"Sixty-five years it took me to get to see the Holy Land, and now I should die on my way to the airport?" I said, as Judith's car lurched into the lane for the Los Angeles International Terminal. Like a rerun of that ride in Hitchcock's Suspicion it was! I wanted to go to the Israel, not through Judith's windshield into blood-spattered death. Reruns I could stay home and watch. I clutched the dashboard of my daughter-in-law's Toyota and hung on.

My heart pounded as she screeched the car to a stop and jerked it into a parking space where I couldn't have fit a goose, a starved goose! I tried to catch my breath which, God-willing it went in the right direction, had gone to Israel ahead of me. Me? I felt lucky to have made it to the airport alive.

A voice boomed out of the loud speaker above the door. "The white zone is for loading and unloading only."

I looked at the gleaming white curb. "Judith, we can't park. Here is for loading only."

My daughter-in-law gave me a look. "Frances, we are unloading!" She lunged from the car and caught a nail against the steering wheel. Back into the car she collapsed, wincing like my late husband, Morris, may he rest in peace, the one time in our courtship I mentioned I would, maybe, stay in acting, keep the stage as my profession.

Judith dug around in her bag for an emery board, then attacked her injured nail. Nail? Talons she had. How girls today could work with nails that long. . .but with my Larry to provide, who needed to work?

Judith sawed away. Directly on my nerves she was filing. I looked over at the many flags flying in front of the International Terminal like the hands of the relatives waving me to the car. Go. Come back. Stay. Now, months later, I know it was the "stay" I should have listened. But who knew?

An omen? God forbid. "Maybe I should go back home," I said.

Judith shook her head and dropped the file back into her leather clutch. "Look, Frances, you're our last hope. If Susan's grandmother can't get her to go back to school for the summer session. . ."

I shuddered. My vacation, my first trip abroad, and she wanted me to be the villain with my granddaughter. "Judith, it's June. Let her enjoy Europe. She's with Adrienne's parents. Them you know: responsible. All Europe is an education. School she'll get back to in the fall with the rest."

Judith glared. "Lawrence and I paid for a special summer session so Susan could improve her dressage."

I felt my heart sink into my shoes. "Kids today don't get enough of that on dates?" I gasped. "They need classes in how to rub on another human body?"

Dressage, Mother Zindel, not massage!" Judith corrected. "We thought she should improve her horsemanship."

"Oh," I said. From such a correction I could get frostbite. So my hearing isn't what it used to be. So neither is Judith's disposition. Sweet she was, at first. Like butter wouldn't melt. Now everything is an effort. Ever since my Morris, and his open wallet, passed on.

"Horsemanship?" I said. "Science lessons, she would flee maybe, math, for sure she is running, but no granddaughter of mine would leave from a summer with a horse!" I glared at my daughter-in-law. Had my granddaughter not looked like my own image when I was her age, I would have asked Judith was she sure Susan was a blood relative of mine.

"Anyway, after you've taken care of Susan," --she pushed on, my daughter-in-law the bulldozer, outlining my itinerary-- "you'll take a tour. Maybe you'll plant a tree for Lawrence's father."

So, it's "Lawrence's father" now! Not: Morris, not: your husband, not: my dear father-in-law who helped us buy our first house, may he rest in peace. Just: "Lawrence's father." So distant. Where was respect these days? How could she expect her daughter to have learned from such an example? I shook my head.

"A tree I can plant by calling up the Jewish National Fund. They do the digging, the JNF; get their hands dirty, lift the tree in place. Me, I lift the phone." A lot like you calling Saks, I thought, climbing from the car.

I winced at the catch and click in my knees. My arthritis. I took a few small steps so they should loosen. Always, on the morning after a tennis match, they would be a little sore. Only lately, it was a little more sore. I had played a goodbye-set with my best friend, Sadie, yesterday afternoon.

Over the roof of the Toyota, my daughter-in-law stared at me like she'd been sucking lemons. "Mother Zindel!"

I shrugged. With an exaggerated sigh--as if she listened or cared--I began to help her with the luggage from the back of the car. I checked my everything bag: my passport, my ticket, bifocals; the sandwich and an extra bagel, just in case; my bright blue pancake hat and the spare extra-long hatpin, also just in case; my crocheting, my knitting needles. I was ready.

*How Morris had always teased me about my big tote bags. "With all that you'd be ready for Kingdom Come, Fanny." My answer had always been. "Better safe than sorry, Morrie."

Suddenly, a commotion. I looked up to see two men, one in uniform, grab for an oily fellow in a schmaltzy suit. They pulled guns and took the briefcase he was carrying. The one in the uniform yanked out a pair of handcuffs and bent the man's arms up behind him, just like in the movies.

People all around us drew back, stared, and asked each other what was going on. A few, like one man--a tall drink of water he was--just hurried away from the scene.

"Judith, look!" I said.

Wrestling the heavy suitcase from the trunk, Judith swung around with it just as the drink of water rushed by so close that he nearly knocked the bag from her hands. His head, barely covered in bright carroty hair, almost nodded an apology at her before he rushed away.

Muttering something under her breath I was sure I wouldn't want to hear, my daughter-in-law shook her fist at him. He was already through the electric doors. "What do you think happened, Judith?"

"It's none of our business, Frances." Judith hefted the suitcase and then stared into my everything bag with that sour look. "Let's go."

Maybe she might have been a better person if she'd taken up handiwork. Who knew? Money, Judith knew was to spend, but from kosher and cooking, she could care less. Better Lawrence could have done with Mrs. Pinchus' only daughter--Orthodox, everything kosher--but who listens to a mother? So, Judith's house I don't go for Passover.

I shrugged my everything bag onto my shoulder, smoothed my floral print dress and adjusted my black hat with the feather. Neiman Marcus maybe it wasn't, but having modeled for Crawford's Department Store on Chicago's west side, I knew what looked good. For sixty-five, gray hair or not, I wasn't in bad shape, if I did say so myself, and turned out. Nice.

That's what twenty years of tennis three times a week had done for me. What I had done for it was win the senior's tournament at my club five years in a row. Now it looked like I might never compete again. What with my arthritis flare-up cutting short my time on the courts, I was counting on the trip to lift my spirits. Not that much would make up for my having to let Ms. Amanda-smarty--pants-Klarner win my trophy this year. Such a hot-shot she thought she was. Sadie and the others from our lunch bunch had been counting on me to wipe up the court with her. I tried not to think of her smug expression.

We began walking through the terminal. Judith looked again at my everything bag with the green aluminum knitting needles and blue Angora wool poking out the top.

"Since when do you knit, Frances?"

I smiled. "I don't. I crochet." I paused and stared at her. "But knitting could come in handy." I grabbed one of the needles from the yarn and jabbed it out in front of me. "Terrorists!" I said. Errol Flynn I wasn't, but I could take care of myself. "It's not the weapon, it's the 'element of surprise,'" I said, quoting Sadie's self-defense teacher from the Senior Citizens Group at the park. "And if that doesn't work. . ." I drew her attention to the large faux pearl on the end of my extra-long hatpin.

Judith gave me a strange look. "Yes, Mother Zindel. It will give you 'the element of surprise.'" Then she added: "But meeting terrorists is a chance in a million. World Airways has terrific security."

"Talk. For talk you can't even get a good cup of coffee anymore." I shifted my everything bag back into position, handles over my shoulder, bag clamped firmly under my arm. I felt inclined to march a bit as I followed my daughter-in-law to the check-in area.

The line was longer than we'd expected. "Go on home, Judith, dear. I can manage." Actually, I was afraid Judith might get a ticket for parking in the white. And who would pay? "I told Lawrence I'd see you safely onto the plane and I intend to do just that." She looked over her shoulder toward the entrance. "But maybe I better move the car if it's going to take awhile."

"Good idea." I patted her hand. Too late I remembered she hated that sort of thing. I shoved my suitcase along with the toe of my pump as the line inched forward.

(scene break)

Nearly a half-hour later, I'd almost reached the front. Judith had come back. Behind us, the line snaked on.

Just as we took the last step forward, Judith, holding my ticket out to the agent, was pushed roughly aside by a tall, pale young man. Anemia, I thought, is no excuse to be rude. His glasses, half-frames only, bounced as they dangled from the string around his neck. A professor, maybe, or a scientist? All of a sudden I knew him: the drink of water who'd knocked into Judith during the arrest.

"Excuse me," he said, belatedly, stepping in front of us without waiting for a reply.

"You're excused, young man," I said, elbowing myself back in front of him. "But the end of the line is that way." I gave him my most assertive point. Five-five only, I may have been now, instead of the five-seven of my youth, so life wears you down; it shouldn't mean people take advantage.

"Look, I have to get on this flight." He wrung his hands, a Talmudic scholar worrying over an answer. But Jewish he wasn't. As one of those hands twisted in the other, a gold ring with a cross on it winked between the freckles and skin so white it was almost blue, like that skinny milk. That kind they take everything out of.

My face he couldn't look in. A conscience he had at least. That was something.

"We all want to be on this flight." I glanced up at him. It was a long way to his face. "Slow down, you'll live longer. You were rushing outside earlier, too. You nearly knocked my suitcase away from my daughter-in-law. There's plenty of room on the plane, I'm sure." I looked at the clerk behind the counter for support.

