Joseph wondered at his son-in-law. Did he not want to know what the regimen was? He seemed completely distracted.
“Did I see Stuart this morning, in front of the plant?” Isaac asked. If he was asking, then of course he had. When Joseph had invited Stuart to get in the car, Isaac had undoubtedly seen the whole thing from his office window.
“I took a drive up to Highlands. Asked him to go. Stuart was too polite to turn an old man down.”
“You’re not old.”
“No?”
“I would have been happy to drive you.”
“Next time?”
They crossed Atlantic Avenue and made their way north.
“You seem distracted, Isaac,” said Joseph. “Is it Fannie or something else?”
“Hmm?”
“I said that you seem distracted.”
Isaac shifted his satchel to his other shoulder. “I guess I am.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Isaac hesitated for a moment, then released a torrent. “There’s a good opportunity for me in Florida. A guy I know is selling a parcel of land, outside of Lake Okeechobee, for thirty dollars an acre. If I can get together three thousand dollars, it’s mine.”
“That’s a lot of money.”
“I’ve been shopping it around to investors. All I need is a few more people to buy in, and then it’s a win for everyone.”
“A lot of men in this town lost their shirts on Florida land deals in ’26.”
“Sure, I know,” said Isaac. “It’s part of the reason I’m getting this parcel so cheap. Playing the long game.”
They passed City Hall. “Did you hear the Commodore is sick?” Joseph asked, eager for a distraction. The city commissioner, Louis Kuehnle, was an Atlantic City legend.
Isaac couldn’t be deterred. “I thought it might be a good opportunity foryou. A chance to diversify your investments. If you agreed to buy fifty acres, I’d have enough commitments to close the deal.”
“Have you talked to Fannie about any of this?”
“A little.”
“What did she say?”
“You know how women are. They’ve got no head for business.”
How could Joseph tell Isaac that his plan was not just stupid but irresponsible? That investing in real estate he’d never seen was akin to buying the air he breathed. Sure, it was there but could he touch it?
“It’s a bad time for me,” said Joseph, thinking about the bank statement he’d just given Mrs. Simons. Directly in front of them sat the old bakery, the apartment above it.
“I still owe Abe for the burial, and I’m trying to help Anna’s parents get over here, if I can.” Joseph was also paying for Fannie’s hospital room—Isaac hadn’t even attempted to pay the bill since Esther had upgraded her to a private room—but he let that go unsaid.
“Anna’s parents?”
“Right.”
“Can’t they pay their own way over?”
