The Day the Rabbi Resigned by Harry Kemelman Read Free Book Online Page B

know just yet.
    Cyrus Merton was a slow and careful driver, and it took him almost an hour to drive the thirty miles or so to Barnard’s Crossing, even though traffic on the road was light. It was after three when they arrived at the house on the Point, too late to do anything except sit around the house, watch TV, and wait for supper.
    The next morning, shortly after breakfast, Victor in his golf clothes loaded his clubs into Peg’s roadster and the two set out for Breverton. The Point, a long fingerlike promontory extending into the harbor, was connected to the rest of the town by Abbott Road. Peg drove slowly, and Victor, anxious to get to the golf club, asked, “Do we have to crawl along like this?”
    â€œIt’s a populated area, speed limit twenty-five miles an hour,” she explained, “and it’s patrolled, but after about three miles we come to the state highway.”
    â€œAnd how far is it then from the Breverton Country Club?”
    â€œOh, about twenty miles. Once we’re on the state highway, we should be able to make it in about twenty-five minutes or half an hour.”
    â€œYour uncle said it was about half an hour from his house.”
    â€œOh. He was probably thinking of going by way of Pine Grove Road.”
    â€œSo why don’t we go that way?”
    â€œI don’t like to drive it. It’s the old road connecting the two towns. It goes back to colonial times, I suspect. It’s narrow and rutty and curves in and out between ledge and swamp, and there are trees on both sides so that you can’t see more than fifty feet ahead. We can take it back if you like.”
    â€œYeah, let’s plan on it.”
    â€œAll right.”
    A thought occurred to him. “Look, are there shops in Breverton? I was thinking you might care to go shopping while I play, and we could meet around noon for lunch.”
    â€œI thought I’d go around and watch you.”
    â€œIt’s apt to be a long walk,” he said doubtfully.
    â€œOh, they have these little carts, and we could rent one of them and ride around together.”
    â€œThey have electric carts, have they? Swell, then you can be my caddy.”
    â€œWhat’s a caddy do?”
    â€œNormally, he carries the clubs. But since we’ll be going around in a cart, all you’ll have to do is watch and see where my ball lands.”
    â€œI guess I can do that.”
    There were not many on the course, and he was able to finish the round shortly after noon. They repaired to the spacious dining room and he ordered a scotch and soda. He drank it while they studied the menu, and then when they gave their orders, he asked for another. Because he thought she looked askance, he explained, “The first one is customary after finishing a round of golf, and the one I just ordered is an appetizer for the meal to come.”
    They drove home by way of Pine Grove Road, and when they reached Abbott Road, he marveled at how little time it had taken. “Gosh, you’d think they’d fix that road up. It’s so much shorter.”
    â€œI suppose they don’t because there’s not too much traffic between the two towns, only those headed for the golf club would be apt to use it.”
    â€œThat Pine Grove Road looks as though it’s probably used as a lover’s lane,” he suggested.
    She colored slightly and said, “I suppose it is.”
    Several times on the golf course when no other players were in sight, and in the car as they drove along Pine Grove Road, he had thought to make a move, to put his arm around her shoulder and then perhaps accidentally let his fingertips rest lightly on her breast. Each time, however, he was able to overcome his impulse, fearful that she might take offense.
    As in the previous week, he was taken to the train Sunday to catch the three o’clock train to Boston, but on Cyrus Merton’s suggestion, he left his bag and golf clubs