The girl punched at her computer keys. "Well. . ." She tapped the keys some more and shook her head. "We're booked solid." She made a sympathetic face at Mr. In-A-Hurry.

He was jittering like a fish on a hook. "Can't you at least give him a standby seat?" I asked, hoping that once he was settled, he would stop making me meshuge. Crazy, Judith had already made me.

The girl tapped keys and didn't say anything. "Well?" I pushed hard against the desk and narrowed my eyes at her, a Clint Eastwood look, if ever there was one.

She noticed.

"I suppose I could." She looked at him. "Your name, sir?"

He squirmed like my Lawrence when he knew he deserved a spanking. With a look at the line lengthening behind us, he gave her his name: "Paul Bailey." Then he added: "Doctor Paul Bailey." I gave Judith a nod which she didn't see, much less understand. A doctor, I could tell. Why was this flight so important to him? And why hadn't a smart man like a doctor made a reservation like the rest of us?

I should be ashamed; my own business I should be minding, as even my son would have said.

"I must get on this flight." He twisted his hands together some more. Oy, a real Lady Macbeth, this one.

"You'll be paged as soon as we know for certain." The counter girl smiled again. Doctor Bailey started to turn toward the metal detectors, then froze. He glanced to the left. "I'll be in there," he said, pointing, and went straight from the detectors and my company, through the door to the VIP lounge.

I looked over my shoulder at the metal detectors; nothing there to make him freeze. A handsome, dark-haired man ducked his head behind his newspaper. A movie star, maybe? He looked like Omar Sharif, an Arab, I guessed. He wore gleaming black-and-white spectator shoes, and a black suit with pants you could cut yourself on the crease. Shoes like Fred Astaire, like I hadn't seen in years.

Something bumped my purse. I grabbed for my extra long hat pin, my fingers on the faux pearl. Then I saw, again it was someone pushing in ahead of me while I stood wondering about Mr. Spectator Shoes. Judith sighed and shook her head.

Fanny, I reminded myself, if you do anything extra after you take care of Susan, maybe, while you're enjoying yourself, you'll do a little checking about Albert. Your brother maybe you should find out about, not everyone else's business.

My memory of Albert was like a pain from my arthritis: sharp, like a serpent's tooth; only here, no one was grateful or ungrateful.

In 1936, when I was only ten, my brother left home to join a kibbutz in Palestine. Much later, we heard that he had joined in the Israeli War for Independence. Then things changed for our family. Money came every month and at first my father was pleased. Times were bad and my father welcomed the money Albert sent. Then a letter came saying Albert had died. I was devastated. I had loved him and missed him.

Instead of mourning Albert, my father tore up the letter and no one ever mentioned his name in our house again. I learned there had been rumors that the money he sent, the money that built our family business, was covered with the blood of our own people, a betrayal to the British of our cause. If so, my brother was a traitor!.

I prayed to my dear Morris, he should have lived to help me with this. "When we move to Israel, Fanny," he used to say. "Then we'll see if it's a disgrace Albert brought on your family."

"When we move is too late, already, for finding a shandeh," was always my answer. By then we could have been the disgrace of our new neighborhood. Morris didn't understand. It wasn't his brother. It was a brother-in-law he never knew.

Well, forty-four years was a long time for a brother's picture to lie in the bottom of a trunk wrapped in black. My sister, Esther, didn't agree. When we unpacked Mama's trunk, she hadn't wanted me to unwrap the photograph. Esther, ever the practical one, had sharper memories of the pain Albert had caused our father. Always Daddy's favorite, she still stuck by his wishes. Like the grave she was, silent on the matter. So now, in Israel, maybe I would find out for myself.

I shifted my everything bag to my other shoulder. Behind me in line was a beady-eyed, balding man, not two back. Watching me he was, and a date he didn't want. And if he did want, he wouldn't get.

I felt for the cold metal of my knitting needles and thought of terrorists. Neither Baldy nor Spectators would look me in the eye. Then I realized, it wasn't me they were watching. With my eyes, I followed to where they looked. The door to the VIP lounge? Something it was that had bothered Doctor Bailey. . .or frightened him.

The anemic Doctor Anxious had just gone to the lounge, and now, Mr. Baldy moved across the boarding area and also went through the VIP door. Mr. Spectators waited only a minute before doing the same.

Ever since I started off for Israel, something hadn't felt right. First, my Susan doesn't want to take her summer school; then comes Judith and her orders and her meshuge driving; we get the airport in time for an arrest, right before my eyes. Now, Spectators and Baldy start following Doctor Anxious around. Omens? Maybe I didn't need to see the homeland.

Fanny, I scolded, Adrienne's parents have promised to send Susan to meet you at Ben Gurion Airport. She's expecting you. You're going!

My Larry was right. I worry too much. Terrorists. Senile old woman. Like Mrs. Krepalski I would be if I didn't watch out. One day, she's talking to her canary and her dead husband, then bingo, the Alzheimer's. Now she doesn't even know she was ever married, bless her soul.

"Mother Zindel!"

Judith was upset with me, what was new? I looked up at her.

"She needs your passport," Judith said, gesturing to the girl behind the counter.

I gave it.

"She'd like an aisle seat," Judith told the girl. "Non-smoking."

The desk clerk beat a message onto her keys. "One moment." She marked my ticket and handed it back.

Judith tucked my passport and my ticket back into my everything bag like I was Susan, no, younger even. Me, senile? Second childhood? Not yet! I left the ticket where she'd put it, but moved my passport to my handbag, latched it firmly, and tucked it back under my arm, its strap wrapped twice around my wrist. Twice.

"Lawrence has upgraded your ticket to first class. Don't you dare to turn it in. And after you meet Susan, I've signed you both up with Prestige Tours. It's a group from the Senior Travel Club; at least, I think that was the name." She looked like trying to remember gave her a pain.

Senior, I knew, wasn't going to mean they'd been in the business a long time. It was going to mean a bunch of old folks, alta cockers. Them, kvetching their way through my tour of the Holy Land, I didn't need. For kvetching, I had my daughter-in-law with complaints enough for three people! And I had my neighbor, Mr. Kohn, all the time about his arthritis. And, of course, poor Mrs. Krepalski, bless her. Thanks be to God, I liked her canary and it didn't mind too much my Susan's three cats.

I looked at my daughter-in-law, Her Royal Kvetchness! Judith had hated the cats, so when Susan went to boarding school, who inherited? Lucky for me, Mrs. Bernardi could come to watch them while I'm gone. The vet bill for care, on top of the trip expense, I couldn't afford, Lawrence or no Lawrence.

I thought about my granddaughter again. It must have been more than horsemanship. My Susan loved all animals since before she could crawl. What with my daughter, her aunt Deborah, the veterinarian, Susan had a choice? From a horse, she wouldn't run. I gave another try: "So, Judith, what else is Susan taking with the horse classes?"

Ah-ha! I thought I saw her skin turn pink below her tennis tan. "A little history, maybe, a little mathematics?" I gave her my version of a Columbo squint. Peter Falk couldn't do it any better.

"Well, Larry did think if Susan really wants to go into practice with his sister some day, she needs to have a good grade in chemistry." Judith looked defensive.

I nodded. Chemistry! No wonder. "Acid? Explosions? My granddaughter should spend a summer blowing herself up, maybe?"

Judith rolled her eyes as if looking for strength to deal with such a curse as a worried grandmother. "You're behind the times, Frances. Again. They don't allow the children anything explosive. And it was preparatory math-for-chemistry, anyway."

I nodded. Math. I hadn't been far wrong. I wasn't sure I could convince Susan to go back. I was glad Judith wanted her to go on a tour with me, but with Alta Cockers Incorporated? Never. I would change our itinerary when I got to Tel Aviv.

It couldn't hurt to offer. I waved my pass to the fancy-shmancy section at her. "If I turn this in and take back my Economy ticket, it would make up the difference if Susan decided to skip the summer classes."

"It's your job to see she doesn't. And you're to go first class all the way, Frances. Lawrence wants you to have a good time."

I shook my head. "I can't have a good time and save money? Economy's going to the same places, Judy, it's attached to the plane."

Judith glared. Too late I remembered she hated being called Judy. "You'll think we all have to move to Beverly Hills next, maybe?"

"Frances. . .Encino is just as. . .look, let's not get into this. You get Susan back to school. Just make sure she gets on the right plane from Tel Aviv. You'll have almost two-and-a-half weeks before her classes start."

"I promise nothing, Judith. Our Susa-le has a mind of her own."

"Like her grandmother," Judith mumbled, just loud enough for me to hear.

"I'll do what I can Judy, dear." She winced. Even if Susan didn't want to tour--and with the alta cockers, I wouldn't blame her if she didn't--we still had a lot to keep us busy: I had promised Sadie I'd buy a nice tallis, a shawl for her nephew to pray in; deliver some perfume to her cousin in Jerusalem; and for Mr. Kohn, my neighbor, I'd get water from the Jordan; and for another friend, water from the Dead Sea. Time permitting, we could go plant the tree for Morris, and if time didn't permit, well, we weren't going on the tour Judith picked in any case. Frances: two, Judith: zero.

