"It seems to me." said Molly Mandell placidly, "the big mistake we made was in giving the rabbi a lifetime contract."
"We didn't give him a lifetime contract." said Roger Streitfuss. "We offered him one and he refused it, a couple of years back, I think it was, he's on a yearly basis. It was his own idea."
"That's right." said Maltzman. "It was the year he went to Israel, maybe thought he might want to go back there and didn't want to be bound by a long-term contract."
"So how do you work it?" asked Molly, interested. "Do you meet with him on the terms every year and then draw up a contract?"
"Oh no. His salary is just one item in the budget. When the board votes the budget, the secretary sends him a letter telling him his contract has been renewed for the year, and that's it."
"And what would happen if you wrote him and said it hadn't been renewed?" asked Allen Glick. "I'm just asking, you understand."
"Gosh. I don't know. I suppose he'd—I don't know what he'd do." said Maltzman.
"I bet he'd resign." said Roger Streitfiiss. "I know he's had trouble with other administrations, and he's fought for his job. But he's never actually had an official vote passed against him."
"You got a point there." said Allen Glick. "What else could he do but resign? Either that, or appeal to the board to reconsider, and he's too proud for that."
"With fifteen on the board, it only takes eight to vote the rabbi out." remarked Streitfuss and then added vehemently, "If the matter came up, I'd vote against him."
The others understood his feeling, they all knew about the rabbi's refusal to participate in a joint wedding ceremony with a Methodist minister when the Streitfuss girl had married a Gentile.
"And I would, too." Allen Glick said. "What about you, herb? You're on the board now. You've got a vote."
"Oh, Herb would go along." said Molly before her husband could answer for himself. "The way I see it is if we hopa to get equality for women in the service and make this a modern, up-to-date temple, we've got to get Rabbi Small out and get in a rabbi who'll push for it."
"So you've got three votes already," Streitfuss said. "All you need, Henry, is five more."
Maltzman's eyes gleamed, he rubbed his hands. "Yeah, I think we might be able to bring it off."
Smiles appeared on the faces of his guests.
"But we've got to be awfully careful about this." Maltzman went on. "It's got to be kept secret, because if the opposition gets wind of it—"
14
STANLEY DOBLE, THE JANITOR AT THE TEMPLE WAS NOT THE ideal employee. For one thing, he was unreliable, he had been known to interrupt a job of work, presumably to go for his lunch, and not return for several days because he had met someone who had suggested they drive up to Maine to bag a deer, also, he got drunk on occasion, although, in all fairness, usually on his own time. On the other hand, he was an accomplished handyman, who could do a skillful job of carpentry, repair the plumbing, maintain the heating and air-conditioning system and was knowledgeable about electricity. While frequently exasperated by his lapses, the temple authorities felt that on the whole, it was a fair trade-off. Moreover, since the wages they paid him were not high, they winked at the outside jobs he took on.
Most of the time, he was dressed in a dirty T-shirt and grease-stained overalls and sported a two days' growth of beard. When shaved, and with hair combed and wearing his 'good clothes,' however, he was quite presentable, although not tall, he was powerfully built and carried himself with a kind of truculence, as if to warn taller men that he was not to be trifled with. His face was coarse and fleshy, and his eyes small with the lids half-closed, as though he were peering at the sun, the nose was bulbous and a little askew at the tip, having been smashed once in a fight. But while not an attractive man, he was usually good-natured and friendly.
He was not wearing his good clothes when Martha Peterson bumped into him at the supermarket downtown, and there was a smudge of grease on his cheek, which was why she refused his invitation to "come and have a soda" at the drugstore. But when he asked for a date, she said. "Well, I'm free tonight."
His face fell. "Aw. Marty, today's Friday, they got a service at the temple tonight and I got to clean up afterward. I was thinking about tomorrow night."
Because she felt it was important for her to maintain her status as the arbitrary, even capricious, conferer of favors, she said loftily, "I'm sorry, but tonight is the only night I'm free."
And since the immediate was always more important to him than the responsibility of a later time, he said, "Okay, then. I guess I can make some arrangement at the temple. I'll pick you up at your place around seven."
"No, you pick me up at work."
"Why can't I pick you up at your place?"
"On account I don't want to go home by bus. I left my car to be serviced, so I won't have it to go home with."
"Aw, gee, Marty."
"What difference does it make to you?" she asked.
"Well, your boss, old man Jordon, him and me had a fight about some work I done for him, and I said I'd never set foot in his place again."
"You afraid of him?"
"Afraid? But where I said I wouldn't—"
"Well, if you can't. I guess there's other fish in the sea."
He looked at her calculatingly through slitted eyes. It occurred to him that in the light of the sacrifices he was making, she would feel obligated and make suitable recompense. "All right," he said decisively. "I'll pick you up at seven, but you be ready now, so when I ring tha bell—"
"I'll be ready."
15
LAWRENCE GORE LOOKED UP INQUIRINGLY AS MOLLY MANdell entered his office.
"I know you don't like me to bother you, but Mr. Jordon—"
"Was he in this morning?" he asked quickly. "Did he—er—try to annoy you again?"
She blushed. "No, he hasn't been in. But the report—"
He held up a finger. "Right, the Ellsworth Jordon quarterly report. It's due today. I haven't forgotten it, as a matter of fact. I spoke to him this morning." He tilted back in his swivel chair. "And he invited me for dinner tonight."
"So he can go over the report with you?"
"I suppose, and he's letting me have his Peter Archer soup tureen."
"So he finally decided to let you borrow it for the exhibition?"
"Oh, I think he was going to all along. It's just his way. But I called him this morning and told him I was taking the collection to the museum tonight and it was now or never. So he said okay, I could pick it up this evening and he invited me to dinner."
"How are you taking it in?" she asked curiously.
"In my beachwagon."
"You going alone?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"Because it's very valuable, isn't it?"
"It sure is."
"You ought to have someone with you. You could get into an accident and—"
"You're right. Molly, as usual." He thought for a minute. "I'll ask Billv. Have him come in, will you, Mollv." When the young man appeared, he said. "I'm taking tha Peter Archer silver into Boston, to the museum tonight. How would you like to come along and ride shotgun?"