Sammy scooped up a double portion of lasagne and looked up at his grandmother. Her sentence came out “Tink you vould like to say hello to your omah?”

“Hi, Omah.” He stuffed a forkful of lasagne in his mouth. “Hi, Opah.”

“Hello, Shmuel,” Stefan said. “How are you today?”

Sammy smiled through a mouthful of noodles. “Okay.”

Stefan spooned a portion onto his younger grandson’s plate. “And how’re you doing, Yonkie?”

The younger boy smiled, pushing black hair off his forehead. “I’m doing okay. Thanks for the lasagne, Opah. Take some for yourself.”

“I will,” Stefan announced. “I love lasagne.”

“He eats my lasagne like candy,” Magda said.

Rina brought in a salad. “You make delicious lasagne, Mama.”

Magda blushed. “I’m sure yours is twice as good.”

“I’m sure it isn’t,” Rina said, smiling.

“Where’s Dad?” Sammy poured salad dressing over a mound of lettuce. “He’s never home anymore.”

“Yes, he is, Sammy,” Rina said. “He’s on a new case. Whenever he starts a new case, he has to put in extra hours.”

“He works too hard,” Magda stated.

“He’s on Homicide, Mama. It demands long hours.”

“How can he work with so many dead people?” Magda said.

Stefan said, “He doesn’t work with the dead people, Magda. Only the live ones.”

Rina laughed softly. Her father was serious. “Have some green beans, Mama. They’re Italian cut.”

“I’ll take some green beans,” Jake said.

“Certainly,” Magda said. “They’re good for you.”

“Who was whacked?” Sammy asked.

“Whacked?” Rina said. “Is that how they teach you to talk in yeshiva?”

“That’s how Dad talks.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does,” Sammy insisted. “He talks like that to Marge all the time. Just not to you.”

It was true. Rina said, “No one was murdered. A family has disappeared.”

“Israeli diamond dealer,” Stefan said.

“Anyone we know?” Jake asked.

“I don’t think so,” Rina answered.

“Isn’t your friend who’s coming out married to a diamond dealer?” Magda asked.

“Honey?” Rina said. “Yes, she is.”

Sammy looked up from his plate. “Who’s coming out?”

“An old friend of mine and her kids—”

“Great. I’m going to lose my room.”

“Hospitality is a mitzvah, Sammy,” Rina said. “I’m sure they taught you about hachnasat orchim somewhere in your yeshiva education.”

“How long?” Sammy turned to his brother. “Pass the beans, Yonkie.”

Jake gave his brother the bowl. “They can have my room, Eema. I’ll move into the attic.”

“You will not move into the attic. Your father hasn’t put in the heater and we don’t even have a decent staircase up there yet.”

“So I’ll be careful and use double blankets. I like it up there. It’s quiet and I have a view.”

“It’s a perfect solution,” Sammy said. “Please pass the lasagne, Omah.”