“So be my rabbi, Justice.” I sighed. “Forget it. We’d better get back to El Paso.”

“Yeah, we’ve been gone so long, he probably thinks we’re doing it.” He smiled. “There’s still time.”

I held in a scream. “Brill, stop trying to get play. I’ve got a very serious boyfriend; you’ve got a wife; let’s both be constructive, all right?”

He continued to stare at me.

“You want me to partner with you. I’m dying to do it. But if I have to worry about this kind of garbage, I’m going to ask for a transfer. And then they’ll ask why.”

He thought about it and shrugged. “You still owe me.”

“I know, I know. …” I patted his shoulder. “Patience, Brill. The time will come. It always does. Shall we get a move on?”

He pointed to the door. “Ladies first.”

I went first.

It was nice to know that chivalry wasn’t dead. It just had been redefined.

43

As summer waned, bleeding out the last bits of extended daylight, I found that time took on an urgency of purpose, all the pressure self-imposed, of course, because no one was rushing me to the next step. But there I was on the threshold, one foot in the air, ready to cross the line. When I pulled up at my father’s house that radiant Sunday morning, I still had reservations. Someone, please tell me what important decisions were ever made easily?

He answered the door, a surprised look on his face. “Hi, baby. Did you tell me you were coming?”

“Nope. This is a pop-in, one of those times I get to catch you in dirty clothes and in need of a shave.”

He stroked his chin. “The shave, yes; the clothes are clean. Come in, honey.”

Dad was in a white T-shirt and jeans. I wore white cotton pants and a deep green blouse—the type of outfit that could be for business or pleasure. I continued to stand outside. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” He was perplexed. “Any reason you’re still at the door?”

“How about we take a walk?”

My father’s expression turned more quizzical. “If you want privacy, I’m the only one home.”

“In that case …” I came into the living room—quiet and peaceful. “Where is everyone?”

“Rina and the kids went to an Israel rally in town.”

“And you?”

“What can I say? My Zionistic fervor can’t compete with Sunday baseball.” He smiled. “Sometimes I just need to do something mindless. Let someone else handle the strategy while I criticize.”

“Boy, do I know that feeling. You work hard, Dad, you’re entitled.”

The Loo studied my face. “Cindy, you look bothered. Is everything all right?”

“Great. I haven’t had a street dream in two months. Pretty good, no?”

Decker frowned. “Very good, except I didn’t know you were having them.”

“Well, they’re gone, so why worry you?” I smiled. “No feedback yet on my application to Detectives. But at this point, I’ll assume that no news is good news.”