“Jesus Christ, Lev. Will you give it a rest?” I stepped closer, until I was almost standing on top of him. “I’ve heard enough of your ridiculous theories. Kassian did not kill my father. He fell. He tripped and fell down the stairs. It was an accident.” I shouted the words at him.

Lev’s expression didn’t change. “Do you believe your father’s death and the disappearance of his diamonds is a coincidence?” he asked, voice level.

I licked my lips. I didn’t usually believe in odd coincidences, but … “Yeah, I guess it is. Sometimes things just happen and they seem related, even if they’re not. I mean, Kassian? Come on. Have you ever spoken to him?” I inched away from Lev.

“Yes, of course. He claims he is from a town near where I was raised. In Russia. We have spoken on many occasions. That is how I know he is guilty.”

“Why do you dislike him so much?”

Lev’s features tightened. “He does not reflect well on Russian Jews. And he is an unscrupulous liar.”

Tell me what you really think. “We’ve been through this before. Just because you don’t like someone doesn’t mean he’s a murderer.” I fished the car keys out of my pocket. “I’ve got to get going.”

Lev grabbed my arm. “Joshua. Please listen to me. Your father and I were cut from the same length of cloth. He would do this for me, if our positions were reversed. His death was not an accident. You have the criminal living under your roof. You must do something. If not for yourself or for me, then for your father. He was a man of justice.”

I thought of all the Soviet Jewry marches he went on. He always had been a staunch advocate for justice. Sometimes to the exclusion of his family. “I’ll talk to Kassian again, Lev. I don’t know what else to do about it.”

“Go to the police. Explain the situation. They will see. You are too overcome with grief to see things clearly. They will see. You must go to them.”

“Why don’t you go to the police? You’re a lot more passionate in your beliefs than I am.”

He shook his head. “No. You are his son. You must go. They will believe you. Me, all they will see is a senile old Russkie with crazy ideas.”

Would they be that far off?

Lev continued. “Besides, I have too many bad memories of dealing with the police. Back home, I had many run-ins with our authorities. Of course, your police are different here. Not corrupt. Not vicious. In your country, they do not throw you in prison for what you believe.”

I held my hand up. “I said I’ll talk to Kassian again. But I still don’t think he could have done it. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Madmen often don’t make sense,” Lev said, point made.

I left him on the driveway and drove off. Kassian killing my father didn’t make sense, any way you sliced it. But I didn’t really believe in coincidences, either.

___

I stopped at the Giant on the way home and stocked up on groceries. Got plenty of fresh fruit and vegetables, a few packages of boneless chicken breast, and a couple of pounds of salmon. One of my New Year’s resolutions was to eat better and get into shape. Since I’d left Dani, most of my meals had come wrapped in paper and been accompanied by fries and a shake.

As I put away the food, I noticed movement out the window in the back. Someone was crossing through the yard toward the woods. My father’s house backed up to an expansive wooded area bisected by hiking trails, part of the county-owned park system. The trails weaved through the trees and connected with other trails and paths, providing those inclined with a means for getting around by foot. Every time a proposal to develop some of the parkland surfaced, it was shot down. Reston was a town full of exercise- and nature-loving liberals, and they fought like cornered animals when it came to protecting their natural environs.

I moved closer to the window to get a better look. The small hiker had an odd gait, but one I recognized. Kassian was going for a stroll in the woods.

I thought about following him and grilling him, but I was exhausted. Listening to Lev’s wild-ass accusations was draining, and I’d bored myself silly tearing the house apart looking for the phantom diamonds. Maybe it was all some kind of ruse. Perpetrated by I-don’t-know-who, for I-don’t-know-why, but intended to drive me nuts. If so, it was working.

I let Kassian enjoy his nature walk while I got ready for my date with Rachel.

___

At two minutes to seven the doorbell rang. I opened the door, and there she was, dressed in black jeans and a green blouse, hands clasped in front of her like a proper schoolgirl. She didn’t look like any tomboy I’d ever seen. With her dark complexion, model-like cheekbones, and curly, shoulder-length hair, I had a hard time believing she was “available.”

