and a half baths, and a wood-burning fireplace with erratic radiator heating. The selling point was the previous owner’s remodel. He had opened up the ceiling and exposed the beams. It was not only aesthetically pleasing, it allowed Decker and his six-four frame to move about the house without bumping into door headers. The yard was now brown and lifeless but they had bought the house in the fall when autumn leaves were ablaze with color and the weather had been brisk and beautiful. Spring was going to be a true spring, not an L.A. spring with fog and smog.
The house had only a one-car garage where Decker parked the Porsche, leaving Rina’s old Volvo in the driveway. Every morning, Decker cleared the windshield and moved the car to the street so he could get out. It was the least he could do for schlepping her to pursue his dream.
The advantage of the new location was driving distance to their four biological children—two were hers, one was his, and one was shared—as well as their foster son, Gabe Whitman, who was busy touring as a classical pianist. Two of the five were married so there were spouses and grandchildren in the mix. Decker’s daughter, Cindy, who had been a GTA detective in L.A., was working patrol in Philadelphia. But it was just a matter of time before she was promoted back up to being a gumshoe.
The house was warm with wafting cooking aromas, immediately putting Decker in a good mood. Inside the compact but modernized kitchen, Rina was working, her hair tucked into a knitted tam that she wore for religious reasons. She was garbed in a thin blue cotton sweater and a knee-length denim skirt, stirring a soup for tomorrow night’s Shabbat dinner. She was using a big cauldron, which meant guests.
“How many are we expecting?” Decker kissed her cheek.
Rina kissed him back on the lips. “Six to eight. But lunch will be just the two of us, so don’t fret.”
“I like company.”
“Liar. But you’re a good sport. Go change. Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.”
Decker sat on a chair at the breakfast bar. “I’d rather talk to you and get some pleasant company for a change.”
“The kid is still getting on your nerves.”
“He gets on everyone’s nerves.”
“Why don’t you invite him over for tomor—”
“No.”
“Take the high road, Peter.”
“I’m taking no road. He’s nasty and condescending. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with him at work. Why should I let him ruin my weekend or, even worse, inflict him on you? He’d only wind up needling me for being observant, narrow-minded, and provincial.”
“Or maybe he’d see another side of you.”
“If I invited him over, it would only feed his delusions that he really is my superior.”
“The kid might be a snot, but I guarantee you he knows who the real cop is. He probably feels like an imposter.”
“He is an imposter.”
“Give him a chance.”
“He won’t accept the invitation from me.”
“So maybe he’ll accept it from me.” Rina picked up the phone. “What’s his cell?”
After Decker gave her the number, she punched it in and waited. “Hi. I’m looking for Tyler McAdams?”
Over the line, the kid said, “You called my cell so you found me. Who is this?”
Decker heard his response and mouthed, I told you so.
Rina blithely continued. “This is Rina Decker. My husband and I wanted to invite you over for dinner tomorrow night.” There was a long pause over the line. She went on. “I don’t know if Peter told you but we’re Jewish and we’re observant. I’m having six to eight students here from the colleges and I thought they might be interested in what people do postgraduation, even if it’s a temporary job.”
McAdams still didn’t speak. Finally, he said, “Uh, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. If it’s an inconvenient time, we’ll take a rain check. We usually have people over Friday night, so it’s open-ended. But I’d love to meet you. I always check out my husband’s partners.”
“No, you don’t,” Decker whispered.
She gave him a playful slap. “Please come.”
“Sure … great. What time?”
Decker was making a face. Rina wagged her finger. “Six-thirty. It’s pretty informal. And I’m a great cook.”
“Sounds like a win-win situation because I like to eat. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. We look forward to seeing you. Bye.” She hung up. “Done.”
“It’s not enough that he’s a leech at work. Once he’s tasted your food, I’ll never get him off my back.”
Rina took the casserole out of the oven. “Lots of people have ridden on your back and you’re none the worse for wear. You’ve got a strong set of shoulders. One more kid certainly won’t break your spine.”
The kid was on time, which would have been fine except that the students were on Jewish Standard Time. Rina answered the door and proceeded to charm while Decker elected to sulk. It seemed like a lifetime until the other guests arrived. The group—four guys and two girls—brought flowers and wine, leaving the empty-handed McAdams feeling a little sheepish. “I thought this was informal. I would have brought something.”
Decker said, “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worried, but I just don’t want to look like a clod.”
“If only you could remedy that with a bottle of wine.” Decker smiled and put his arm around the kid as he led him to the table. “C’mon, Harvard. Just relax.” Introductions were made all around. Decker whispered, “There are a couple of ritual blessings we need to make. The first one is over the wine—”
“I know what Kiddush is,” McAdams said. “There are one or two Jews in the Ivies. I had a Jewish girlfriend at one point.”
“What happened?”
“She’s not my girlfriend anymore, that’s what happened.”
“She dumped you.” When McAdams shot him a dirty look, Decker said, “It happens.” He seated himself at the head of the table.
Rina said, “Tyler, why don’t you sit here between Adam and Jennifer. Both of them are interested in law and I know you’ve gotten into Harvard Law.”
“Adam and McAdams,” Decker said. “Already sounds like a law firm.”
Rina
