Two weeks later, I visited Erik at work. There was a different receptionist out front, just as protective as the previous one. But she was no match for my persuasive argument that all I needed was five minutes. She led me back to his office, glaring at me the whole way.

Today’s suit was a glen plaid, with a cream-colored shirt and abstract multi-hued tie. He hugged me, like always, and we sat on the couch. I hadn’t seen much of him since the incident at the Hebrew Home. “So,” he said. “Things settled down yet?”

I nodded. “Getting there. It’ll take some time.”

“I’ll bet. You started with Goose and Matt?” Erik glanced at me, then stared off into space.

“Yeah. Couple of days ago. It’s not my life’s work, but it’ll do until I figure out what I want to be when I grow up.”

Erik let out a small laugh. “Good luck with that,” he said. “How’re things with Rachel?”

“Good. Real good.” We’d gone out four or five times and things were moving along nicely. At a comfortable pace, for both of us. “We should all go out sometime.”

“Yeah. Katy would like that. I don’t think she liked Dani too much.”

I nodded, as if it were news to me, although I’d known Katy’s feelings almost since the day she met Dani. “Then I guess she’ll be happy. Yesterday, I filed the divorce papers.”

A grin spread across Erik’s face. “That’s good. I never really liked Dani much either.”

“What?” I said, acting pissed off, then breaking into my own smile. We sat for a moment in silence, before Erik cleared his throat.

“You had no idea Peter was in financial trouble?” he asked.

“No. How would I? He lived in a big house, had a small fleet of cars, vacationed all over the world,” I said. “He’d been diverting funds from his clients’ accounts for years, chasing wilder and wilder investment returns. When one thing tanked, he took from someone else. Some kind of twisted Ponzi scheme, except he was the ultimate victim.”

Erik shook his head. “Man.”

“Peter leveraged everything he owned and it finally caught up with him,” I said. “I guess desperation makes people do desperate things.”

“And he came to your father for help?” Erik asked. “Your father was an angel, but he’d never go for that.”

“Well, he almost did. He would have given Peter the money he asked for—I’m sure Peter made up some story to cover up his illegal activities—except that Lev begged him not to. Wanted Peter to earn his dough, not get a hand-out.”

“So when your father refused, Peter just killed him?”

I shrugged. “Who really knows? Best guess: They were in my father’s office upstairs discussing Peter’s request. When my father turned him down, they argued and Peter pushed him down the stairs—Lev says Peter had quite a temper when crossed. I suppose it could have been an accident. We’ll never know. But it’s obvious that Peter was there, and that he covered it up.”

“Peter just went off the deep end?” Erik asked. “Unbelievable.”

“Yeah.” It really was hard to fathom. How did he think he could possibly get away with killing Kassian? I’d thought about it a lot over the past couple weeks. I guess if you believed you could get away with stealing money from your clients, you believed you could get away with murder, too. Tough to suss out a psycho.

“He must’ve been quite pleased his father was trying to pin it on Kassian.”

I nodded. “Sure. Took the heat off him. Almost worked, too.”

Erik shook his head. “What about the diamonds?”

“Well, they would have been just a band-aid for Peter’s financial problems. He was in debt to the tune of about three million dollars.” I paused, wondering how things could have gotten so out of hand. “They turned up in one of Peter’s safe deposit boxes. Close to 300 stones.”

Erik let out a low whistle. “Not bad. Those are yours, my friend.”

I nodded. Ironically, Peter kept them in the same bank—Virginia Central—that my father had. In his box we’d found two more full velvet bags along with a sheaf of documentation. Each diamond was safely tucked into its own tiny numbered poly bag; the numbers corresponded to the data on GIA certificates, insurance papers, and old appraisal records that he’d taken from my father’s filing cabinets.

Turned out the insurance company—one that specialized in precious gems—wanted to update the policy and had asked my father for a more complete appraisal. That’s what got the whole thing rolling.

Erik shook his head. “But why give some back?” A damn good question.

“He must have wanted me to stop poking around. When he realized I didn’t know how many diamonds there were, he figured fifty would get me off his scent. He also figured I’d think it was Kassian who took them, then changed his mind and returned them.” I paused. Erik was still shaking his head. “Peter purposely jumbled the diamonds all together—without numbers or any identifying characteristics—hoping their lack of paperwork would make it more difficult for me to determine what had happened.” He’d been right about that.

Erik snorted. “Man,” he said, giving his head one last shake.

The diamonds were nice to have, but now that they were in my possession, it all seemed a bit anticlimactic. A lot of anxiety and anguish for a bunch of sparkling stones.

