“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?”