As we passed through the airport metal detector, there were noises like the celebration of Purim in the synagogue: bells, buzzers, shouts. All eyes were on me. Two guards motioned me to the side. I was so busy setting my everything bag on the machine, I had forgotten to put my purse through. I laid it on the conveyor belt. It vanished under the curtain. Nothing.

Then I stepped through again. Once more with the bells and buzzers. For me? What was I doing wrong?

This time a lady guard took me aside and patted my pockets. A frisking? A sixty-something grandmother of four?

"Empty your pockets, please, ma'am."

I smiled at the guard. She was just doing her duty, and God-willing, she would do the same duty on Mr. Spectator Shoes and Mr. Baldy.

While Judith rolled her eyes and sighed, I dug into the pockets of my trenchcoat and pulled out Kleenex in the little cellophane travel packets, mints, a bundle of nylon clothesline--God forbid my luggage should break--and my yarn snips. The ones with the handles like two storks doing something even storks probably shouldn't. A gift they were, from my dear Morris, for our first anniversary; he hid them in my crocheting. He said he felt so wicked, but then, what a time we had after the champagne and the guests! I've carried those scissors ever since. To my shock, the guard grabbed for the five-or-so inches of pointed steel and glared at me. Like Judith she looked for a moment; I needed another one?

"An anniversary gift from my late husband," I said. "For my crocheting. The yarn." I picked up the everything bag with the knitting and the blue Angora wool. Grasping a strand firmly, I tugged. Nothing. "I can't break it across my fingers like I used to," I explained.

The guards smiled at one another and motioned me through the gate. No alarms. On the far side, the girl handed me my storks, but not before she got a little laugh from what they did when you worked the blades. Could a grandmother blush? From finding out, I didn't need. I reached for my storks. "What if I want from the duty free before I go?" I asked, thinking to take a little something to my friends Theo and Deborah Ciss without paying tax.

"You'll have to clear those again when you come back through the metal detector, ma'am." She pointed at the storks. "Take them out ahead of time."

I nodded and thanked her. Judith gave me a look; she had been at the lemons again. I tucked the naughty storks into my everything bag and hurried past before she could start in about how I had embarrassed her.

The seats near the World Airlines flight gate had filled rapidly. With the tsuris, troubles, at the metal detector, there was only one left when I arrived. I took it while Judith went to get my boarding pass. She had a line to stand in. I had a three-year-old on one side--cute he was, but spoiled--and a nursing mother on the other.

There were a number of rabbinical students waiting for the flight. Then I noticed that the young mother next to me had her hair almost completely covered, as prescribed by Orthodox law, her skirt, a drab color, was well below her knees. A shame such a rule, the slipping scarf hinted at lovely hair hiding under that tichel.

My Morris had been almost Orthodox in his religious practice, and, of course, while we were married, I did what my husband wanted. But me, personally? Now that Morris was gone, I leaned more toward Conservative, or maybe even Reform. Although I usually lit the candles on Friday night to welcome the start of Shabbos, and I did keep a Kosher kitchen--it was easier after so many years of doing--I had given up most of the more worrisome traditions.

You get older, you have to bend to what your body tells you it needs. I have to admit that if--as the saying goes--it's hard to be a Jew, it's harder to be a Jewess. Would my Morris have had so much as a tallis shawl to pray in, or a yarmulke for his head if I hadn't been the one to wash it nice for him? Kosher in the kitchen, I know he wouldn't have been able to keep himself; the man couldn't find a teaspoon without my help. I figure when my Morris was alive, I really kept the faith for both of us. So now, HaShem, God, should care if I make it a little easier on my arthritis, which, by the way, I didn't ask Him for? Probably not.

The baby grabbed at strand of it's mother's hair, pulling it free of the scarf. The young woman hurried to push it back out of sight. Yes, long, and a lovely rust color; probably the wife of one of the young men in black who bobbed in the corner as they davened. Crows pecking at the morning grass. So, my Morris had looked when he'd prayed. My eyes grew moist. It was hard to believe he was gone, even after almost four years.

At the far end of the boarding area, music suddenly blared.

Everyone, except the young rabbinical students, started, then stared at the boy with the five earrings, the Indian haircut and the blasting radio. An attendant spoke to him and the volume dropped. I found my size seven foot, which had served me so well during my early years as a model and actress, tapping softly.

"Ugh! What noise!" Judith said.

I looked up to see her standing in front of me, her nose wrinkled in disgust. Maybe it was as well my granddaughter was at boarding school in England. From Judith I had enough already, and that was just from the house to the airport.

"It seems there's a delay." Judith looked at her watch. "Will you be all right if I leave? There's a meeting of the synagogue sisterhood to discuss the banquet."

To show off your new tennis dress, I thought, watching a passerby ogle my daughter-in-law. A good figure she had, a bit thin, but hadn't my mother always said there was no accounting for taste? "I think I can manage, Judith dear," I said, using my frail voice on her. I followed with a brave smile. Sometimes I wondered if she would recognize sarcasm if she found it nested in her Shrimp Louie. With what that one knew from kosher, shellfish she would eat. She leaned to give me one of her chilly pecks on the cheek. "You give me a call when Susan's safely on the plane. You can call collect."

"So much extra for collect?" Made of money she thinks my Lawrence is. "Frances, I think we can eke out a few pennies to learn of our only daughter's safety." Humph! Hear her, "eke out," so maybe she knew from sarcasm after all. I shrugged. "And Frances, please don't mother everyone. You never know who you're talking to these days."

I smiled sweetly. "Not to worry, World Airlines has terrific security; I hear terrorists you can hardly find anymore." Frances: three, Judith: zero. Well, maybe a half a point I could give her for that "eke out."

She gave me a wave and a snarl and left, weaving through the crowd, the men parting like the Red Sea before Moses. A looker she was. But my mother, bless her, always said that pretty could get you through the door but only nice was going to keep you in by the fire. Why had my Larry married her? Well, with the two children, better they shouldn't just divorce like my Marvin and his bride. No children, there, thank God. It was sad, but what was, was.

I headed toward the boarding gate to exchange my ticket for economy. Maybe the desk clerk could fix up a trade with someone who wanted first class. With what I would save--nearly half the price--never mind that Prestige Tour Judith had arranged, I could probably buy out half of Israel. A bargain Judith wouldn't know, even if it gave her a wolf-whistle!

While I was at the desk, I'd find out more about this delay. Not for standing around the airport had I booked the earliest flight. The sooner I got to Israel, the sooner I could help Susan and the sooner I might know about my brother, Albert, and his great shandeh.

CHAPTER TWO

It took some doing, but at last I put my Economy pass into my bag and tucked the receipt for my Visa refund into my wallet. The tour I would cancel when I got to Israel and found out what they had instead. I would talk it over with Susan. Maybe she and Adrian had something planned that Susan thought she'd miss because she had to meet her grandmother. That I didn't want. Enough it was, that she might have to spend her summer with her nose in a math book!

More than half an hour to wait. I schlepped my things over to a chair and started crocheting on the sweater for Susan. A pullover in an openwork pattern with a scooped neckline. Very dressy, if it came out like my design sketch. At sixteen, a girl as pretty as my granddaughter must have some boy she wanted to fix up for.

I sighed. Sixteen, and already not a child anymore, a young lady. A nice little figure, dark curly hair and sparkling hazel eyes: to die for! Any boy in his right mind should be grateful to have her look at him even once.

I pulled out a strand of deep blue metallic dazzle yarn and worked it into the lacy boarder of the neckline. Yes, Susan would love it.

Suddenly, a shadow on my blue Angora. I looked up to see Doctor Anxious. "They've just confirmed my standby," he said, smiling. "Seat fourteen B." I smiled. "Oh, you'll be right next to me."

"I thought maybe I could buy you a drink while we wait. Sort of a thank you for helping me."

His words rushed out of him like a child telling a lie. "I appreciate that, Doctor, but it was no trouble," I said, looking up from my work for a moment. My fingers kept making stitches. To watch I didn't need, after crocheting since I was younger than Susan was now.

He smiled down at me, timid, like he was out of practice. "I. . .could use the company," he said, his eyes darting around the terminal like a cat watching a goldfish.

"So, that's another story. A little something with a nice Irish doctor? I don't mind if do," I said, stuffing my crocheting back in my everything bag.

Doctor Paul grinned and ran a hand through his thinning red hair. "Scottish and Irish actually."

I followed Doctor Paul into the lounge and bar. He pushed open the door and showed a card to the hostess. "VIP" it said. Fancy-schmacy. Lots of tables and sofas, like someone's living room. Men sat hunched over open briefcases, their ears glued to telephones as they worked right up to the last boarding call.

"You need to phone anyone before you board, Mrs. Zindel? Local numbers are free in here."

I nodded. "Thank you. I think, maybe, I'll give my son, Lawrence, a jingle. He couldn't make it to the airport this morning. He had to be in court early. A big case."

Doctor Paul showed me to a place in the corner and pointed to the phone. "Help yourself."

