She sat down first. He had the good sense to sit on the other side and place the packages in the middle. She watched his jacket fall open. She saw the gun, tucked into an internal pocket. She knew that he was very aware of her eyes on the piece. Something had clicked in those icy orbs.

They sipped coffee.

It was obvious that her edginess was pleasing him. Still, she waited for him to talk. She’d wait as long as he wanted. She was good at staring contests.

Finally, he spoke. “Don’t you Jewish women cover your hair in public?”

“I’m wearing a wig,” Rina answered.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a good one.”

“And an expensive one, too. It’s made out of human hair.”

“Really?” He swallowed coffee. “Now how does that work? Do they scalp someone for it?”

“No. They buy the hair from women who grow their own hair long and harvest it. It’s a very time-consuming process. I think my wig probably comes from Asian women. It’s very straight, and it doesn’t frizz up in the fog.”

“What’s your natural hair look like?”

“Mine?” Rina touched her bangs. “This is my natural hair.”

“That dark?”

“Yes, it’s almost black.”

“Wig’s a good match.”

“Very good match.”

Silence.

“Doesn’t it kind of defeat the purpose?” He gave her a hungry stare. “If you’re trying to be unattractive to other men, you’re doing a poor job.”

Rina met his eyes with her own. “The reasons for covering your hair go beyond physical attractiveness. I have some sweet rolls in the white waxed bag. Help yourself, Mr. Donatti.”

“You can call me Chris.” He moved his eyes up and down her body, slowly and with purpose. “After all, I’ve called you Rina many times in my fantasies.”

“You may call me Rina in real life. I have no problem with that.”

Neither one talked.

Chris ran his tongue in his cheeks, his eyes never leaving her face. “You know, I’ve had lots of girls, Rina. Lots and lots and lots of them. When girls literally fall in your lap, it gets a little old. It gets harder and harder—no pun intended—to get excited about someone. That means forbidden fruit begins to look very attractive.”

Silence.

Rina became aware of the children at play—such sweet, sweet sounds. Before she said anything, she made a point to formulate her thoughts. Then she spoke in a clear, steady voice. “Were you raised with any organized religion, Mr. Donatti?”

“Chris, please.” A slow smile. “We’re all friends here.”

“Certainly. Were you raised with any organized religion, Chris?”

Donatti continued to look her over. “Catholic.”

“So you know a little bit of Bible, maybe?”

Chris smiled. “I wasn’t a very good Catholic, Rina.”

“Do you know about Yaakov and Aesav? Jacob and Esau in English.”

“It’s been a while.” A predatory smirk. “Why don’t you fill me in?”

“Jacob and Esau were brothers… twins by birth, but that’s as far as it went. They were very different. Jacob was a quiet, learned man— ish tam as we say in Hebrew. He studied; he behaved well; he did what his father instructed him to do; he didn’t cause any problems. Esau was very different. He is described as an ish sadde—a man of the field. He was a superb hunter, a fine warrior, masculine, probably handsome, too. He was very charming, and his manners were beyond reproach.