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something illicit was too repugnant to consider.
    “What was her social life like?” I asked, since the matter was on the table.
    “Well, she spent a lot of time with her family and she had a good friend from childhood that she saw a lot of.”
    “Did she date?”
    “I think so.”
    “Did you ever meet anyone she went out with?”
    “There was one man—what was his name? He used to visit her at her apartment and sometimes he came to my grandparents’. Mr., Mr.… If I think of the name, I’ll let you know.”
    “He was the only one?”
    “The only one I ever met, but I’m sure she went out.”
    “What about this old friend? Do you remember her at all?”
    “Oh yes. Her name was Shirley, Shirley Finster, I think. I used to see her a lot. Do you remember her, Melanie?”
    “I met her a couple of times. But only when I was a child. By the time I was in my teens, I don’t remember seeing her anymore.”
    “You know, you’re right. I wonder if anything happened or maybe Shirley just moved away. Maybe she got married and moved out of the city.”
    “Do you remember seeing her at Iris’s funeral?” I asked.
    “Mm. That’s a good question. And I don’t remember.”
    “Were you at the funeral?” I asked Mel.
    She shook her head. “Mom didn’t want me to come. She was afraid it would upset me. I stayed at school.”
    “It would have been too much for her,” Marilyn said. “Just living through that terrible night when Iris walked out was bad enough.”
    “Tell me about that night,” I said.
    “The seder,” she said reflectively, taking a deep breath. “It was as usual as every seder I’ve ever attended, which means a lot of things happened that were typical of my family and probably don’t happen in anyone else’s family.”
    “Like what?”
    “Like the usual squabbles about who would sit where. We never had enough room at the big table for everyone, so we put the children at a separate table in another room. Sometimes the older ones didn’t want to sit with the younger ones and sometimes the little ones wanted to be with their parents and we would play a kind of musical chairs until we had everything settled. Then there were always the latecomers and my father would get angry because we wanted to start on time, and I don’t think we ever started on time in my whole life.”
    “I remember your father looking at his watch at eight and saying he’d been promised an eight-o’clock start.”
    “See?” Marilyn said. “Nothing changes. And although I can’t really tell you what happened and what didn’t happen that night, I’m sure most of those things went on and Pop got angry because we were late and someone probably showed up fifteen minutes after we got started and made Pop angry all over again.”
    “Uncle Dave was late,” Mel said. “I remember. Grandpa was furious.”
    “Uncle Dave is always late. He’s never learned how to be on time in his life. And he never will.”
    “What about Iris?” I asked.
    “Oh, Iris was there early. She was helping Mom in the kitchen.”
    “Were you there when she arrived?”
    “I don’t think so,” Marilyn said. “I think she was probably there most of the afternoon and I came later.”
    “So you didn’t see her hang up her coat or put her pocketbook down.”
    “No. I’m sure she was there when I came.”
    “Do you remember what she was wearing?”
    “Not really. I think she had an apron on when I got there and I just didn’t notice later when she took it off. But I can tell you she always dressed well, and for a seder she would have worn something very nice, probably new. She was a beautiful woman, tiny, perfect figure; clothes looked like they were made for her.”
    “How did she act that night?”
    “The same. It’s hard to separate out that seder from all the others, but you can believe that after she disappeared, we all gave that night a lot of scrutiny, and I couldn’t remember anything that seemed different or unusual. I