A bar there was off to one side with a few little round tables nearby. "What would you like, Mrs. Zindel?"

"It's Fanny, please," I said, giving him a smile. "What I would like, they haven't got: an egg cream like the old days. So, maybe just a little iced tea, if it's no trouble."

He looked around the room, still nervous. "Excuse me, Fanny, I'll get our drinks." I had started to dial when I spotted Mr. Spectators talking to a pretty blonde at a table across the room. A handsome couple they made. Then the blonde saw Doctor Paul at the bar and hurried over to him. Not just a few of the men's heads turned to look at her, believe me. My son I could call later. I put the receiver down and watched.

She seemed to be upset about something and then she waved Mr. Spectators over to join them. Upset she may have been, but I knew that other look, too. Unless I was very mistaken, she had a real crush on Doctor Paul.

As I watched her, Mr. Baldy came toward me and I took a grip on my knitting needles. He smiled and introduced himself: "I see you are with Doctor Bailey. I'm Nathan Weiss."

"Frances Zindel," I said, feeling a little foolish. I took my hand off my knitting needles and slid my everything bag onto the floor. "I only just met Doctor Bailey. You a doctor, too?" Mr. Weiss shook his head. His eyes were really not so beady after all, I decided, and a rather sweet brown, like a spaniel. Bald, he still was though, just a few strands over the top, also brown, but lighter. From his smile I could see he had nice teeth. He took good care of himself. He was very trim, and a spring in his step, like a much younger man.

On his charcoal-gray suit he hadn't saved a penny, I can tell you. I had sewed enough in my life to know quality when I saw it. His shirt collar was stiff and new; his tie was paisley silk and firmly knotted.

"I'm a student of archeology," he said. "I hoped to meet Doctor Bailey. He is quite renowned in the field."

"He's famous?" That perked up both my ears, believe me. "At least he is to a select group of scholars," Mr. Weiss said, looking over at Doctor Paul and the blonde

"What famous? He invent a cancer cure? What?" I saw Mr. Spectators return to his table, leaving the blonde with Doctor Paul.

"He didn't talk to you about his new Dead Sea find?"

"Me? What I know from the Dead Sea is, it's full of salty water. What else is to find?" Mr. Baldy Weiss paused and looked at me. Such a look I didn't like. "Quite a lot, actually. It's his discovery, maybe I should let him tell you." He looked away from me like he was sorry he mentioned it.

"So, you would like an introduction, maybe?" I asked.

He looked a little red from this, but with the soft lighting, I could have been mistaken. "If you would be so kind, Mrs. Zindel?"

"Fanny," I told him.

"And I'm Nathan."

I smiled at him. "I'd be happy to introduce you. I'm sure Doctor Paul would be glad to talk to someone who is in his business." I looked closely at Mr. Nathan Weiss. "What did you say your business was?" Across the room, the blonde turned away from Doctor Paul and grabbed her purse. Then she almost ran from the lounge.

Mr. Weiss smiled. "I didn't say, but I'm retired. Archeology is my hobby."

I saw Doctor Paul coming from the bar. His eyes narrowed when he saw Mr. Nathan Weiss with me. He looked nervous, but he kept walking toward our table. I thought I saw the line of tea shiver in the glass when Doctor Paul came closer.

As he set my iced tea in front of me, I thanked him and introduced the two men. He did not offer to shake Nathan's hand.

I had to give it to Mr. Weiss, a hint he could take. He said something about how much he admired Doctor Paul's work, and went back to his place at the bar.

Doctor Paul didn't seem too happy about the introduction. "Who is he?" he said, glancing nervously from me to the figure of Mr. Nathan Weiss hunched over his drink.

"I should know him from Adam? He said to me what he said to you: he admired your work."

"That's all?" Doctor Paul said, a bit too sharply.

"My head you're biting, now?"

"Forgive me, Mrs. Zindel, Fanny. I'm a little on edge."

I felt my everything bag move and started to grab for it. Then I saw Doctor Paul was only shifting it so he could pull out his chair. "So, why is it you're so famous that strangers in airports ask to meet you?"

"Oh, I'm not famous. I got my name in the papers a few times because I pushed too hard on the committee, the group of men who control the Dead Sea Scrolls. I wanted permission to work with them doing translating. It got me nothing but trouble. Now they'll never let me near the original scrolls."

"You should be worried? I understand you have something they might want to see as well."

Doctor Paul looked like I just dumped a bowl of cold borsht in his lap. His head snapped around and he looked over at Mr. Weiss. "He. . .that man. . .what was his name?"

Doctor Paul paused just long enough for me to say "Nathan Weiss" and then rushed on. "He told you I'd found some new scrolls?" His fingers shredded a corner of his napkin. I waved a hand at him. "Scrolls-schmolls, he said you made a find by the Dead Sea; and you're famous; and asked me would I introduce you." I shrugged.

Now, he looked really unhappy.

"So, you found some new Dead Sea Scrolls?" I asked, thinking to cheer him up with a little chit-chat about his work. "I thought they had them for years already."

Paul twirled his glass against his napkin. "Look. Mrs. Zindel--"

"Fanny," I corrected again.

"All right, Fanny, then. I really can't talk about this just yet."

"You should maybe get one of those copyright things on your scroll, like my Marvin does his music compositions. Then you don't have to worry. So much worry isn't good for the heart, you know. My Morris, he worried too much. Now look where he is."

Doctor Paul looked confused. "Ah. . .I beg your pardon? Morris?"

"Mount Sinai cemetery. In the plot we had for the two of us. Now my Morris rests, but it's in peace."

"Mrs. . . .Fanny, would you please not speak of the scrolls in here?" "Such a thing you wouldn't be proud of?"

"Let's just say they're rather controversial and leave it at that." He looked over his shoulder and then twirled his glass some more. Already his napkin was in bits. Such a nervous young man.

"Say, about my Morris, he had a secretary, lovely girl. Ruthie."

Doctor Paul looked up from twirling and shredding. "I beg your pardon," he said. To know he hadn't heard a word, I didn't need a college degree.

"My late husband's secretary, Ruthie. Just turned twenty-eight and not married. Let me give you her number." I took out one of Morris's business cards and scribbled Ruthie's name and number along with my own on the back before Doctor Paul could refuse. "You just give her a call when you get back to the States. You'll never be sorry. Such a nice girl, Ruthie."

Doctor Paul took the card I pressed on him. "Thank you, Fanny."

"You better put that in your wallet before you lose it. It's not so easy to find a nice girl nowadays, with all the drugs and loose living. Ruthie's from a good Irish family. Your parents maybe know the O'Malleys?"

He shook his head. "I. . .don't see my family much. I'm sort of the black sheep." I made a sound with my tongue against the top of my mouth. Such a shame to lose touch, I thought. "Well, you call her. You won't be sorry you did."

"I will, Fanny. Thank you." He put the card away like I told him.

"Could I ask you a favor in return?"

"If I could help, I'm happy to," I said, and gave him my full attention so he should know I was sincere.

"Are you going to Tiberias?"

I nodded.

"I. . .have this letter." He looked around the bar once before taking an envelope from his coat pocket. He handed it to me. "This has to be in Tiberias no later than Tuesday afternoon. Would you mind dropping it off for me? The mails are so uncertain in Israel."

I took the envelope and looked at the address. "I wouldn't mind, but why can't you take it yourself? You'll get on the same plane as me."

He looked uncomfortable. "Well, I'm lecturing at Ben Gurion University in Beersheva until Thursday. I won't get to Tiberias in time."

"In time?"

"Yes. It's my business partner's anniversary. I helped D'Amante compose a. . ." He looked into his lap before going on. "It's a love poem. I suppose you'll think it's silly, but. . ." He shrugged and twirled his drink.

"Of course it's not silly! What a lovely thing for *you to do. Your Mr. D'Amante is lucky to have your help. But a Frenchman needing help with love matters?"

Paul shrugged. "He's French Arab. Maybe that dilutes the ability." He laughed.

"Embarrassed about helping you shouldn't be. What girl in her right mind wouldn't be thrilled to get such a romantic fellow as yourself?" Then I thought of Ruthie. Poor, lonely Ruthie, with her spaniel and her cat and her one-bedroom apartment, and the way the blonde had looked at Doctor Paul. "You maybe have a girl already?" I asked.

He looked up as if I'd shot off a cannon. "Me?" He shook his head. "No,. . .I don't have anyone."

I smiled and reached across the table to pat his hand. "You give Ruthie a call when you go home. Lovely, and can she cook! Some meat on your bones, a girl to take care of you. Then maybe, you should pardon me, you wouldn't be such a nervous wreck."

"I. . .suppose that would be nice," he said, with a pathetic little shrug and then he excused himself to go to the men's room.

I looked at his glass. His drink he hadn't touched except to twirl.

Well, maybe Morris's Ruthie could get him to relax a little, calm down. Doctor Paul wasn't going to live a long life if he kept on this way, I was sure. Feh! If I had known then. But I didn't know.

When the first call to board our plane came over the speaker and Doctor Paul still wasn't back yet, I began to worry. Such a long time he was gone already.

