A spoon slid off a saucer and bounced under the large old freezer. She said, "Damn."
Dickstein got down on his knees and peered underneath.
"It's there forever, now," Suza said. '~Mat thing is too heavy to move."
Dickstein lifted one end of the freezer with his right hand and reached underneath it with his left. He lowered the end of the freezer, stood up and handed the spoon to Suza.
She stared at him. "What are you-Captain America? That thing is heavy."
"I work in the fields. How do you know about Captain America? He was the rage in my boyhood."
"Hes the rage now. 1he art in those comics is fantastic."
"Well, stone the crows," he said. "We had to read them in secret because they were trash. Now they're art. Quite right, too.91
She smiled. "Do you really work in the fields?" He looked Eke a clerk, not a field hand.
"Of course."
"A wine salesman who actually gets dirt under his fingernails in the vineyard. That's unusual."
"Not in Israel. Were a little ... obsessive, I suppose ... about the soil." *
Suza looked at her watch and was surprised to see how late it was. "Daddy should be home any minute. Youll eat with us, won't you? Im afraid Ws only a sandwich."
'qbat would be lovely."
She sliced a French loaf and began to make salad. Dickstein offered to wash lettuce, and she gave him an apron. After a while she caught him watching her again, smiling. "What are you thinking?"
"I was remembering something that would embarrass you," he said.
'Tell me anyway."
"I was here one evening, around six," he began. "Your mother was out. I had come to borrow a book from your,father. You were in your bath. Your father got a phone call from France, I can't remember why. While he was talking you began to cry. I went upstairs, took you out of the bath, dried you and put you into your nightdress. You must have been four or five years old."
Suza laughed. She had a sudden vision of Dickstein in a steamy bathroom, reaching down and effortlessly lifting her out of a hot bath full of soap bubbles. In the vision she was not a child but a grown woman with wet breasts and foam between her thighs, and his hands were strong and sure as he drew her against his chest. Then the kitchen door opened and her father came in and the dream vanished, leaving only a sense of intrigue and a trace of guilt.
Nat Dickstein thought Professor Ashford had aged wen. He was now bald except for a monkish fringe of white hair. He had put on a little weight and his movements were slower, but he still had the spark of intellectual curiosity in his eyes. Suza said, "A surprise guest, Daddy." Ashford looked at him and, without hesitation, said, "Young Dicksteinl Well, I'm blessedl My dear fellow." Dickstein shook his hand. ne grip was firm. "How are you, professorr, "In the Pink, dear boy, especially when my daughter's here to look after me. You remember Suza?" "Weve spent the morrung remmiscing," Dickstein said. "I see shes put you In an apron already. That's fast even for her. I've told her shell never get a husband this way. Take it off, dear boy, and come and have a drink." - With a rueful grin at Suza, Dickstein did as he was told and followed Ashford Into the drawingroom. "Sherryr Ashford asked. "'Ibank you, a small one." Dickstein suddenly remembered he was here for a purpose. He had to get information out of Ashford without the old.man realizing it. He-had been, as it were, off-duty, for a couple of hours, and now he had to turn his mind back to work. But softly, softly, he thought Ashford handed him a small glass of pale sherry. "Now tell me, what have you been up to all these years?" Dickstein sipped the sherry. It was very dry, the way they liked it at Oxford. He told the professor the story he had given to Hassan and to Suza, about finding export markets for Israeli wine. Ashford asked informed questions. Were Young People leaving the kibbutzim for the cities? Had time and Prosperity eroded the communalist ideas of the kibbutzaiks? Did European Jews mix and intermarry with African and Levantine Jews? Dickstein's answers were yes, no, and not much. Ashford courteously avoided the question of their opposing views on the political moralit~ of Israel, but nevertheless there was, underlying his detached inquiries about Israeli problems, a detectable trace of eagerness for bad news. Suza called them to the kitchen for lunch before Dickstein had an opportunity to ask his own questions. Her French sandwiches were vast and delicious. She had opened a bottle of red wine to go with them. Dickstein could see why Ashford had put on weight Over coffee Dickstein said, "I ran into a contemporary of mine a couple of weeks ago-in Luxembourg, of all places:' Ashford said, "Yasif Hassan?" "How did you knowT' "We've kept in touch. I know he lives In Luxembourg." "Have you seen him muchr' Dickstein asked, thinking: Softly, Softly. "Several times, over the years." Ashford paused. "It needs to be said, Dickstein, that the wars which have given You everything took everything away from him. His family lost all their money and went into a refugee camp. Res understandably bitter about Israel." 'Dickstein nodded. He was now almost certain that Hassan was in the game. "I had very little time with him-I was on my way to catch a plane. How is he otherwise?" Ashford frowned. "I find him a bit - . . distrait," he finished, unable to find the right English word. 'Sudden errands he has to run, canceled appointments, odd phone calls at all times, mysterious absences. Perhaps it's the behavior of a dispossessed aristocrat." "Perhaps," Dickstein said. In fact it was the typical behavior of an agent, and he was now one hundred percent sure that the meeting with Hassan had blown him. He said, "DO you see anyone else from my year?" "Only old Toby. He's on the Conservative Front Bench now." "Perfectf" Dickstein said delightedly. "He always did talk Me an opposition spokesman-pompous and defensive at the same time. I'm glad he's found his niche." Suza said, "More coffee, Nat?" "No, thank you." He stood up. "Ill help you clear away, then I must get back to London. I'm so glad I dropped in on you.