Saturday afternoon, Hana parked down the street from the townhome where Ben and Sadie lived. She and Leon passed four minivans alongside the sidewalk. Delayed by work that had forced her to go into the office, she was forty-five minutes late for the party. One of the workers at the day care center had been teaching Leon how to walk on a leash, and Hana was impressed by the dog’s developing discipline.
“Trust me,” Ben said when Hana called to ask permission to bring Leon. “A puppy will not add much to the chaos caused by a houseful of six- and seven-year-old girls. We have a small fenced-in backyard where your dog can take refuge from the mob if it gets to be too much for him.”
Birthday balloons decorated the front porch of the townhome. A woman who looked to be in her sixties with beautiful white hair opened the door. Hana immediately recognized her as Gloria’s mother. The facial resemblance between grandmother, daughter, and granddaughter was unmistakable. Hana could hear high-pitched squeals inside the house.
“I’m Florence Dershowitz, one of Sadie’s grandmothers,” the woman said with a warm smile. “You must be Ms. Abboud.”
“Hana, please.”
Leon’s manners disappeared at the sounds and smells coming from inside the house. He yelped and strained on the leash.
“And this is Leon,” Hana added, jerking the leash backward. “He wants to join the party.”
Hana followed Mrs. Dershowitz through a small foyer into a large living room-dining room combination. The furniture had been pushed against the walls to clear space for the party. A large banner proclaimed, “Happy Birthday, Sadie!” at one end of the room. Hana placed her present, an outfit for the doll Fabia, on a table covered with gifts.
The girls were playing a relay game in which they had to grab a balloon, run across the room to a chair, and pop the balloon by sitting down on it. There were two lines of girls. Sadie was next in line to pop a balloon. One of her friends tagged Sadie’s hand. When Sadie turned around to sit in the chair, she saw Hana and hesitated.
“Pop the balloon, Sadie!” Hana called out.
Several adults who hadn’t noticed Hana’s entrance turned and saw her. The prolonged looks she received made her slightly uncomfortable. Ben, carrying Fabia in one hand, came out of the kitchen.
“Did you receive my text about being late?” Hana asked.
“Yes, and I told Sadie so she wouldn’t be anxious about it.”
“What are you doing with Fabia?”
“Babysitting,” Ben said, handing the doll to Hana and turning back to the kitchen. “I need to put the candles on the cake.”
Hana could tell that the doll had been receiving a lot of attention. Her clothes were disheveled, her hair matted. A new outfit would be the perfect remedy.
“Sadie and Fabia are inseparable,” Mrs. Dershowitz said after Ben left. “She told me you have a niece with that name.”
“Actually, Fabia is a cousin,” Hana replied. “We spent a lot of time together when we were growing up.”
Sadie’s balloon popped, and she scampered back to her team.
“Sadie looks a lot like you,” Hana said to Mrs. Dershowitz.
“And has her mother’s personality.”
After the final balloon popped, Sadie left her group and ran over to Hana and Leon. She knelt down so the puppy could lick her face. Hana started to pull the dog away.
“It’s okay,” Mrs. Dershowitz said. “To hear her laugh like that is worth a few dog germs.”
“Can you let him go so we can play with him?” Sadie begged.
Hana unhooked the leash, and within seconds the puppy was surrounded by little girls. Leon wiggled with delight at the sensory overload of multiple hands on his fur. Ben reappeared with a large rectangular birthday cake.
Soon the partygoers crowded around in a tight circle and Sadie blew out the candles. Hana ended up standing next to a woman who looked to be about her own age. After the candles were out, the woman turned to Hana.
“I’m Marissa Cohen. Ben is my younger brother.”
Hana introduced herself.
“You’re the new lawyer representing Ben in his lawsuit, right?”
“Yes.”
Ben began cutting small pieces of cake for the girls.
“Do you have experience suing terrorists?” Marissa asked.
Hana briefly explained her role in international business law. Even though Marissa was Ben’s sister, she had to be careful not to violate attorney-client confidentiality.
“If that’s your area of expertise, why get involved in a lawsuit about Gloria’s murder?”
“The senior partners at the firm asked me to consider it, and I agreed to help.”
At that moment, Hana saw a little girl let Leon lick icing from her fingers. “I’d better not let my puppy eat too much cake,” Hana said.
She picked up Leon and took him into the kitchen. Ben was pouring punch into little pink cups.
“Is the garden still available for Leon?” she asked.
“Through that door,” Ben said, pointing. “It’s totally fenced in.”
Hana deposited Leon on the green grass. The flower beds were neglected and filled with weedy interlopers. When she returned to the kitchen, Marissa was talking to Ben. She walked away when she saw Hana.
“I think your sister is suspicious of me,” Hana said in a soft voice. “Is it personal or related to the lawsuit?”
“Maybe both,” Ben said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “I’m sure I’ll find out before she leaves for Cincinnati in the morning. Marissa has never been shy about sharing her opinions.”
Over the next hour Hana met several mothers of the girls invited to the party. They didn’t try to hide their curiosity about whether Hana and Ben’s relationship had crossed the line from professional to personal. Hana tried to squelch speculation by emphasizing her interest in Sadie, but it didn’t work. The look on the women’s faces said, What better way to get to a widower than through his little girl?
Sadie’s grandfather came over to Hana. Mr. Dershowitz was a tall, gray-haired man with wire-frame glasses. He told Hana about his conversation with Sadie at the doll store. “From the beginning you made quite an impression on her,” the older man said.