The second call came for our flight and still no Doctor Paul. I looked under the table and saw that his briefcase still lay on the floor next to my everything bag. Also an important looking pamphlet put out by some archeological institute in Israel. Worried they shouldn't be taken, I picked them up and placed them on the table. I was getting a little nervous myself. Doctor Paul had been so anxious to get on our flight and now, nothing.

The last call came and no Dr. In-A-Hurry. I can tell you, it made me uncomfortable. I waited as long as I could, then I tucked his pamphlet into my everything bag. Waving my storks at the guards as I went again through the metal detectors, I dropped them back in my everything bag and schlepped his briefcase along to the boarding area.

"I'd like to leave this for Doctor Paul Bailey. He seems to be delayed. Flight 186 to Israel. He's in seat fourteen B. Will you be sure he gets this when he comes on?"

The girl, her black hair slicked back into a bun much like my own, took the case, scribbled his name on a tag and smiled at me. "I'll give it to him. But he'd better be here soon, or the seat will be given to the next person on the list."

"He'll be here." I looked over my shoulder again as the girl at the boarding gate took my ticket. No Doctor Paul.

I craned my neck as I started down the corridor.

No Doctor Paul.

Once on board, I put my carry-on case, with the mandel brot and other things from home for Susan, on the overhead. How Susan loved the twice-baked almond bread I still made several times a year. I tucked my everything bag under my seat. The place next to mine was still empty. Across the aisle, Mr. Nathan Weiss buckled up his safety belt. I couldn't sit still, shpilkes I had, so I walked to the door and looked for Doctor Paul.

The stewardess told me to go back and buckle in. With one last glance down the boarding corridor, I returned to my seat while the attendants walked through the plane counting. The captain's voice came over the loudspeaker; like God he sounded as he welcomed us aboard. The flight attendants got ready to give their little spiel about the life jackets.

I leaned over to Mr. Weiss. "Doctor Paul, he didn't make the plane. They can't go yet!" Nathan also looked concerned. "What happened to him?"

I shrugged. "Last I saw him, he went to the men's room. You think maybe he's sick or something?"

"Did he look sick?"

"No. But he was so anxious to get on this flight, and now where is he?" "He'll catch the next flight."

"He had to be in Beer Sheba to lecture. Such a hurry he was in, he even gave me a letter to take because he didn't think he'd make it to Tiberias by Tuesday."

Nathan looked furious. "A letter! My God! Let me see it."

"And who are you to give me orders, Mr. Nathan Weiss?"

"Do you realize he could have given you a letter bomb to carry on?"

"Feh! What nonsense. It was his partner's anniversary love poem. He wanted it there in time."

Mr. Weiss gave me a look. If I could have died of shame for stupid, it would have been then.

"He's not on the plane, is he? If we all blow to hell, he won't be on board. Give me that letter."

Suddenly, he made sense. Could it be? I didn't want to think so, but I took the envelope from my everything bag.

Mr. Weiss reached for it. I pulled it back. "What are you going to do with it?"

"Take it to be X-rayed."

"You promise, I get it back if it's safe? I said I'd deliver it for him. Fanny Zindel, a person can trust."

Mr. Weiss nodded. Taking the envelope gingerly, he hurried to the front of the plane. In moments, the engines stopped. Outside on the runway, the ground crew pushed a set of those rolling stairs toward the plane. I saw Mr. Weiss scurry out of the captain's cockpit and down them. He ran across the runway toward the building, his coat flapping behind him. An airport official met him at the entrance.

Worried, I sank into my seat. I looked at all the people around me. Had I really nearly cost them all their lives?

CHAPTER THREE

I could hear the background rumble of voices as the passengers wondered about the delay. I looked at my watch and gave it a shake. It still ticked. Ten minutes only. A stewardess came smiling up the aisle, telling everyone not to worry, we would be taking off soon.

Even as I looked at the time again, Mr. Weiss came hurrying toward the stairs.

Moments later, he strode toward me from the cockpit. Taking his seat, he buckled in. "So, in suspense you're keeping me?"

Mr. Weiss pulled the letter from his coat pocket and handed it over without meeting my eyes. "It was all right."

"Didn't I tell you? Doctor Paul couldn't hurt anyone." I turned over the envelope and checked the seal. It didn't look as if it had been opened, but who knew? I tucked it back in my everything bag and pulled out the blue Angora and my crochet hook. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the blonde from the VIP lounge run up the stairs they had used for Mr. Weiss.

Breathless, she came down the aisle and took the place next to me. The one reserved for Doctor Paul. She pushed a light blue train case underneath her seat.

Even before the girl was buckled in, I introduced myself. "My name is Frances Zindel. You're lucky you made this flight."

"Yes, I am. I left the boarding area when they said standby was filled. Then I saw the plane was delayed, so I took a chance and came back." She held out a hand to me. "My name is Talia Rosen. I was lucky one of the standbys canceled." She swung her heavy blond hair back- from her face. When she smiled at me, her teeth looked very white against her tan. A pretty girl.

"Canceled? Never. Doctor Paul missed his plane. And so anxious he was to be on it. His letter will have to go to Israel without him." I plucked it from my everything bag by way of making my point. As I waved it, Talia's hand reached to stop the motion. She stared at the envelope for a moment.

"Doctor Paul? You can't mean Doctor Paul Bailey?"

"His very seat your sitting."

Talia's generous lips pressed thin over her teeth. "Oh, no. I was supposed to attend his lectures. You mean he won't be giving them?"

I shrugged. "So worried he was, that he wouldn't get to the university on time. I'm sure, he'll take the very next flight." The letter was already getting schmutzig, dirty, so I put it in my purse. It would get less handling there.

The engines started again and I felt the plane moving. Only a few stitches I had worked when I saw *someone--two someones--running across the asphalt. It looked like Doctor Paul and it seemed as if that other someone was chasing him. Sunlight glinted off something in the man's hand.

"Look!" I nudged Talia and she turned to the window, but by then there was nothing to see. I began to worry. Had Paul been running from that man?

"What was it, Mrs. Zindel?"

"Call me Fanny, please. I guess I was mistaken."

"About what?"

"I thought I saw Doctor Paul."

Talia jerked around in her seat and pressed her face against the window. "Where?"

"Over there. He was in an awful hurry." What else was new? The plane had moved farther down the runway. "Back by those buildings. . ." I leaned to look with her, but the plane had left them too far behind. "I guess you can't see him anymore."

Talia settled back, a grim look on her face. I reached to pat her hand. "I'm sure he'll make it to the university, don't worry."

It was nearly three-thirty when we landed at J.F.K. in New York. We wouldn't take off for Amsterdam until six. Two and a half hours. I couldn't decide if I wanted to crochet on Susan's sweater or look through the duty free shops. I'd been sitting since Los Angeles, and had nothing yet to take the Cisses, so I headed for the bargains.

As soon as I saw it I knew what I would bring them. Perfume, like all the luxuries, was expensive in Israel. Here, it was cheap without the tax. I found some Giorgio for Deborah and a matching scent for Theo. Then, I was ready to sit a little, so I went back to the boarding area.

I pulled out Susan's sweater, but before I had crocheted two rows, a pair of familiar-looking black Oxfords stopped in front of me. Mr. Nathan Weiss, I thought.

"Would you like to come and have a cup of coffee with me, Fanny?"

I kept on crocheting. Without looking up, I answered: "I think I'll just sit here, Mr. Weiss."

He didn't move. "Look, Fanny, I'm sorry I was so harsh about that letter, but I really was afraid it might be dangerous."

I weakened. He looked at me with those spaniel-brown eyes and I felt myself smile at him. "Well, I guess a little something I could use, thank you, Mr. Weiss."

He walked with me to the cafeteria, holding out a chair at one of the tables like a real gentleman. "I'll go get our coffee. How about a sandwich or a piece of pie?"

"Well, to tell the truth, the jokes they make about airplane food; they aren't joking. Maybe a small toasted cheese with my coffee, if it's all right with you?"

"Sounds good," he said. "I'll have one also." He took a tray and went through the line. Later, he talked me into a piece of cherry pie for dessert.

"I shouldn't have this," I said, savoring the

sweet-sour tang of the fruit, the richness of the crust. Not homemade, but not bad for a restaurant pie. The crust, to tell you the truth, was a little soggy, but who knew how long it was sitting. Most of that fattening part I didn't finish anyway.

"Surely, you're not worried with a nice figure like yours, Fanny?"

I gave him my best smile. "Thank you Mr. Weiss, but a lady has to watch out all the time or bingo, it's out of her size ten and into the matron's wear."

Nathan laughed. "Please, Fanny, couldn't we dispense with Mr. Weiss? He's awfully stuffy. Nathan is much better company, I can tell you."

I smiled and called him Nathan, just to help the friendship along. Maybe his eyes weren't beady and maybe he wasn't a terrorist. So, I could have been wrong about him.

At six P.M., we were all back on board. The next stop was Amsterdam. I'd already learned that Nathan, like me, was going to spend the night in Holland and rest before flying on to Israel the next morning.

The jets shuddered and the plane roared out over the Atlantic. I was nervous, I can tell you. Nathan smiled over at me, but I took out my Tefilath Ha'derech, my prayer for safe travel, and read and re-read it as we left New York and land far behind.

