. You haven’t the faintest idea how to steam milk, have you?”

“You got me there, Rina,” Decker said. “For your information, lady, I don’t drink cappuccino.”