“Hi, Josh Handleman,” she said. “I’m Rachel.” She stuck her hand out as if she were running for office.

I gave it a little pump. She had a small hand, but a firm grip. “Hello, Rachel. It’s nice to see you again.” I opened the door wider. “Come in.”

“Thanks.” She smiled, and a couple of crooked teeth broke the illusion of perfection she’d been casting. “But why don’t we pretend we’ve never met before? I don’t think knowing me when I was fourteen counts as knowing me.”

“Fair enough. You look …” I stepped back and made a show of checking her out. “Fantastic. Tammy was right.”

She chucked me on the shoulder. “Shut up,” she said, but her grin widened. She was a happy girl and I could feel the energy radiating from her, in waves. “Hungry?”

“Sure. Didn’t have much lunch.”

“And a guy’s got to eat, right?” she said, smile not faltering in the least. “Let’s go. I’ll drive.”

She drove us—in her blue Prius—to a little pan-Asian place in a strip mall in Sterling. It wasn’t crowded. “Trust me. This place looks dead, but it’s got great food. A friend of mine turned me on to it last year,” Rachel said as we were seated. “You like spicy food, right?”

I nodded. “The spicier, the better.”

We examined the menu, which ran to ten pages. Chinese, Thai, Vietnamese, Korean. I wondered how many chefs were back in the kitchen, but judging by the size of the place and the lack of diners, I figured it was probably just one guy from West Virginia armed with a few cookbooks, winging it. I shut the menu. “Why don’t you order for us? You’ve eaten here before. You know what’s good.”

Her face lit up. “Okay. My pleasure,” she said, and she reached across the table and touched my hand. “Sure you trust me?”

Sparks ran across the back of my hand. “Should I?”

“Of course. I’m very trustworthy. Just ask my Girl Scout leader. You’ll have to wait until she gets out of prison, though,” she said, straight-faced. She removed her hand and studied the menu a little longer. The hairs on my hand still tingled where her fingers had rested.

The waiter came and Rachel ordered. Soup, appetizers, main course. Instead of writing down our order, the waiter repeated it back to us, in broken English. I wondered if we would get anything we actually ordered. I wondered if we would even be able to tell.

“So, what do you do?” I asked, after the waiter disappeared into the back. “Besides stalk your sister’s old boyfriends?”

“I don’t do that much anymore. Too many restraining orders.” She made a face. “I’m a third-grade teacher.”

“Oh, really? They let you near children?” The banter came easy and natural.

“I’ll have you know, I’m the most popular teacher at the school. The kids are always chanting, ‘We heart Miss Rosen.’”

“You sure it’s not ‘We hate Miss Rosen’?”

“Funny,” she said, scrunching up her nose.

“Well, I don’t remember many teachers like you back when I was in elementary school.”

She furrowed her brow. “You can remember back that far?”

“Hey, I’m only a few years older than you.”

“Really? I would have guessed you were older than that,” she said.

“Funny,” I said, scrunching up my nose.

“Nice comeback. I’m guessing you’re not a stand-up comedian.”

I tried to remember the last time I flirted like this. When Dani and I sniped at each other, it was the real deal.

Rachel glanced around the restaurant, and I followed her eyes. A few more people were being seated. She turned back to me. “Tammy said you have your own business, but she wasn’t too forthcoming with the details.”

“I owned a liquidation firm. You know, when a company goes out of business, we come in and find buyers for their stuff. Furniture, computers, inventory, whatever.”

“Like vultures?” she asked, giving me a look of mock horror.

That’s what my father used to say, too, only there was nothing mock about his derision. “Not quite. We work to get as much value as possible for these companies. We don’t drive them out of business. We just help them as best we can. In fact, that’s why we’re so competitive. Because we aren’t vultures, like some of the other firms. I try to be as compassionate—and fair—as possible.”

