Monday the Rabbi Took Off by Harry Kemelman Read Free Book Online Page B

major to another and from one college to another the way I change my shoes. And when they finish, they’re not prepared to do anything, or willing to. What’s he unhappy about?” he asked. “Something specific like a girl, or something general like the state of the world?”
    Laura nervously lit a cigarette. “I don’t see how you can be so flippant about it all when it’s your son who’s involved.”
    “My son!” he exploded. “I fathered him. I suppose, but I don’t know that I had anything to do with him afterward.”
    “Daniel Stedman, you know I consulted with you on every step of his career, every school he went to, every –”
    “All right, all right.” he said. “Let’s not get started on that again. What do you want me to do?”
    “Well,” she said, stubbing out the cigarette, “I think you could write him a strong letter, ordering him to stay until he finishes the year or you will cut his allowance.”
    “I see, I have to play the heavy.”
    “Discipline is a father’s duty.” she said primly.
    “And this will make him happy?”
    “At least it might keep him from doing something foolish.”
    “I’ll do better than that,” he said, getting up from the chair. “I’ll go and see him.”
    “But you can’t just pick yourself up and go halfway across the world.” Then she saw that he was smiling. “Oh, you were planning to go to Israel?”
    He nodded. “That’s where I’m doing the book. It’s a book on Israeli opinion.”
    “When are you going?”
    “Tomorrow. I’ve got a flight to Zurich by Swissair.”
    “Not El Al? They say it’s safer, that they’re more careful.”
    “It’s also a lot more crowded. And it’s a long trip, and I like to break it up. This gives me a stopover in Zurich.” he said, trying to keep his voice casual.
    “Zurich?” She shot him a quick glance. “You’re not involved in anything, are you?”
    “Involved?” He laughed. “How do you mean involved?”
    “I still worry about you. Dan.” she said simply.
    He shrugged his shoulders in a little gesture of annoyance. “Nothing to it. I go right on to Israel from there.”

Chapter Eight
    From her office on the fifth floor of the hospital, Gittel Schlossberg of the Social Service Department could see the rooftops of a considerable section of Tel Aviv, each with the black glass panels set at a forty-five-degree angle to catch the heat of the sun to supply warm water for the apartments below. A tall building blocked her view of the sea beyond, but she knew it was there, and sometimes she thought she caught the swish of the surf over the sounds of the traffic in the street below. She enjoyed the view from her window as she enjoyed driving to work through the narrow, crowded streets with their rows of houses in stained and crumbling stucco, not because it was a pretty view, but because it showed increase and growth.
    She had lived in the city most of her adult life and could remember when there was space and gardens between the houses, but she preferred it cramped and crowded, with every bit of spare land put to use and pushing toward ever-increasing suburbs. It meant that more and more people were coming, to settle and work and make the city more prosperous and strong. And as she read Miriam’s letter, teetering in her swivel chair, she daydreamed: Her niece was coming with her family; she was coming on a visit, but perhaps she could persuade her to remain.
    Some of her colleagues on the staff were inclined to fault Gittel Schlossberg for being unprofessional in her methods. Hers was a purely pragmatic approach. If the problem, for example, was to get a job for a client, she was not above using a little genteel blackmail on a prospective employer to achieve it. And since she herself did not profit from the transaction, her conscience was clear. At the national game of protectsia, or influence, she was a past master. Needless to say, little of this ever appeared in her case records, which were