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plate?”
    â€œIt’ll hold. There’s a service station up the road. They’ll put another bolt onto it.”
    When he told Lucy, she shook her head hopelessly. “It’s my fault, David. I shouldn’t have let you go. You’re not entitled to drive alone until you have a license, which you don’t have, but that cop looks at honest faces. You do have an honest face, sort of. Well, come let me show you.” She had scrubbed the little house clean. “Della Klein came by; otherwise I would have been marooned here. She took me shopping. Four miles to a proper grocery store and butcher — would you believe that? The girl’s dear. I don’t care if she looks at you the way she does. Anyway, she’s happily married.”
    Lucy had roasted a chicken for dinner that night, and with it she put out baked potatoes, string beans, salad, pickles. In the dining room, there was a Pembroke table as old as time and four rickety chairs.
    â€œWare chairs,” she explained.
    â€œHow do you know that?”
    â€œMillie Carter stopped by. That’s the parson’s wife. I’ve got to rethink my whole life in this crazy place, David. To me, the parson’s nose was always the turkey’s ass. Anyway, Ware chairs are old and important, and this Millie Carter’s a knockout. You’re going to flip over her; one of those tall, skinny blond types, short hair and smart as a whip. Nice. She brought home-baked bread and pie. She decided we were both sold into theological bondage before the age of reason, but we’re survivors. She’s got two kids, and he only makes twice what you do. And by the way, they heard about you doing the first service tonight, and they want to come and bring a few friends. I told them it was all right. It is, isn’t it?”
    â€œI don’t see why not,” David said. “But you know, I don’t have a real sermon. I’ve only made a few notes.”
    â€œYou’ll be great.”
    â€œHow do you know? You never heard me preach.”
    â€œI love you. That’s enough for me.”
    â€œI wish it were enough for me.”
    Someone was knocking at the front door, and when Lucy opened it, there was Mel Klein, fat, bald, perspiring, and wiping his face with a large handkerchief.
    â€œSit down. I’m just cutting Millie Carter’s pie. Carrot pie. I never heard of it before, but it’s delicious.”
    â€œI’ll have a piece of pie. Fine. I haven’t even eaten. Good Shabbas, Rabbi. First time. I feel real good about that, but on the other hand we have a large problem.”
    â€œCoffee?”
    â€œYes. Sure.”
    â€œWhat’s the problem?” David asked him.
    â€œI’ll give it to you quickly, because we have just under an hour to work it out. I offered my house because our living room is big, seventeen feet wide, thirty feet long. That’s pretty big for up here on the Ridge, where the old houses have small rooms. Well, we got ten dining room chairs, eight bridge chairs, some kitchen chairs, and the couches and stuff. I figured Joe and Jack could bring some more bridge chairs. We got fourteen families. Even with all the kids and if everyone turns up, that’s got to be less than sixty people. But look what happened. It’s the way the war winds up. The kids come out of the service, they get married, and they find a place up here in Connecticut, and most of them know which way is up, and they’re looking for a Reform synagogue. And there aren’t any — no closer than New Haven. So let me tell you what’s happening, Rabbi. Freddy Cohen, he’s got this mechanized garden thing, and he works over in Ridgefield and Wilton. He spread the good word, and he thinks we’ll have at least twenty from there — if they don’t spread the word. Four families in Redding and three in Brookfield. Could we say no to them?”
    â€œAbsolutely not,”