“Okay. I believe you. Sounds depressing though, being around all that failure.”

“Yeah, I guess it is, a little. We got a lot of business from the dot-com bust. And many of the guys we worked with weren’t losing their own money—it was venture capital. Almost like play money. It was a weird time, all right.” I clammed up, not wanting to run on too long and put Rachel to sleep.

She hadn’t taken her eyes off me. “You said ‘owned,’ like in past tense. What happened?”

“Technically, I’m still part-owner. Except I haven’t gone in to the office in the past two months.”

“Sounds like a great gig, if you can get it,” Rachel said, but I could tell she was trying to be nice. She must have sensed there was some unpleasant explanation from my tone.

“My partner and I had a falling out. A big one.” I shook my head, sorry to put a downer on things. “I’ll let my lawyer sort things out.”

Luckily, I was saved by the arrival of the soup. Followed by the spicy vegetables and spring rolls, and then our main courses. And Rachel was right, the food was terrific.

While we ate, we talked about small things, probing and testing, trying to figure out how to pigeon-hole each other. Likes, dislikes, similarities, differences. Seeing if any deal-breakers breached the surface. Typical first date stuff. But Rachel wasn’t your typical first date. She was someone worth the effort, at least as far as I could tell right now, right there, sitting in a restaurant in a strip mall in Sterling.

When the check came, I reached out to grab it, but Rachel beat me to it. “My treat. I asked you out, remember?”

“Okay. Thanks. But next time it’s on me.”

“If there is a next time, you mean,” she said, and I could hear the “wink” in her voice. “Let’s go.” I liked the fact that Rachel was a take-charge woman. Dani often played the part of the damsel in distress, and she’d been pretending she’d been in distress far too often in the latter stages of our marriage.

Rachel drove me home and pulled into the driveway. “Here we are.”

I turned in my seat to face her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How come you are available? I’d think you’d have to fight guys off with a stick. A large one.”

In the dim light, I thought I detected a blush. “I just got out of a relationship. Ended kinda badly. So …” She perked up. “Now I’m available.”

Sounded logical. “Want to come in? Have a drink?”

Rachel smiled. “I had a great time tonight. Really. But if I came in, one thing would lead to another, and …”

Yes?

“… well, I may be fun and I may be available, but I’m not easy.” She flipped her hair out of her face and leaned over. Our mouths connected in a nice, lingering kiss.

She broke it off. “Besides, technically, you’re still married.” She straightened up and hit the button to unlock the doors. “Good night, Josh.”

I got out and waved goodbye. Trudged up the path to the door. I thought things were going great. Then reality came into focus. What would a great girl like Rachel see in me, especially in my current guise of Depressed Josh? I dragged myself inside and found the phone ringing. I snatched it up. “Hello?”

“Josh?”

It was Rachel. “Yeah?” I went to the front window and pushed the curtain aside with my finger. Her car was still in the driveway.

“I don’t have any plans for New Year’s Eve. Would you like to go out with me?”

“I, uh, tomorrow night?” My heart beat faster.

“That’s New Year’s Eve, isn’t it? Come on, we’ll have fun.”

“I thought I was technically married,” I said.

“Life’s too short to get hung up on silly technicalities. What do you say?”

I’d talked to Erik about going out with him and Katy, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if I brought a date. Katy never liked Dani anyway. “Okay. Sounds great. We can catch up with some friends of mine, if you’re game.”

“Think you might need some help to ‘crack me’?” She laughed. “Wise move. Although I …” She stopped talking.

“What?” I squinted at the car, but couldn’t make out anything in the darkness.

“I may not be easy, but I’m not all that hard either.”

My kind of girl. “I’ll pick you up around eight. Sound good?”

“Looking forward to it. Bye, Josh Handleman.”

I watched her car back out of the driveway and zoom off. Maybe I wasn’t as much of a downer as I thought. My prospects for a Happy New Year were looking up.