Florence Adler Swims Forever(97)

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When they arrived back at the apartment, Joseph asked Anna to look after Gussie and led Isaac into the kitchen, where he’d spread out several pieces of paper, neatly typed.

“What’s this?”

“Everything we discussed last night.”

Isaac whistled. “You had a longer night than I did.”

“Aaron Wexler drew it up this morning.”

Isaac sat down in a kitchen chair, picked up one of the documents, and began to scan it. “You don’t trust me to stay gone?”

“I think, with something this sensitive, it’s better if we spell out the terms.”

Isaac tried to focus on the small type.

“The terms are the same,” said Joseph. “Aaron recommended we add something about divorce.”

“Divorce?” It hadn’t occurred to Isaac that he and Fannie would divorce.

“It just says that if Fannie ever wants one, you’ll grant it to her.”

“And if I want one?”

“Do you?”

“Not particularly. But for the sake of argument, let’s say I did.”

Joseph looked uncomfortable. Aaron must not have accounted for that in the contract. “If you asked for one and Fannie didn’t want to grant it, we’d all be in a rather awkward situation.”

“Because you’d have to show her this contract.”

“Well, yes,” said Joseph. “And because she hasn’t actually agreed to anything.”

“Relax, old man,” said Isaac, thumping Joseph on the shoulder. “I don’t want a divorce.”

Isaac read the document twice. The money added up, and his inheritance would be generous. He wasn’t to contact Fannie but he could write to Gussie twice a year. “It says here that you’re supplying my train ticket?”

“I got you a seat on the four o’clock. You can go all the way to Miami, or get off sooner.”

“Don’t even trust me to get out of town on my own?”

“I just thought it’d be easier.”

Isaac let out a sharp breath. “Nothing about this is easy.”

Joseph looked at Isaac, then at his hands. “I know.”

“Where’s a pen?” said Isaac. There were already two on the table but Joseph was so flustered, he handed Isaac a third one, from his breast pocket.

“Wait,” said Joseph.

“What for?”

“We need a witness,” he said, and called for Anna, who entered the room so quietly that she might as well have been a light fixture or a potted plant.

“So, I suppose Joseph has filled you in?” Isaac said when she sat down across from them at the kitchen table.

Anna looked embarrassed to be in the room. Joseph handed her a pen and she took it without looking either man in the eye. Isaac assumed that this deal of Joseph’s negated any assistance he might otherwise have offered her parents.

Isaac held the nib of his pen over the signature line and hesitated, briefly. Was this what he wanted? To leave and not come back? If he stayed, could he change? Become a better husband? A better father? A better son?

Joseph leaned forward, ever so slightly, in his chair. How badly his father-in-law wanted him gone. Isaac stared at the contract hard, until the words began to blur together. He suspected Fannie would be fine without him. Gussie, too. It was an awful lot of money. Isaac pushed every pure and decent thought he’d ever had from his head and signed.



* * *



Joseph instructed Isaac to wait outside the bank while he went in to make the withdrawal. The idea miffed Isaac initially. It wasn’t as if what they were doing was illegal. But what did Isaac really care? He set down the suitcase he’d carried from the apartment and removed his hat. When Joseph emerged, several minutes later, with a fat deposit envelope, he handed it to Isaac.

Isaac peeked inside at the stiff bills. “It’s all there,” said Joseph. “Just write when you’ve got an address where I can start sending the checks.”

Isaac slid the envelope into the interior pocket of his jacket and felt for the other envelope, unyielding against his rib cage. He pulled it out and handed it to Joseph. “This is for you. To give to Fannie.”

“You didn’t go see her?”

“I did. Last night, after you left the hospital.”

“I wondered.”

“I didn’t tell her I was leaving.”

“So, this letter—”

“Isn’t from me.”

Joseph looked confused.

“Open it if you’d like.”

Joseph slid his finger under the flap, which Isaac had intentionally left unsealed. He pulled out a single sheet of paper, unfolded it, and began to read.

“It’s from Florence?” Joseph asked, clearly startled.

“Fannie will think so.”

Joseph kept reading.

“Fannie and Florence fought. Just before Florence died,” said Isaac. “And Fannie’s spent the whole summer stewing about it. She wrote Florence an apology and asked me to deliver it but, of course, there was no one to give it to.”

“So, you forged a reply?”

“Of sorts. If you don’t give it to her, she’ll think Florence died angry with her.”