Erik cleared his throat and looked at me, a question on the tip of his tongue. But he kept staring.

“What?”

“What really happened between Lev and Peter? At the end? Did he kill him on purpose?” Erik asked.

The details reported in the paper were sketchy, and in the end, it had been declared a tragic accident. Like my father’s death had been. I said nothing to challenge that version of reality. “It was an accident. Lev slipped and Peter got impaled. Freaky, but that’s what happened.”

Erik eyed me, brow furrowed, trying to determine if I were telling the truth or not. I maintained a poker face. When he realized I wasn’t going to say anything else, he rose and glanced at his watch. Busy man. I got up, too. “Hey, what’s the deal with Brandon?” I asked. I’d heard a vague rumor about some trouble he’d gotten into.

A worried look clouded Erik’s face. He took a deep breath. “Terrible Teresywzki got his teeth into him and wouldn’t let go. Called on his buddies to investigate some of Brandon’s activities.”

The thought of Terrible T on my ass gave me shivers. So much for members of the Elite sticking up for one another. “What’s he guilty of?” Being an asshole wasn’t a crime.

“The rumor mill has it that Brandon will be indicted within the next few weeks on some kind of insider trading scandal. Friend of a friend kind of thing,” Erik said, looking as if he’d eaten some bad sushi.

“What?”

Erik shook his head, kept his lips pressed together.

“What’s wrong?”

He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them. Cocked his head to one side, contrite. “I’m clean in this, Josh. But sometimes investigators—in their zeal—paint things with a broad brush, start pointing fingers at everyone around the guilty party. I’ve made a few investments based on Brandon’s advice, but nothing illegal.” His eyes pleaded with me. “You’ve got to believe me.”

I told him I did. And left, shaking my head.

What money does to good people never ceases to amaze—and infuriate—me.

___

Four weeks later, Lev died.

A massive coronary, in his sleep, took him quickly. Jenn and the kids held up well, considering what they’d already been through. At the funeral, she told me she would be moving back to New York to be closer to her relatives, once she sold the house. She had trouble looking me in the eye, and I felt her pain.

No one sat shiva for Lev.

___

Eight weeks later, I piled Kassian, Aunt Shel, and Rachel into my new Beamer and we drove to the Hebrew Home. I dropped the ladies off at the Judaica shop—Aunt Shel had a hankering to haggle over half-price menorahs—while Kassian and I met with Carol in her office. She’d called, wanting to tell me something in person.

“Good to see you again, Josh,” she said. “And you too, Kassian.” She winked at him. I knew they saw each other frequently. “I’m glad you could come in today.”

“Sure,” I said.

“Last night at a board meeting, we voted to go ahead with the Russian Unit development.” She beamed at me. “Thanks to your father’s funding—and his vision—that unit will become a reality. Congratulations, Josh.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’d been too busy getting my life back on track over the past two months to pay much attention to the goings-on at the Hebrew Home.

Carol’s smile brightened even more. “I know Abe would be happy. It was the one thing he talked about most,” she said, then something twinkled in her eyes. “Besides you, of course.”

She got up from behind her desk. “I’ll be sure to invite you to the dedication. Both of you. I think we might call it The Handleman Home for Russian Jews. What do you think?”

I told her I thought it was nice. Very nice.

Kassian and I left Carol in her office. Side by side, we walked down the hall toward the gift shop to meet Rachel and Aunt Shel. There’d been something I’d been meaning to ask him, but it never seemed like the right place or the right time. I was tired of waiting. “Kassian?”

“Yes?”

“What’s the story with you and Stephen Wentworth?”

Kassian stopped short. “Nothing.”

Not, “Who’s Stephen Wentworth?” I tried to make my voice as casual as possible. “Then you know him?”

No answer.

“How about Suzanne Miller? Know her?”

Kassian’s features sharpened. “I believe so.”

“How?”

“How?” he asked.

“Yes. How do you know her?”

He studied my face, searching for something. Something that would tell him if his secret would be safe with me. All at once he relaxed, and I saw a side of Kassian I hadn’t yet seen. “She is my daughter.”

I’m sure my surprise was evident, although I tried to be cool. “Your daughter?” Inside, I was screaming.

“Yes. When I left my wife, my daughter was only a baby. I lost contact with them. I lived on the streets and was drinking and even if I could have found them, I would not have wanted them to see me like I was. Then, many years later, with the help of some very kind people, I got better. My life had been wasted, but I wanted to find my daughter. I spent many months searching in vain. I was very sad. So sad. Thought about killing …” His voice caught and he swallowed to clear his throat. “It was then I wrote to Abe. He sent me money to come down here. He promised he would help me.”

