Tuesday The Rabbi Saw Red by Harry Kemelman Read Free Book Online

off to her own quarters off the kitchen, he usually puttered around until the eleven o’clock newscast and then himself went to bed.
    Just before the fall term Macomber’s daughter Betty called from Reno to announce the glad tidings that her divorce had been granted and that she was taking the next plane out, he indulged in pleasant daydreams that now things would be different, he would now have someone to talk to at breakfast and dinner. Perhaps he might even play hookey some afternoon and sneak in a round of golf, they were both avid golfers.
    She would be his official hostess, and once again he could hold those purely social parties, not connected with business, that he had missed so much since his wife’s death. Of course Betty was still young, thirty-five, and after a while she would develop her own circle of friends, young people with interests different from his. But not for a while yet, she would want some peace and quiet after her unfortunate marriage.
    It did not work out that way, she arrived early in the evening, her plane had been delayed on the ground and then was locked into a holding pattern for almost an hour before it could land, the gaiety in her voice when she had called him from Reno was gone; she was tired and peevish.
    “That awful plane!” she exclaimed by way of greeting. “I thought I’d have time to lie down for a while, and now I barely have time to shower and change.”
    “You don’t have to change on my account, dear.” said her father. “Mrs. Childs has prepared a quiet little meal. I can’t tell you how I’ve been looking forward to the chance to talk and catch up on things.”
    She was contrite. “Oh, I am sorry; dad, but I’m due at the Sorensons’ for dinner, they’re having a few people over. It’s a kind of freedom party for me – you know, celebrating my divorce, and Gretchen said she had this fascinating man she wanted me to meet.”
    Nor did it change with time, he saw as little of her as when she had been married and living in the suburbs, she went out almost every night, and even when they had dinner together she always seemed rushed.
    “Look. Betty;” he remonstrated, “must you go out again tonight?”
    “Oh, I really have to. Dad. I promised.”
    “But you’ve been out every single night this week.”
    “Dad I’m thirty-five –”
    “I know that. I’m not trying to play the stem paterfamilias, but –”
    “You’ve been a dear. Dad, but you must understand that I have no intention of remaining single for the rest of my life. I mean to get married, and just because I’m thirty-five I can’t waste any time.”
    He was old-fashioned, and the bluntness with which she stated her position embarrassed him a little. “Well, naturally; I want you to get married. Betty. I realize I’m probably being selfish,” he went on. “but I rather hoped that we could have some evenings together, just the two of us. You know, the president of a college, like the president of anything, is a kind of lonely figure, he has to make all sorts of decisions, and almost anyone he turns to for advice, or just to talk out some problem, has an axe to grind.”
    She laughed. “Poor Dad, all right, tomorrow I’ll stay home and – Oh, no, tomorrow I can’t or Thursday either. Perhaps. Friday?”
    The weekend was out of the question, of course, because then she went upcountry to New Hampshire where her son. Billy, was at school.

Chapter Six
    Monday was registration day; classes began Tuesday; so Wednesday morning was the first session of Philosophy 268, Jewish Thought and Philosophy; Mon. & Wed, at 9:00, Fri, at 1:00: Admin. Building, Room 22; three credits.
    By a quarter to nine they began to drift in – the fresh-men checking the number on the door against the number they had copied down on their program cards, the upper-classmen gravitating to one corner.
    “Hey; Harvey boy!” A tall, willowy youth in yellow plaid slacks, crimson shirt, and a yellow silk kerchief fastened