Jacob held up his carry-on.

“Oh, that’s right. You’re leaving.” So much for his hunting down Shayndie. “Okay. So we’ll see Jacob off and go back to Brooklyn.”

Rina stepped in. “You look like you have a few pickup items to do here in Manhattan before you go back. I’ll take Hannah and the packages back.”

“What about our walk?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Then she whispered, “We have our exercise later on tonight.” She turned to her daughter. “Come, Chanaleh, let’s say good-bye to your brother.”

Everyone took turns saying good-bye to Jacob. By the time her younger son left, there were tears in Rina’s eyes. Then she said, “Now the hard part. Finding a cab that’s willing to take us across the bridge.”

Rivka spoke up. “Nonsense. We’ve got a car. We’ll take you. Where are you going?”

“Boro Park. Where do you live?”

“Englewood.”

“It’s way out of your way.” “It’s fine. Shragy’s parents live there. We should stop by so Reuven can say hello. Shragy, help her with the bags.” Rivka said to Rina, “We’ll go bring the car around.”

“Thank you,” Rina answered.

After the Millers left with Reuven, Decker held his daughter’s hand and smiled at his wife. “I’m not really doing anything in the city. Just bumming around.”

“You want to try one more time,” Rina said.

“You know me too well.”

He seemed so demoralized. Rina squeezed his hand. “You’re not responsible for saving the world, Peter.”

“Yes, I know. It only seems that way.”

17

Heading downtown from Forty-eighth Street, Decker started walking, hands in his pockets, coat wrapped tight around his chest. Twenty blocks later, he was in front of the address of Ephraim Lieber’s chapter of Emek Refa’im. It corresponded to a basement somewhere in the Garment District. During daylight hours, the area was teeming with people, many of them pushing steel racks of clothing from one location to another. Blocks of stores and marts, showcasing one line after another, the rag reps promising their buyers exclusives on the newest items in the fickle world of fashion. At this time of night, the streets were dark and quiet, its huge monolithic structures casting shadows over the pavement, filmy moonlight breaking through the steel clouds. Artificial lights illuminated an occasional window: Someone was working overtime, getting the jump.

With nothing to keep him in the area, he retraced his steps uptown. Maybe he could reach Sammy and accompany him back to Washington Heights in a cab. Then, because he wasn’t too far away, he could swing by Donatti’s on the way back. He got to the hotel a little after nine, but the jazz set still had forty minutes to go. Since there was a café nearby, Decker stopped in and ordered a pot of herbal tea. He might as well keep warm.

Five minutes into his Lemon Zinger, he realized how ludicrous his idea had been. Sammy was on a date, for goodness’ sake! Decker’s was probably the last face he’d want to see. He took a final sip, then put down a fiver and left. At Forty-fifth and Eighth, he hailed a cab.