A couple passed us in the hall, and Kassian waited for them to move out of earshot before he continued. “Abe talked with me. Consoled me. Told me he would help find my daughter. Once he started, he found her in a matter of weeks. Said she’d changed her name, but she was my Mischa.” A proud look spread on Kassian’s face.

I knew Suzanne Miller wasn’t really Kassian’s daughter. And my father knew it, too. The white lie was simply my father’s attempt to bring peace to an old man who’d led a hard life. Another act of kindness from “Honest” Abe. “So my father introduced her to you?”

“Yes, at her office. But he warned me not to mention a word of it to anyone. Not a word, even to her. He said that she would not believe I was her father, and that she would think I was some kind of stalker or molester. A bad man. I promised him I would never tell. Anyone.” Kassian eyed me. “And now …”

I patted his shoulder. “It’s okay. I am his son, after all. He wouldn’t care if you told me. He’d probably be happy about it. But he is right. You must never tell anyone else, including Suzanne.”

Kassian nodded solemnly.

“And that’s why you were in the woods?”

His face turned crimson. “I only wanted to see her. And my grandchildren. You have seen them?” He smiled, rotten teeth and all. His eyes misted. “They are beautiful grandchildren, yes?”

“Yes they are, Kassian,” I said. “Yes they are.”

___

We caught up with Rachel and Aunt Shel outside the gift shop. Aunt Shel had a couple plastic bags in her hands, stuffed with menorahs and other Jewish tchotchkes. I’d probably see a few of them as gifts somewhere along the line.

I pulled Rachel aside. “Why don’t you take Kassian up to visit Nana now?” I’d been joking that she should try to fix her grandmother up with Kassian. She hadn’t thought it was too funny.

“Where are you going? You’re not ditching him with me, are you?” She asked, smiling as she said it.

“No. I want to show Aunt Shel something. We’ll be up in a few minutes.”

I watched Rachel and Kassian walk over to the elevator, realizing—not for the first time—how lucky I felt being with Rachel. We were getting along, as Aunt Shel would say, famously. Rachel had even invited me to a spring picnic for the faculty at her school—a sure sign that something special was happening. If only my father were around to meet her. I don’t believe he liked Dani much either.

Dani. I’d called her about a week ago to tell her I was filing for divorce and to see how she was doing. The conversation had been pleasantly devoid of any rancor. No caustic words. None of Dani’s neediness or bossiness or self-focused rants. Hearing her laugh reminded me of the good times we had. In fact, I almost remembered why I’d been attracted to her in the first place. Though drama still ruled her life—she’d gone back to Heath, then broke it off again—this time she seemed more resilient. More hopeful. More mature. Even talking about the finality of our divorce hadn’t spun her out. The idea of remaining friendly with her now didn’t seem out of the realm of possibility—as long as she stayed on the West Coast.

Across the lobby, the elevator arrived and Rachel gave me a little wave as she and Kassian boarded. After the elevator doors whooshed shut, I took Aunt Shel by the arm and guided her to the library. Stopped outside the entrance. “Look,” I said, pointing at the brass plaque.

She stared at it, tears welling up. “Your father would be so proud. Of this. Of you. He’d be kvelling, all right. In fact, I’m sure he’s doing that right now.” Her eyes rolled upward a fraction, then she winked at me.

I nodded and blinked back my own tears. Pulling the doors open, I held them while Aunt Shel shuffled in. “I want to show you something.”

There were a couple residents at one of the tables, a book open between them. The younger woman read something in Hebrew to the man, who leaned back with a faraway look in his eye and a faint smile on his lips. She kept on reading, strange words to me, comforting words to them.

“Over here.”

I led her to the windows. Pointed up. The stained-glass panels had been restored. I sold some of the diamonds and had to pay extra for the rush job, but it was worth it. The Star of David sparkled in the sunlight. Red, blue, white, pieced together like an iridescent jigsaw puzzle. Aunt Shel’s mouth parted slightly as she admired the beauty.

“This is what Dad commissioned. To make the library special. He wanted a little bit of himself to be preserved here. Through the art he adored.” I took one of Aunt Shel’s hands. “Pretty neat, huh?”

She nodded, unable to speak, tears running down her cheeks.

It was the best $84,000 I ever spent, not that I really had any choice.

After all, it was the Handleman Library.