Tuesday
Rachel had the afternoon off and came to the house to do her laundry. It just happened to be the day our neighborhood diner serves vegetable soup. This is no ordinary vegetable soup; people from all over the North Shore flock to the place to fill up. We’d been going since Barry and I bought the house more than twenty years earlier. I’m still not sure why it’s so good, but I’ve narrowed it down to the broth. I’ve tried to duplicate it at home more than once, but I’ve never been able to match it, and the owners, a brother and sister from Greece, won’t say a word. They know a good thing when they have it.
Chicago was on the cusp of spring. Early March is a month of hope even though the weather is still lousy. The gradual return of longer daylight hours tends to dull the sharp edge of the Hawk’s claws. Rachel stayed home, but I was under strict orders to bring back a quart of soup for her to take downtown.
I picked up Dad and we drove to the diner. Once we were inside and seated, he rubbed his palms back and forth against each other. “Hubba, hubba,” he said. Whenever he does that, I know he’s in a good mood. “Do you realize this spring is gonna be the ninety-fourth one I’ve seen?”
“I do. Should we plan something special for your birthday?” His birthday was in October, but when you’re ninety-four, who cares when you celebrate?
“Lemme see. I can’t play golf anymore, the arthritis has crippled my hands, and I can’t sit on an airplane for more than an hour. What does that leave?”
“You still have every brain cell you were born with. And you play a mean game of poker.” I thought about it. “Think you could make it to Vegas? It’s only a two-hour flight.”
He shook his head. “No Vegas. But one of those casino boats—now, that’s a different kettle of fish.”
“Consider it done.” I picked up the large laminated menu, which was a useless exercise, since I always order the same thing.
“What’s going on with you? You find out who bombed your friend’s office? Everything okay at home? I’ve been worried.”
“We’re working on it. It seems as if—”
I stopped when the waitress approached with her pad. This was the same waitress who used to bring over a high chair for Rachel when she was a baby. Clearly, the Greek owners treated their staff well.
“Hi, Jen.”
“Hiya, Ellie. Lemme guess. Two vegetable soups, a Greek salad chopped, and a western omelet for the gentleman.”
“Pretty good. Plus a quart of soup to take home.”
“For your daughter.”
I spread my hands. “You’ve got our number.”
“You’re predictable.”
“That bad? Next time I’ll order something shocking.”
She eyed me over her pad. “It’ll take more than a chicken salad sandwich to shock me.”
I sat back. “How did you know that’s what I was thinking?”
She tapped her forehead and headed into the kitchen.
I snuck a look out the window. “I should start seeing Fouad soon.” Fouad was the man who helped me take care of my garden and my spirit. “I’m sure I saw shoots of daffodils in the front.”
My father nodded.
“You and he never really bonded until he rescued me up in Lake Forest.” Fouad had shot a man seconds before the man killed me.
“There’s a reason for that.”
“Dad, he saved my life.”
“I know. And I will be forever in his debt. Even though he’s Muslim.”
I tilted my head. “Seriously? Aren’t you too old for intolerance?”
“It’s not Fouad. He’s a decent man. A good man. Like I said, I will always be grateful to him.”
“You realize, of course, that’s what they say, or used to say, about Jews? You know, the ‘one of my closest friends is Jewish’ cliché? When you talk about Fouad that way, you’re no better than they are.”
He spread his hands. “If I was fifty years younger, sweetheart, I’d argue with you. But now, as I approach my ninety-fifth year, I’ll just say you can’t teach an old Jew new tricks. Our people have been at odds with Muslims for centuries. And these days their voices are louder. And more dangerous. You can’t deny it. Hell, you were in the middle of it yourself.”
He was right. I thought back to the time I met LeJeune. It had developed into a situation that involved radical Islam. “You can’t hold that against Fouad.”
“Did I say I did?”
“No, just all the other Muslims in the world.”
Our soup arrived. I decided to leave the conversation where it was.