“I’ll cancel his reservation then.”

“I can do it if you give me the particulars.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. Let me get a pencil and paper.”

She gave me the flight number and the locator letters.

“This took some work,” I told her. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Who’s paying for the ticket?”

“It’s been taken care of.”

“Boy… if he asked you to call me, he must be really sick.”

“No, he’s not really sick. I’m sure he’ll be fine. But I think he’d appreciate a visit. Actually, he doesn’t even know that I called you. That was my idea.”

“You aren’t paying for the ticket, are you?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll pay you back—”

“Please, I mean it,” she insisted. “Not another moment’s thought. This will be our secret.”

“All right.” I thanked her again. “Please say hello to the lieutenant for me. Send him my fondest regards. Tell him things are going well.”

“I will. I’m glad to hear that.”

“Thank you.” The moments ticked on. “You’re a very lucky woman. Then again, I suppose the lieutenant’s a very lucky man.” I heard myself chuckling over the phone. “Of course, people do create their own luck, don’t they?”

“Some people get the breaks.”

“That’s nice of you to say, but I really do believe that people make choices. Of course, no one is doomed by one’s past mistakes. Instead of drowning in the flood, you might as well build a swimming pool.”

The Levines’ two-bedroom apartment was considered large by New York standards. Decker figured that “large” must have referred to height. While it was true that the ceilings were ten-feet plus, all that air didn’t add a toenail’s worth of square footage to the floor space. Jon and Raisie had been kind enough to put him up in the kids’ bedroom for privacy, moving their three small children to the living room on couches and futons. The kids’ quarters were all beds— bunk beds and a second twin abutting the lower bunk. Decker had slept, sprawled out over the two lower twins, using the upper berth for his suitcase because there was no room in the closet for his clothes. There was a small desk jammed into a corner, but it was piled so high with papers and supplies that it was in danger of avalanching.

Somehow he managed to squeeze his six-foot-four frame into the bathroom to shower. Using only a modicum of contortion, he shaved, dressed, and said his morning prayers. By ten, he owned the place. Raisie had gone out, first to walk the kids to school, then back to shiva, but she had shown ample consideration by leaving him a full pot of brewed coffee and the New York Times. Jonathan had left early, had taken the subway to work, leaving him the van.

He was on his second cup when his cellular rang. Rina was on the other end of the line. “How’s your face?”