“He’s a busy man, Rachel. When he has time, he’ll call,” Levy said and he hung up. She went out to the Florida room and stood next to the window wall and looked out for a long time, trying to figure out why Jacob should sound so cold about calling Roger Hawkins. Hawkins had been Adam’s best friend. “If I was in trouble,” Adam had said once, “I’d call Hawkins. I feel safe with him. We used to go to Astoria, to the Italian section where they hate blacks and Jews the same, and we’d sit in any bar there, with the whites trying to look like they were going to kill Hawkins because he was black and me because I was a nigger-­lover, or a Jew, and either way they hated me. I’m a little guy and they smirked when I stood up to go to the can or order another beer but I always felt safe with Roger. Not just because he was big. Though he is. One of those men who never seem to stop standing up. He says he’s six three. I think he’s taller. . . . But anyway, it wasn’t just that. It was this gentleness about him. A wall of gentleness and humor. And pretty soon he’d smile at the wops at the bar and their eyes would lose that hard look, and I’d remember what handsome people they are, and I’d be smiling too. We made friends, just like that. If I’m ever in trouble, Rache, get Roger Hawkins. If you’re ever in trouble and I can’t help, get Roger Hawkins.”

Was she in trouble? She couldn’t sleep and she longed for company that wasn’t Jewish and female. Or Jewish and a dentist from Centerreach or a psychiatrist from Glen Cove.

She called information. She knew he lived in Queens, but she didn’t know the street. She knew he lived with his mother, which seemed crazy, since he could have lots of women, but she didn’t know his mother’s name. There were three R. Hawkinses listed in Queens. The second number she called was his. His mother answered and gave her his office number. His secretary answered there. Rachel held on while the woman went to get him, and she realized that she was looking forward to hearing his voice so much that she was a little breathless. But it was the woman who came back on, saying that he was busy and he’d call her back. She hung up and thought that after all this time he could talk to her at least for a second. Or tell her himself that he was busy and would call later. She heated up the soup, sliced the roast.