"You were such a good traveler on the way from Los Angeles, Fanny, what happened?"

"Now is over water, Nathan."

"It's no different, Fanny, from thirty-six hundred feet up, water and land are equally hard."

I clutched at my Angora and crocheted faster. "If you think you're being funny, Mr. Nathan Weiss, I'm not laughing." I gave him a look. "Swimming I can hardly do for two minutes, never mind, forever!"

"Nothing will happen, Fanny, I promise." He reached across the aisle and took one of my hands in his.

No sooner did he let go, than I was furiously crocheting again. The blue Angora pulled thoughts of deep blue water and that shark from Jaws, the one they have at Universal Studios, now; the one that scared my grandson, Joey, Susan's baby brother, when it nearly climbed in our boat during the tour.

All I could see was sharks and my blue Angora. Nathan tapped my shoulder. I almost jumped out of my seat. A stewardess, her coal black hair slicked back, was standing next to me with a glass of wine. It was the same girl who had taken Paul's briefcase from me at the gate. Maybe that's why she gave me an odd look as she handed me my glass.

"I didn't order this" --I looked at her name badge-- "Matilda."

"I ordered it for you, Fanny," Nathan said. He slipped a bill onto the attendant's tray. Matilda started to make change, but Nathan told her to keep it. She smiled at him. "Anything more for you, Mr. Weiss?"

Nathan shook his head and Matilda walked on down the aisle.

"Such personal attention you rate?"

"I've been flying to Israel a lot since my retirement."

"Retired? If only my Morris could have lived to retire. It might have saved his life," I shook my head and sighed. "So, what did you do? Before you retired, I mean?"

"Uh. . .scrap metal."

I nodded. "Morris's cousin, Hershey, he was in scrap metal. The Lavin Co. You hear of it?"

He hesitated a moment and then nodded. "They're headquartered in Chicago, aren't they?"

I smiled and nodded. "That's them. Where was your company?"

"Pittsburgh." Nathan put his headset on and pointed to the front of the plane. The movie was starting.

I frowned. Something with ships and bombs. With my older grandson, Danny, I'd watch it, maybe. But alone, sleep I could use better.

They made the plane dark so that everyone who wanted could watch the movie. Now, with Nathan's glass of wine warming my kishkes, my insides, my eyelids began to droop. Atlantic Ocean or no Atlantic Ocean, I nodded off.

Next to me, Talia gasped. I peeked through half-open lids to see that she, too, was wrapped up in the movie. I closed my eyes again and before I knew it, I felt my ears starting to pop and heard a baby screaming from several seats away.

I looked at the lights here and there through the clouds. Amsterdam already? I glanced at my watch. Well, it was after eleven.

There was a bump and lights flashed past the windows as the plane taxied down the runway. At last, we stopped.

The airport was almost empty. Our voices carried like inside Mt. Sinai's mausoleum; I should only have the money my Great-Aunt Sofia spent being buried there.

"Let me help you with that, Fanny." Nathan took Susan's carry-on case from me and reached to get my bag off the luggage carousel. "Are you at the Vanderling Bed and Breakfast, too?"

I nodded.

"I'll carry this for you."

"No luggage yourself, Mr. Weiss. . .Nathan? Just your camera cases and that little satchel?"

"I left most of my things in Israel on my last trip."

"You have an apartment there, maybe?"

Nathan shook his head. "My daughter, Aviva, does. She's a tour guide."

We were almost through customs. I couldn't wait to be done with all this mishegoss and be asleep again in a real bed. Such craziness, this sleeping sitting up. I can tell you, it's no good for my arthritis. Stiff I was, like too much starch in one of Morris's collars when Mr. Steinberg, at our laundry, hired a new girl.

As we waited for our passports to be stamped, Nathan pulled a package of gum from his pocket and offered me some. "You hungry, Fanny? We could go for a late supper?"

I took the gum. "Thank you, Nathan. A little nosh I could always use. But a lie I wouldn't tell you, I couldn't keep my eyes open even through a glass of tea. You go ahead."

We walked outside and Nathan hailed a cab.

He held open the car door while I got in and then sat beside me. "I think you're right, Fanny." He patted my hand. "Sleep I could use more, myself." He leaned forward and gave the address to the cabbie.

I had a moment of panic when we stopped in front of the bed and breakfast. Something felt different. At first I thought I had left some of my luggage behind, then it hit me. My tennis bag. After twenty years of schlepping to and from courts I missed traveling with my racket. But rest my doctor had ordered, and so I'd left it behind.

"Fanny?"

Nathan stood holding the door of the Vanderling for me.

As we waited for someone to check us in, I explained that it felt strange to be traveling without my tennis things. Nathan seemed impressed when I told him of my tournament wins.

A nice little room. A single bed. A dresser. Enough. My soft lenses I had never had in for such a long time. I couldn't wait, believe me, to get into the bathroom. As I hurried down the hall, I hoped it was late enough to find it free.

What luck. I closed the door behind me and locked it. Looking in the small mirror, I leaned my head once to each side and squirted a drop of solution into my eyes. Digging around in my everything bag, I pulled out my contact lens case and set it on the sink while I removed my left lens.

Relief! Holding it gently, I lifted the lid to put the lens away. Gottenyu! A lens there was already, in my case. A hard lens. No, not my case? Squirting some fluid in the lid, I put my lens down in the solution and dug again in my everything bag.

Ah-ha! My own lens case I pulled from the bottom, so like the other one it was an easy mistake. I set both my lenses in to soak. Then I got my glasses and took a closer look at the strange case.

Not exact, but near enough to mine. I turned it this way and that way. Finally, I saw something scratched in the bottom. Into my everything bag for my magnifier. Yes, initials: "P. B."

Who would have put this in my bag? Again I looked at the lens in the left side of the case. Who would put a lens away with no solution? I shrugged. Maybe it was different with a hard lens?

Closing the case, I put it along with my toilet things in my everything bag and returned to my room.

I sank into the fluffy featherbed. Like a cloud it was. Such a mechaye, a delight, after the cramping of the plane. But so soft.

Could I sleep in so soft? At home was extra-firm. Morris always had a backache from too-soft. Forty-seven years on an extra-firm and now. . .

I woke with a jolt. It hit me. Hershey's son, Raymond. He wore hard lenses. And when he came to stay with us he always left the cap off his contact lens solution. Always. I remember because once Morris knocked it off the counter and stepped on the bottle by accident. Such a mess. Oych mir! Slippery all over the place.

At first, I worried if I should put some of my own solution on the lens, but then I worried it wasn't the right kind. What to do?

I climbed out of the bed. Like ice the floor was. Sliding into my slippers, I grabbed for my robe and then my purse. Did I have the right coin to put in for the heat? Such a thing, to measure the heat in rooms. And in advance you have to pay. I dug for the coin and dropped it in the slot. It landed with a clank and I heard a crackling as the wires warmed.

I shivered as I paced up and down in front of the small heater. At last it began to put out a little warmth and the coils glowed red. Thank God, I'd had the stewardess fill my thermos. I pulled it from my everything bag and poured hot decaf into the plastic lid. Then I took a little of Susan's mandel brot, just so the coffee shouldn't upset my empty stomach, and sat on the edge of the bed.

As I sipped, I thought about that lens and looked at it once more.

Turning up the light, I examined it. It was a strong color, blue like my Angora, almost. So, who has blue eyes, Fanny? I asked myself. What's a brain for if not to use?

The room was warmer now. Or maybe the decaf was working. Taking the case in my hand, I paced the length of the room. P. B.?

I stopped short. Doctor Paul Bailey! He had moved my everything bag in the lounge. I wished I could remember what color his eyes were. If it was his lens, not only had he missed his oh-so-important flight to Israel, but he was running around half-blind. Oy veh! No wonder Doctor Paul couldn't find his way back from the men's room. I only hoped he wasn't so blind without his lenses as I was without mine.

Relieved to have solved the mystery, I dropped the lens in its case into my bag. Then I saw Doctor Paul's magazine on archeology!

In all the excitement, I had forgotten to turn it in to the stewardess at the gate. I felt embarrassed, a thief even if I didn't mean it, and hoped Doctor Paul wouldn't think I had taken it on purpose. I would mail the magazine and the lens case to him at the university in Beer Sheba. That was the best I could do.

Surely a big university would see to it that he got his things, but all wrinkled from riding in my bag it shouldn't be when he saw it. I took the magazine out and smoothed it into the wide elastic pouch in the lid of my suitcase. I snapped the latches and slid it back under the bed so I wouldn't trip if I got up in the night.

That taken care of, I crawled beneath the comforter.

No sooner I hit the pillow, than I remembered I still hadn't wet the lens. I lay thinking for a moment.

Well, better I should wait until I asked someone. Doctor Paul would never forgive me if I ruined it. Such an expense they were to replace. Didn't I know from my own experience? You might as well go buy gold. I fell asleep to the sounds of another late traveler coming up the hotel stairs.

There came a klop on the door. Soft, at first, then louder. It was the wake-up I'd left with the desk.

"All right," I called. "I'm up. Thank you."

