“Should we invite you know who?”

“Already done. He’s making blondies and brownies. Maybe a chocolate babka. He’s baking everything here because I have all the pareve ingredients. He should be here in an hour.”

“Then I should hustle. Never greet anyone in a bathrobe.”

“Not a good idea at all.” She kissed his cheek. “Go get ready. There’s coffee in the kitchen, by the way. But it’s from like seven in the morning.”

“I’ll make a fresh pot when I come out.”

He’d just finished dressing when he heard a knock on the door. As soon as he opened it, the whirlwind started. His grandsons had reached double digits in age and their heights were off the charts, not surprising since Mom and Dad were tall. They had mocha-colored skin—a cross between Cindy’s pale and Koby’s black complexions. They were named after their grandfathers, Akiva for Decker and Aaron for Koby’s father. Though identical twins, Akiva was slightly taller than Aaron, and was the easier going of the two. Aaron was intensity squared. The boys had auburn curls and large, dark eyes with long lashes. They wore T-shirts, shorts, and sneakers. Each one was dribbling his own basketball; Decker had put up a hoop on the garage several years ago. They often talked at the same time, asking in unison if Grandpa wanted to play.

Decker said, “You guys start without me. I promise I’ll be with you in a bit.”

Cindy was holding several bags. He kissed his daughter and took the bags.

“Come into the kitchen. I was just about to make coffee. How are you guys? It’s been a while.”

“Too busy for our own good.” Koby was carrying an ice chest. He placed it on the kitchen counter and began to pour the excess water from homemade ice packs into the sink. “Can I refreeze these bags for the way home?”

“Of course.”

Koby put the chest on the floor. “I should keep an eye on the boys.”

Decker said, “They’re fine … unless you want to shoot some hoops.”

“I’d like to move a little. It was a long ride.”

“Have fun. I’ll be out soon.”

Cindy was unpacking the bags. Decker regarded his daughter. She was on the dark side of forty. Just where did the time go? She looked muscular and fit. Her hair, by and large, was still flaming red, although a few strands of errant gray had snuck in. She wore jeans and an Eagles T-shirt. “We brought a few kosher items that Rina likes.” She looked around. “Where is Rina?”

“Outside grilling.”

“I’ll say hello in a minute,” she said. “By the way, did you find that guy you were looking for? Brock Baer?”

“Good memory. Not yet.”