Cohen shook his head stubbornly. "Even if he were no longer my patient, I couldn't do it. If you took him over,
Ed,” he challenged, "would you let me tell him he'd made a mistake on a prescription and someone had died from it?"
"No, but—"
"So what do you intend to do?" Muntz asked.
"I don't know. Just sweat it out, I guess."
Al Muntz leaned back in his chair and thrust his hands into his trouser pockets, he shook his head slowly in a kind of wonderment. "You know what, Dan? You’ve done it again."
"Done what?"
"Got yourself a patient that you're emotionally involved with."
But later, when he was alone with Kantrovitz, Muntz said. "You know, Ed, he's a damn fool but I can't help admiring Dan, here he is, taking a chance on wrecking his practice to avoid hurting one of his patients, maybe that's been his trouble all along, he believes all that stuff med school deans dish out at commencement."
"But look here, if you were in Dan's position, would you tell Aptaker?"
"Of course not." Muntz said, "but I wouldn't have let myself get in that position in the first place."
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Mrs. aptaker entered the rabbi's study and sat down gingerly, she looked about her at the walls lined with large leather-bound books, two of which were lying open on the desk.
"I hope I'm not interrupting your work,” she said.
The rabbi smiled. "Not at all, Mrs. aptaker." He motioned at the books on his desk. "This goes on all the time. It can wait, and how is Mr. aptaker?"
"All right, I guess."
"And your son? What do you hear from him?"
"Arnold? You know him? He's coming home. I called him when his father got sick, he said he'd come just as soon as he winds up things in Philadelphia. It could be a matter of months before my husband gets back on his feet, so Arnold has to make arrangements."
"Of course."
"Because even if we have to sell the store, we should have someone here from the family that knows about these things, about things in a drugstore."
"Maybe he'll decide to stay for good," the rabbi suggested.
She sighed. "I don't know, arnold didn't get along so good with his father, especially in the store, maybe like two women can't work in the same kitchen, so two men, a father and a son, they can't get along in the same business."
"And how are you managing?"
"Well, Ross— that's McLane, the other pharmacist, he's very cooperative, but he'd like me to get another pharmacist to help out. But then when Arnold comes, we wouldn't need him."
Rose Aptaker placed the cardboard folder she had brought with her on the desk and said, "These are the letters my husband said I should show you. I looked through them before coming here. I never saw them before. My husband, you understand, he didn't like to bother me with business matters, maybe he thought I might worry, there's a letter here that my husband wrote to your temple, a copy I mean, asking to renew his lease. It was sent out more than a month ago, and there was no answer until— until a couple of days ago, telling him he should ask Mr. Safferstein, that was the day my husband got his heart attack, Rabbi. Is that the way a temple should act? Not answer his letter and then finally send him a letter he should get a heart attack? That's religion?"
"I know nothing about it, Mrs. aptaker, but if you'll give me a chance to read it—"
"Sure, read. But I got to get back to the store." "If you could leave it with me—"
"Why not?" She rose to go and then changed her mind and sat down. "When I went to see my husband at the hospital this afternoon, he seemed to have a little more spirit, somehow, he was even a little excited. I think maybe it was because of your visit, something you may have said." She looked at him questioningly, and when he offered no comment, she went on, "So what I wanted to say, Rabbi, is that when you read over these letters and you see it's hopeless, it would be better if you didn't tell him right away. I mean it could wait a little while until he got stronger."
"I said nothing to your husband. Mrs. aptaker, only that I should like to see the correspondence he had on the lease. If he jumped to the conclusion that I could do something—"
"What difference does it make?" she demanded fiercely. "If he's kidding himself, at least he's getting stronger on it."
"But he'll have to face it sooner or later," the rabbi insisted.
"So better later than sooner." She made as if to rise and then thought better of it. "I don't know if you can understand what the store means to my husband. It's not just a living; it's like an institution to him, like a college or a bank. If he should sell it now, even at a good price, his whole life would be like a failure. Sure, we made a comfortable living, but if he sells the store, then he'll be balancing the accounts in his mind and he'll see that for all the time he spent there, he was working at clerk's wages. But if he can pass it on to Arnold, then it's in the family and it's still his and it doesn't make any difference how many hours a week he puts in. You know we got customers who moved to Florida ten and fifteen years ago and we still send them refills on their prescriptions."
"I think I understand. Mrs. aptaker." the rabbi said kindly-He accompanied her to the door just as Miriam, who had been out shopping, arrived home, he introduced the two women.
"I hope your husband is feeling better," said Miriam. Rose Aptaker shrugged her shoulders and smiled sadly.
Later, as Miriam went about preparing the evening meal, she asked, "Can you do something for them, David? She looked so unhappy."
Her husband, lounging in the kitchen doorway, shook his head. "I doubt it. Not being a member of the temple, aptaker has an exaggerated idea of the power and authority of a rabbi. I'm afraid he's caught in one of those situations, which probably happens quite often in business, where he suffers a sizable financial loss through nobody's fault, and yet..."
"What is it?"
"It's funny that Kaplan didn't mention receiving Aptaker's request for a renewal on his lease, he had it for some time. I'm sure he never raised the matter at any board meeting."
"It is curious. Can you make anything of it?"
"Well, at least I can call Kaplan and ask how it happened." The rabbi went to the phone. "He should be home about now."
"What can I do for you, Rabbi?" Kaplan asked jovially when the connection was made.
"I was talking to Marcus Aptaker, the druggist in the Goralsky Block. You may have heard that he's in the hospital now with a heart attack, he tells me that he wrote to the temple asking for a renewal of his lease. I wonder why you didn't mention it at any of the board meetings."
"Because it was a minor administrative matter, Rabbi. I didn't say anything for the same reason that I didn't mention the minor repair that I had made to the roof above the tailor shop. If I brought up for discussion every little item that came to my attention and that I acted on, we'd never finish."
"It was no minor matter to Aptaker, and I intend to bring it up at the meeting."
"Ah. Rabbi, you're sore because I put one over on you."
"You railroaded through the sale of the Goralsky Block. I'm going to move for reconsideration."
"What? Because I didn't happen to mention Aptaker's letter to the board?" Kaplan was incredulous.
"For that, and because it has always been the practice on important matters, especially where they involve large sums of money, to hold over the final vote on a motion for at least a week."
"You know, Rabbi, I never considered you a sore loser. You go right ahead and make a motion to reconsider, all that will happen will be that I'll beat you again."