I could hardly believe it was morning already. So damp. I put on my robe and slippers and looked for my everything bag. Not on the dresser?

My eyes darted around the small room, a little panicked at first. Then I saw it sitting on the floor between the dresser and the door. It could have fallen off the bureau during the night, I thought. Maybe I had set it too close to the edge. Had I slept through such a noise? I had to admit that with my hearing and having had so little sleep, it was possible.

I picked it up and hurried down the hall to the bathroom. Occupied. Pacing, I looked out the small window and saw the early mist still rising from the canal below. No wonder my joints ached this morning.

The bathroom door opened. Who should walk out but Nathan, and me with not even my hair combed.

"Good morning, Fanny. You sleep well?"

I ducked into the bathroom, quick. "Very well, Nathan, thank you." I closed the door, hoping he shouldn't notice what a mess I looked.

"Nice bathrobe, Fanny. You look lovely in the morning."

Then his footsteps klopped off down the hall just like he hadn't made such a smart remark.

I looked in the mirror and then down at the black and red silk kimono Larry and Judith had brought me from Japan. My silver-gray braid was hardly mussed. "Well, not too bad. Maybe he meant it." For him, the benefit of the doubt I was giving.

Downstairs in the dining area, Nathan stood and held out a chair for me. I sat. "So, did you sleep well?"

He nodded. "Absolutely, Fanny, and dreamed of you."

I poured cream into my coffee. "Such a romantic Amsterdam has made you, Mr. Nathan Weiss."

"Not the city, Fanny, the company."

I blushed, stared at my hands, and spooned extra sugar into my cup. The serving girl arrived at our table with toast. But not just toast. Rolls, Danish, jam, marmalade, and butter. I spread some on a roll. Such heavenly butter.

As we ate in silence, the girl brought more: soft eggs, fresh milk, and porridge.

After breakfast, Nathan took me on a quick tour of the Anne Frank House, which was nearby. I found I couldn't stay very long in the attic rooms where they hid. It gave me a funny feeling, like someone walking on my grave.

We took a cab back to the airport, checked our luggage curbside, and went in to wait for our flight.

"You'll excuse me a moment while I become a gentleman," Nathan said, motioning to the men's room.

"Nathan, you're always a gentleman." I smiled at him. "I'll be in the duty free shops. Such bargains."

Nathan nodded. He hurried off and I went over to check. Maybe I should get some perfume for Mrs. Krepalski, I thought, looking at the dolls and blown glass bottles. Too much to pick from. At last, I decided I would just get cheese and chocolates for my trip and wait with gifts for home until I got to Israel. From heavier luggage, I didn't need.

I was putting my purchases in my everything bag when someone shouted: "Stand back! Everyone back!" Turning around, I saw an airport guard marching a prisoner out of the men's room door.

Gottenyu! It was Nathan.

As they passed me, I fell into step with them.

"Nathan, what happened in there?"

The guard elbowed me aside. Good his English wasn't. "Excuse, please. This man is dangerous."

"Feh! Nathan is as dangerous as my pinky."

The guard gave me such a look. He started to hurry Nathan away, but I kept up.

"Here! Where are you going with him?"

"Fanny, you're going to miss your flight. I can take care of myself." Nathan was making gestures like I should leave him, what nonsense!

"Quiet you!" the guard commanded, hitting my poor Nathan a blow in the ribs.

Such a thing I wouldn't take from anyone. Before I knew it, I had swung my purse and struck the guard on the shoulder. Nathan called out my name in shock.

The guard turned on me, drawing his gun. As he pulled the weapon from his holster, something he had been holding clattered to the floor. I looked down. My blood froze. So cold as that I hadn't been even in my room the night before.

At my feet lay a plastic bag. The inside was bloody. In the mess lay my storks, my yarn scissors. I jumped for them. The guard put his boot down on the bag.

"What are you doing with those?" I cried. "My Morris gave me those."

The guard stared at me and Nathan's hands went to his head as if he had a pain.

"These are yours, Madam?" the guard said stiffly. He retrieved the bag and held it up in front of me. The gun pointed my way.

"Of course. Where did you get them?"

"You, too, are under arrest. You come with the gentleman."

He grabbed my arm. Nathan and I were hurried toward the security office.

"What is it, Nathan? What's going on?"

"You should have caught the plane, Fanny."

"So I didn't. So tell me."

"There's been a murder, Fanny. In the men's room."

CHAPTER FOUR

My knees felt weak. I thought of the blood in the bag where the guard had my storks. With a sigh you could have knocked me over. "A murder!"

The guard jabbed me in the ribs and told me to be quiet. He opened the door and gestured us inside.

Two hard-backed chairs faced a table and he pointed us to them. I started to ask Nathan again what was the excitement, but the guard waved his gun and Nathan put a hand on my knee. "Shh."

I shushed.

It seemed like hours, but it was really thirty minutes, only. Meanwhile, I had these questions burning like kreplach left too long on the stove. Who was murdered? Who killed him? I guessed it was a man you would kill in place like that, right? And how did the murderer get my storks to use? I tried to think of everyone who had been near my bag since I left Los Angeles. Too many people: Talia, Nathan, several of the flight attendants, even the person who sat behind me on the plane. And of course, Doctor Paul.

Hadn't he moved my bag in the VIP lounge? And hadn't his contact lens case ended up with me, somehow? I tried to remember exactly when I had last used my storks for anything, but all that came to me was the scene they caused at the metal detector in Los Angeles. I pulled out my crocheting and counted my rows. I still had some yarn left, so I wouldn't have had to use my storks to cut a new ball of Angora from the wrapper.

Finally, the captain of the guard came in, all ipsy-pipsy, like everything was dandy. How come? He spoke in Dutch to Nathan and, to my surprise, Nathan answered him. . .in Dutch!

Such talents. But telling me what was going on, wasn't one of them.

I cleared my throat, not once, but twice. At last, the men looked over at me. I stared at Nathan. "Nu?"

"It's all right, Fanny. The authorities will have to keep your scissors for a while, but at least I've assured them you're not the one who used them for murder."

"Plenty of people I can't stand, so murder, maybe, but in the men's room I should go? Feh!" I shook my head.

The captain looked at Nathan, who said something in rapid Dutch. Both men laughed.

I was angry by the time Nathan included me. "Fine for you to laugh." I tapped the glass on my watch with a finger. "I missed my flight. My granddaughter will have no one to meet."

"We'll be on the noon flight, Fanny."

"A sixteen-year-old girl alone at Ben Gurion. Such a girl you wouldn't want to leave alone."

"Excuse me, Madam. You wish me to place a call?" the captain asked.

"Such an expense?"

"We would of course take care of the charges."

I smiled at him. Gracious I could be, since he was trying so hard to be nice about making up for his mistake. Then I remembered, she wouldn't be there yet. I grabbed Nathan's sleeve. "Nathan, I can't call now. Adrian's parents won't drop Susan at Ben Gurion until three. Our flight was due around three-thirty. Now we're going to be nearly two hours late. When Susan gets to Ben Gurion, I'm going to be the middle of the clouds."

Nathan explained my problem. The captain listened a moment and then told us he would arrange for the pilot to assist me with an in-flight call, so Susan shouldn't worry.

"Nathan, what will she do for two hours? That airport, is it safe?"

"It is, Fanny, but if you like, I can arrange to have her take a cab to the Shalom Tower."

"What's Shalom Tower? Is it safe?"

"It has an amusement park on the roof, Fanny. She'll love it there."

"From loving it, I'm not worried; is it safe?"

Nathan smiled. "She'll be fine, Fanny. We can arrange a meeting place.

I nodded. I only hoped everything would be okay with my Susan.

Being arrested is tired-making, believe me. So is curiosity. *Although I questioned him, Nathan had avoided telling me anything about the murder. Not who got murdered, not why, not even how my storks could have ended up in the hands of a killer. I pumped him about why he was so easily let go after being found leaning over the body. All he would say was that a friend in Amsterdam of "impeccable reliability" had vouched for him. Feh! Impeccable reliability was what the people who vouched for ex-President Nixon had. Still in all, he didn't look like a murderer to me. But all those months ago, what did I know?

I napped in my seat a little, my crocheting dropping from my lap.

By three-fifteen, the stewardess came to my seat to say my call was ready--imagine, calling from mid-air-- Ben Gurion Airport, she told me. My Susan was already on the phone and waiting. I hurried down the aisle and over to one of those fancy credit-card phones. Nathan came, too, in case he was needed.

"Hello? Susa-le? Can you hear me?"

"I hear you fine, Bubbe. What's the matter? Are you all right? You're coming, aren't you?"

My Susan sounded so frightened. I felt like a real schlemiel for making her worry. "Yes, of course, I'm coming. I just missed my flight this morning is all. I'll tell you when I see you. But you sound so worried. Is something bothering you, Susa-le?

"Oh, Bubbe, I'm so unhappy. Adrian has a new boyfriend and she made me feel like such a. . .nerd."

"My granddaughter is no nerd. Not even at her worst, which I'm sure you aren't. You'll tell me more when I'm on the ground. For now, you need a place to wait for me. Do you know where the Shalom Tower is?

