Henry gave Miri a questioning look but Miri didn’t say anything.
“And now Frekki’s cooked up some mishegoss about getting together with a Rabbi Beiderman,” Rusty said. “To make a plan.”
“A plan?” Henry asked.
Miri handed him Frekki’s note.
Henry read it. “I know a good lawyer,” he said. “I’m sure he’ll advise us as a family friend.”
The lawyer, Gregg Bender, came over after dinner. He and Henry were old friends. They used to play basketball together at the Y. Rusty made coffee.
“She doesn’t want to see him,” Rusty told Gregg Bender, offering cream and sugar for his coffee and a plate of store-bought cookies. “Isn’t that right, Miri? Isn’t that what you told me?”
“I did say that.”
“There!” Rusty said. “You see? If she never wants to see him again why should we agree to have this meeting? Can someone please explain that to me?”
“Did you mean it?” Henry asked Miri. “Are you afraid of him?”
“No, I’m not afraid of him.” And no, I didn’t really mean it but how am I supposed to let you know that without Rusty going crazy?
“I understand how you feel, Rusty,” Gregg Bender said. “But this is about Miri’s future. As I see it, this could be an opportunity. Let’s say Mr. Monsky puts away a nest egg for her education—”
“I’ve already started a savings account for her education,” Rusty said. “Every week since I started working I’ve put something into it.”
“So have I,” Henry said, surprising Miri. “It’s not a lot but it’ll help pay for her tuition.”
“Thank you, Uncle Henry,” Miri whispered, afraid if she said anything more she’d start bawling.
“You see?” Rusty said to Gregg. “We have it all worked out. So why should we say yes to Frekki and her brother?”
“For one thing, to avoid this matter going to court,” Gregg said. “To keep it friendly.”
“Friendly?” Rusty gave a false laugh. “That’s a good one!”
“For another…” And now Gregg looked at Miri. “Because she has a right to know her father.”
“He is no father!” Rusty turned on her heel and headed for her bedroom. She slammed the door like a frustrated, angry teenager.
“This is very hard for Rusty,” Henry said.
Gregg nodded. “I imagine so.”
Miri wanted to say, What about me? Don’t you think it’s hard for me? But she didn’t.
—
RABBI BEIDERMAN’S HOUSE was on a quiet street in Maplewood in a neighborhood of pretty old houses with flowering trees and lawns that would soon be green. Daffodils and tulips were sprouting. Miri might have sat in the rumble seat today if Henry still had his old coupe. But he’d given that to Leah so she no longer had to take the bus to work and he drove a new Chevy. He’d gotten a good deal on last year’s model. Nobody wanted a maroon car. They passed a church as they turned onto the rabbi’s street. Wasn’t it strange for a rabbi to live near a church? The lawyer, Gregg Bender, was already there, parked in his car, waiting for them.
The rabbi was clean-shaven, dressed in weekend clothes, a tweed jacket over a blue oxford cloth shirt, no tie. She’d never seen a rabbi out of his robes. She’d never thought of a rabbi having a nice house on a nice street in a good neighborhood, wearing regular clothes, having a wife and kids. He welcomed them into a book-lined room with a sofa and four club chairs around a coffee table. Photos of his children at different ages were scattered around the room.
Henry made the introductions. “Glad to meet you, Rabbi,” he said, shaking hands. “I’m Henry Ammerman, this is my sister, Rusty Ammerman, my niece, Miri Ammerman, and Gregg Bender, our lawyer, who is here as a family friend.”
“Welcome to all of you,” the rabbi said. “I admire your work, Mr. Ammerman. Please, make yourselves comfortable. We have coffee and Danish. Miri, would you like a glass of milk or orange juice?”
“No thank you.”
Gregg Bender helped himself to a cheese Danish and a cup of coffee. Henry did the coffee thing, too. Rusty fidgeted with her pocketbook, pulling out a linen handkerchief, embroidered on one corner. She was probably hoping Frekki and Mike Monsky wouldn’t show up.