“Help me,” Rachel said again, and he crossed the room to her. She was white and Adam’s widow, he told himself. Adam had been his best friend, and this was the day of his funeral. He stood in front of her and told her to bend her arms and hold them stiff. He tried not to look at the damp curls of her hair that escaped the scarf, or her nipples poking against the front of her dress. He looked over her head, cupped her elbows, and hoisted her up off the bed. Her belly brushed him, pressed lightly against his, and he got an erection. He knew she could feel it, and he stepped back quickly and crossed his hands in front of him preacher style.

She smiled at him. “We’re moving,” she said softly.

“Where?”

“Way out on the Island. Near Golda. We’re buying a house and a shop with the insurance money.”

“A shop?” he said stupidly. “You and Jacob?”

She nodded, still smiling at him. He sensed that she wanted to look down at his body. “It’s hard to imagine a Brooklyn Yiddish bookstore way out on the Island,” he said. They were whispering to each other.

“We’ll carry stationery, too, and some paperbacks. We’ll do all right. Jacob’ll give you the address . . . you’ll come to see us, won’t you? There’s a garden, and we’ll be near the Sound. . . .”

A tear ran down her cheek. He reached up to wipe it away, but before he could touch her the door opened, light from the hall came into the dim hot room, and Golda Cohen marched in. She stared at Hawkins and he knew how bad it looked: he was alone in a dark room with Rachel, reaching for her; he was big and black, she was frail and white, and he still had the hard on, which felt solid and frighteningly free; it would sway if he moved.

“I thought you’d gotten lost,” Golda said. He didn’t answer. She tried to look stern. “There’s fifty pounds of pickled fish waiting for you and my ass is melted.” She turned to Rachel. “You look like shit.”

He looked at that face; did she? he wondered. And how did she usually look? He remembered her as Adam’s bride, lifting her veil to kiss her new husband who was blushing and had shining eyes.

“It’s a hell in this place,” Golda said.

Rachel was looking at Hawkins over Golda’s shoulder.

“Come home with me,” Golda said. “It’s air-­conditioned, you can sit by the pool tomorrow. . . .”

“I can’t leave Jacob,” Rachel said.

“They’ll be here for seven days. He won’t even know you’re gone,” Golda said.

Hawkins backed to the door.

“He needs me, Golda.”

Golda shrugged. She had light red dyed hair, a big pleasant face, and eyes as warm as her father’s.