“Not an Eema dinner. But Yonkie made me cheese and applesauce and a glass of milk. Does that count as a dinner?”

Decker wasn’t sure if the food qualified or not. “I suppose it’s okay.”

“So can I have chocolate milk and chips. Oh, and a plum, too?”

“I suppose.”

“Great! You want to watch TV with me?”

“Maybe a little later.”

“Okay. I’ll wait for my snack.”

“Uh…shouldn’t you be doing something else?”

The seven-year-old looked at him. “What?”

“Like shouldn’t you be reading or playing outside…something other than watching TV?”

She sighed with exasperation. “Eema already took me ice-skating, then I went to the liberry and took out two new books that I’m ’posed to read before I go to bed. Then I drew six pictures with my new berry-scented markers. Then Yonkie and I played Street Fighter II for an hour. Now I’m tired. But if you want me to be bored and turn off the TV, I’ll do it.”

Put it that way, TV watching seemed perfectly reasonable. “No, no,” Decker said. “It seems like you’ve had a busy day.”

“I’ve had a very busy day, Daddy. I’m tired and hungry. Cheese is not enough for a growing girl.”

Decker smiled. “I’ll get you your snack.” He retreated into the kitchen, where he found Jacob engrossed in some kind of test study guide. The teen had finished off his junior year with straight A’s for the first time. He looked up. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Decker answered back.

“You look wiped.”

“A bit,” Decker admitted. “Where’s Eema?”

“The plane was delayed…and delayed…and delayed.”

“Poor Sammy. You didn’t go to the airport?”

“Eema felt the wait might be too long for Hannah.” He shrugged. “I volunteered to baby-sit. I might as well enjoy her and the comforts of home before I’m confined to a ten-by-twelve cell with nothing but a hard cot to sleep on and bread and water to eat.”

“I don’t think the accommodations at the yeshiva are that bad.”

“That’s what you think.” He closed his book and sat back in his chair. The boy’s face was flushed and pained. “I’ve heard a couple of the newscasts, you know.”

“Saying?”

“That the other Dr. Baldwin—the lady…you know. They’re saying it was suicide. What’d she do? Kill her husband and Ernesto in a fit of jealous rage, then kill herself?”

Decker shrugged.

“That’s how TV’s telling it.”

“Let’s hear it for little screen journalism.” Decker sat down. “Are you freaked?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty freaked. It’s horrible!”

“Are you talking to your friends about it?”

“What friends?”

“Are you talking to anyone about it?”

“I’m talking to you.”

Decker was quiet.

Jacob sat up. “A few people have called me up.”

“Lisa Halloway?”