Hana was feeling a bit on the defensive following her encounters with some of the women at the party. “Do you approve?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mr. Dershowitz said, looking directly into Hana’s eyes. “Because I believe you’re playing a role in Sadie’s life beyond representing Ben in the lawsuit.”
Mr. Dershowitz reminded Hana of a wise, kind rabbi.
“Do you know what that role might be?” she asked.
Hana knew her words sounded formal, but she didn’t know another way to phrase the question.
“That’s up to Hashem,” Mr. Dershowitz said and looked upward. “But his light shines in you. Both my wife and I can see it in your eyes.”
“Thank you,” Hana said gratefully. “That’s one of the nicest compliments I’ve ever received.”
Hana glanced over at Mrs. Dershowitz, who was playing with Sadie and her friends.
“Time doesn’t heal wounds,” the older man continued.
“No, it doesn’t,” Hana agreed. “There was a saying in our house that God appoints angels whose job is to change scars from frowns into smiles. The deeper meaning is that this occurs from the inside out, not the outside in.”
“Tell it to me.”
“Do you speak Arabic?” Hana asked in surprise.
Mr. Dershowitz shook his head. “No, but I’d still like to hear the sound of the words.”
Hana repeated the proverb that contained alliteration in Arabic, making it sound like a poem.
“That’s beautiful,” Mr. Dershowitz said when she finished. “The doctors say that when she’s a teenager Sadie can have surgery, which will make the scar on her face barely visible. I hope I get a chance to see that, but even more I want to see your proverb become a reality for her. We’re all trying to do our part, but we welcome reinforcements.”
Mr. Dershowitz stepped away. A few girls began to leave, and Hana knew it was time for her to do so, too. She went over to Sadie to tell her good-bye.
“Thanks for coming,” Sadie said, giving her a hug. “I love the new dress for Fabia.”
Hana went to the backyard to retrieve Leon. The dog’s paws were muddy.
“Uh-oh,” Ben said when he saw him. “The sprinkler system is broken, and Leon found the leak.”
Ben washed the dog’s paws in the sink. Another mother peeked in to say good-bye and saw Hana and Ben standing side by side. Ben handed Hana a dish towel to dry Leon’s damp feet. “There, that should work,” Ben said.
He handed Leon to Hana. “Go out that way if you like,” he said, pointing to another exit from the kitchen.
“Okay, thanks again for letting me come.”
The door led to a short hallway that connected the foyer with the bedrooms. Hana could see into the master bedroom. A picture of Gloria and Ben from their wedding rested on a tall chest of drawers. Hana couldn’t keep an image from the folder at the Hurva Square police station from flashing through her mind. Needing a moment of happiness and hope to balance the brutality of pain and death, she spent a few extra seconds staring at the wedding photo.
Hana and Daud spent longer on Skype than usual and Hana arrived late at the office on Monday morning. Janet was already at her workstation.
“Did you go to the birthday party?” Janet asked as soon as Hana approached the secretary’s desk.
“Yes, it was typical of birthday parties for seven-year-old girls.”
“Not when you showed up,” Janet said skeptically. “Any moms of the other kids around?”
“Yes, and they wanted to know about me and Ben. I guess I’m going to have to get used to that if I spend time with Sadie.”
“Yeah, and I bet there was a lot more conversation among them after the party ended.”
In her office, Hana translated and distributed Daud’s latest report to Mr. Lowenstein, Jakob, and Ben. Posing as a job recruiter for a plastics factory, the investigator had made a trip to Deir Dibwan. He listed the names of the people he’d talked to. There were several Zadans. Nobody had much to say about Tawfik except that he spent most of his time away from town. Not surprisingly, Abdul and Tawfik were considered local heroes for taking the fight to the Jews.
After she sent the report, the receptionist buzzed her.
“Mr. Bart Kendall would like to speak to you.”
Emily picked up Jakob to take him to work. They’d developed a comfortable working relationship. He handed her a cup of coffee.
“I need to stop by my bank to deposit a check,” he said. “The insurance company paid me for the loss of my car.”
“Okay. How are you feeling?”
“I had a bad headache last night, but I’m feeling better this morning.”
Emily navigated her way through a stream of traffic toward the bank. Jakob noticed that no music was playing.
“Why the silence?” he asked.
“After seeing the explosive device planted on your car, I wanted to know more about your mugging at Butch Watson’s apartment. The cop in me rose up and so I checked you out, partly because of concern for my own safety.”
“I get it, but I’ve also seen your gun.”
“True,” Emily said and smiled. “I also read the notes on the handmade Islamic prayer beads you found at the scene.”
“You know about the prayer beads?” Jakob asked incredulously.
“Yes, and from what I’ve learned, I’m not going to hang a set from my rearview mirror. Anyway, I wanted to let you know what I did.”
They stopped so Jakob could deposit the check at an ATM outside his bank.
When he returned to the car and had snapped his seat belt, Emily turned and looked directly into his eyes. “I want you to know that I’m impressed by your courage. You’re different from most lawyers I’ve been around.”
“Thanks,” Jakob replied. “And you’re different from any Uber driver I’ve ever met.”
“In a good way?” Emily smiled.
“In every way,” Jakob answered. “But if you want to hear about courage, I should tell you about my father.”
During the rest of the ride to the office, Jakob described some of the persecution suffered by his father in the former Soviet Union. Emily listened attentively.
“I’d like to meet him,” she said when he finished. “He sounds amazing.”
“Next time my parents are in Atlanta, we’ll get together. You and my mother can talk about the best brand of violas.”