He heard his wife’s footsteps in the stairwell before she appeared in the corridor. From where he stood, outside Fannie’s room, he could fully appreciate her approach—the sure clip of her heels, the hard-set chin, the way her eyes were, perhaps for the first time in two months, open wide. Only her mouth, pinched at both sides, gave her away. She was afraid.
“Did you find him?” he asked when she was close enough that he could use a loud whisper.
“I gave up and left a note on the door of their apartment.”
“Where the hell could he be?”
“They haven’t moved her?”
“Not yet. I think soon.” He studied his wife’s anxious face.
They stood in silence for several minutes, still unsure of what to say to each other in the aftermath of their argument. When Joseph could stand it no longer, he spoke. “Bub, Mrs. Simons came to see me this afternoon.”
A look of concern flashed across Esther’s face. He knew she liked Mrs. Simons, always had.
“She’s fine,” said Joseph. “It’s Isaac.”
“What now?”
“She thinks he’s been stealing money from the company.”
Esther didn’t look surprised. Just tired. “How?”
“He brought on a few new accounts this month. In Northfield. Opened lines of credit for each of them. But Mrs. Simons says they’ve actually been paying for their orders in cash.”
“And she thinks Isaac’s been pocketing their payments?”
“She’s certain of it.”
She closed her eyes, kneaded the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “Have you talked to him?”
“Not yet.”
“What will you—”
The door opened and Dr. Rosenthal stepped into the hallway.
Esther looked up. “How is she?” she asked him.
“I want to give her a few more hours, see if she progresses on her own,” he said. “If she does, then we’ll move her.”
“May I see her?” Esther asked.
“Yes, but be quick. She needs to rest. You two should probably get some sleep as well.”
“Isaac may be on his way over,” said Esther, and Dr. Rosenthal cocked a disbelieving eyebrow.
“I’ll wait for him downstairs,” offered Joseph. He reached for his wife’s hand and squeezed it, nodded at the door of Fannie’s room. “Go.”
Esther didn’t squeeze his hand back, didn’t turn to look at him. As he watched her disappear into the room, he was struck, for the first time, by the full weight of their decision to keep Florence’s death from Fannie. It was exhausting to sit with Fannie, to so carefully consider every word, every facial expression. He had agreed to his wife’s plan but had not helped her see it through. It was no wonder she was angry all the time.
The lobby was empty. Joseph took a seat close to the door so he would be sure to see Isaac coming. What was his son-in-law doing out at three o’clock in the morning? He knew Esther had had good intentions when she insisted that Gussie come to stay with them for the summer but now Joseph wondered whether it might have been better to require Isaac to look after his own child. Esther could have watched Gussie during the day, while Isaac was at the office, but if their granddaughter had gone home with her father in the evenings, it was likely Isaac would have spent considerably less time putzing around Atlantic City, doing God knows what.
Isaac arrived at the hospital a few minutes later. When he yanked at the big front door, he let in the smell of the ocean breeze, which whipped across Absecon Island at night. Joseph watched Isaac scan the lobby. He raised a hand, then waited for his son-in-law to cover the distance between them.
“What’s happening?” Isaac said, in lieu of a greeting.
Joseph was not inclined to give him the information he wanted, certainly not yet. “Where were you?”
“I must not have heard the phone ring.”
“Or your mother-in-law pounding on your front door?”
Isaac didn’t even blink. “Right.”
“So, I am to believe that, in the middle of the night, you woke up and thought, ‘I’d better check the front door to see if anyone’s left me a note.’ ”
Isaac reached into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a wrinkled piece of paper, which he balled up and tossed onto Joseph’s lap. “Right. Now what’s going on?”
Joseph grabbed up the piece of paper and unfolded it, smoothing it against his knee. Sure enough, it was Esther’s note, short and to the point. In big letters she had written, The hospital tried to call you. Fannie is in labor. Where ARE you?
This behavior of Isaac’s was new, and it made Joseph nervous. Isaac might have always disliked Joseph and Esther but, until now, he had acted deferentially toward them.
“Are you drunk?” Joseph asked quietly.
“Where’s Fannie?”
“In her room but you can’t go up there right now.”
Isaac turned toward the stairs.
“Stop,” said Joseph. “The doctor said no more visitors.”
Isaac ignored him and kept walking in the direction of the stairs. Joseph was out of his chair in a split second, at Isaac’s side before he could fully consider his next move. He grabbed Isaac by the shoulder and yelled “Sit down!” in a voice far larger and louder than he’d ever used with his son-in-law, with anyone for that matter. Joseph watched Isaac wind back his arm, then watched it dawn on him that he was about to clock his father-in-law. “Please, sit down,” Joseph repeated, in a quieter voice than before.
Isaac unclenched his fist and returned it to his side. He looked around, found the nearest chair, and sank into it. Joseph followed, sitting in the chair next to him.
“Their plan is to try to let her get a little rest, and then take her to the labor room in a few hours.”
Isaac nodded vacantly. Did he even care?
“What’s going on, Isaac?” He didn’t smell like alcohol, just sweat.
Isaac didn’t answer.
“Is this about the Florida deal? I’m sorry I didn’t buy in.”
“It’s too late for