"Yeah, it's pretty neat. I saw it on our way over, but Adrian's parents didn't have time to stop."

"So, now you'll see it. You'll take a cab and meet me at the amusement park on the roof. How much money do you have?"

I heard shuffling and jingling as she checked.

"Ten new shekels and fifteen agorot."

I consulted with Nathan.

"You won't have enough for the cab and admission,

Susa-le. Put the airport security back on and my friend will arrange things."

"Okay, Bubbe, I can't wait to see you."

"Me, too, Susa-le. I'm giving the phone to Mr. Weiss."

Nathan spoke a moment with Susan. Then, in flowing Hebrew, he gave what I assumed were instructions to the guard to put my granddaughter into a cab. A regular United Nations he was. What next? Greek, maybe?

"Everything's arranged Fanny. She'll be perfectly safe."

Relieved, I returned to my seat. Now that I'd heard Susan's voice, I could hardly wait to see her. I told Nathan about Susan's upset and thanked him for arranging her transportation.

"My pleasure, Fanny. Susan sounds like a nice young girl. You know, if you don't already have plans, I'm sure I could get you and Susan into my daughter's tour group. I'd like to have your company."

"Well, a tour my daughter-in-law already arranged, but crazy about it, I'm not."

"Oh?"

"Judith, that's my daughter-in-law, Susan's mother, she thinks if it's expensive, it must be good." I shrugged. "Me, I think this Senior Travel Club will be a bunch of alta cockers. Then my Susa-le would be the only young person."

Nathan smiled. "That settles it. You must come on Aviva's tour with me. People of all ages. Maybe even a nice young man to make your Susan forget that her best friend ignored her for a boy."

By the time we touched down in Israel, I was all tsedrayt, too confused, from everything that had happened to be excited. All I wanted was to find my Susan and another nice soft bed.

Nathan led the way through customs and then on to Shalom Tower. Such a building! Modern it was, and beautiful. Nathan told me it was the tallest building in the Middle East.

We took the elevator to the roof. Up there was not only Mayerland, the amusement park, but a wax museum of Israeli history and an observatory. "I had no idea there would be so much up here, and so many people. Where do we begin, Nathan?"

"I tell you what, Fanny. Let's get you a glass of a tea and a place to sit. Then I'll look."

Grateful for his help, I nodded.

"Nathan!" I called, as he started to walk away. "You don't know what she looks like."

Nathan hurried back to the bench. "Sorry, Fanny. I guess with all you've told me about her, I felt as if I knew her. You have a picture?"

"Sure." I pulled Susan's bas mitzvah picture from my purse. "Goodness, this one is four years old already! I'd forgotten."

"Such a pretty girl."

"Yes. But I better come along. Susan, I hope, would know better than to go with a stranger, even one who talked to her on the phone and said he knew her grandmother."

Nathan smiled. "I'm actually quite glad to hear that. Except, of course, for the steps I could have saved you." He took my arm and helped me up. I noticed that he didn't let go so quick once I was walking at his side. Nice, it was, walking arm-in-arm with a gentleman again.

Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes we searched and no Susan. I must have looked like how I felt, because Nathan put an arm around my shoulders and said: "Don't worry, we'll find her, Fanny."

I sighed and sank down on a bench as tired as if I'd played three hard sets. Suddenly, over the loudspeaker, I'm being paged in terrible English. Then in Hebrew, a sentence I didn't understand. I glanced up at Nathan.

"They want you to go to the main office, Fanny."

"You think it's my Susan?"

He shrugged and helped me up. "Let's find out."

"Faygele!" I cried, as I ran to my granddaughter. "My little bird!" I held out my arms.

After a good hug, I introduced her to Nathan and she thanked him again for arranging the cab ride.

"I'm sorry I was late, Bubbe, Mr. Weiss. There was too much commotion on the roof, so I went downstairs to window-shop on Herzl Street and forgot the time.

"It's all right, Susa-le. I'm just so glad you're safe. Did you see a little something you want, maybe?"

Susan smiled at me. I knew that look. "Come on. Tell Bubbe."

"A fabulous skirt, Bubbe, all in black leather."

"Leather yet. A motorcycle gang you're joining, maybe?"

"Oh, Gram, it's not tacky. Honest. It's really cool."

I smiled. "Come. Show me. We'll have a look."

After finishing Susan's shopping, all three of us checked into the same hotel. The Dan. Mind you, Susan and I had one room and Nathan had another.

"You're not going to stay with your daughter, Nathan?"

He shook his head. "I'll pick up my things from her later, but she has her life; I have mine. I try not to interfere."

I nodded. I wouldn't have wanted to live with Judith.

"Since it's your first night in Israel, let me take you both to dinner."

"That would be lovely, Nathan, but to eat and run isn't so nice. I promised to visit old friends the moment I got in.

"I don't mind if you run, as long as I have you two beautiful women to keep me company at dinner."

Susan blushed.

"Thank you. Then we'll just go freshen up first," I said.

Nathan nodded.

The food, itself, wasn't much to speak of. I can cook better. But the company, now that was another matter. Nathan even managed to convince Susan that if she wanted to be a vet, she would need the summer chemistry classes her parents had paid for.

I think my Susan almost had a crush on Nathan, herself. She was quite excited when I decided we would both join his daughter's tour. Susan was even more excited when I called her school in England to arrange for her to miss the summer school welcome tea. It would give her an extra day or two.

I think Susan would rather have stayed with Nathan than have gone to visit Theodore and Deborah Ciss with me. But that well I didn't know him yet. So after dinner, Nathan helped us hail a cab, giving the driver the Ciss's address in Hebrew.

"Tell me, Susan," I said, once we were settled in the car. "You're sure you would really rather hang around an old Bubbe instead of touring Europe with your friends?"

"Oh, Bubbe, you're not old. And yes, I'd rather tour with you. Adrian isn't my best friend anymore."

"I don't think you mean that, Susa-le."

"I do. She's got this guy as her best friend now. She doesn't need me."

"A boy. What else?" I smiled.

"It wasn't that I was jealous, Bubbe, honest. I mean he was really cute, and he liked Adrian a lot. But she was the one who changed. She started doing everything with him. She even got her parents to invite him to go traveling with us for the whole summer. I couldn't stand the way she ignored me. I felt like a fifth wheel."

By now, Susan was in tears. I handed her my good handkerchief, the one I had embroidered with the violets, and put my arms around her.

"Don't worry, faygele, you're Bubbe's first wheel and I only have a bicycle!"

Susan laughed a little and returned my hug.

At the Cisses, Susan was not so disappointed after all. Their teenage niece, Claire, was visiting. The two of them went in another room to listen to records.

Theo and Deborah loved the perfume. Of course, they told me I shouldn't have done it, but I could tell they were glad I had. A little luxury is always welcome. It was a lovely visit, but quite late before I got up the nerve to ask about my brother, Albert.

"So, Theo, I've decided to try to find out more about my brother while I'm here." There was an uncomfortable silence when I finally put it into words.

"Are you sure you want to, Fanny?"

"Sure, I'm sure. Enough with not knowing. If my own brother was a gonif, stealing away our people's chance at independence during the war, better to know the truth."

Deborah gave me a look. Crazy she thought I was. But Theo must have understood.

"Just a moment, Fanny." He pulled a map from the desk. Bringing it back to the sofa, he pointed. "This kibbutz, Fanny, I know Albert spent some time there during the War for Independence." He held the map out to his wife, still pointing. "That's right, isn't it Deborah? Enin Hamisritz?"

Deborah looked at me, then nodded. "That's the kibbutz. My uncle was there earlier in the war."

"It's almost two hours north of Tel Aviv, Fanny. I'd loan you my car, but as you know, it's in the shop."

I waved him away. "A car I can rent. Peace of mind, I can't buy any cheaper." I called Susan. We said our good-byes, and Susan promised to write to Claire.

No sooner were we in the cab than Susan began nudging about the trip to Enin Hamisritz in the morning: "Honest Bubbe, I got top scores in my driver's training class. One-hundred percent on my test. I can drive us. Please?"

"From driving in England, you know only the wrong side of the road. Here they drive like at home."

"I can do it, Gram. Honestly. Come on. I practiced driving on the right when we were on the Continent at Passover."

I sighed. "Don't dray me Susan, enough pestering. I'll decide when the time comes." Actually, Susan was probably in better practice than I was, I thought, surprised at the idea. I had more experience, but I hadn't driven since just after Morris passed on. Such an expense it was, and the mechanic I had trusted had moved to Arizona. I got sick of being taken for a ride every time I needed work done on the old Chevy, so I gave it to my daughter for my grandson.

Susan sank back into the seat and looked glum.

"Now is not to pout," I scolded. "I told you we'll see."

By the time we reached the hotel, I was more than ready for bed. Despite the comfortable night in Amsterdam, the jet lag was still making me farfufket. Confusing it was, to be sleeping in Israel on Los Angeles time.

As we walked down the hall from the elevator, I stopped a moment. It looked as if the door to our room was open. Maybe the maid. But so late?

I quickened my step. I wanted to tell her to leave extra towels. I pushed the door the rest of the way. Such a shock.

"Gottenyu! Susan, stay back."
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