My brother became, in effect, the head of the family. As such, Jewish holiday dinners were held at his house. My father was invited and always showed up, though he struck me as unconvincing in the role of jolly grandpa to Lee's kids, Jonathan and Jaimie. When I asked Lee what he had told his children about the years when their grandfather wasn't around, he said he explained that their grandpa was out of the country, trying to start up a new business.

My mother was quietly impressive in the company of the man who had betrayed her and wrecked her life. Without any outward show of affection toward him, she nonetheless acted as if he had done nothing wrong. She might instruct Lee's wife Angie, for example, that Harry prefers his soup almost scalding hot and his beef medium well-done and that he can't stand gefilte fish. Although our apartment was on my father's way to Lee's house, my mother never asked him to pick us up on the way out, and she and I drove out together without him. Sometimes, upon departing Lee's house after one of these holiday dinners, my mother would offer her cheek to my father, and accept his kiss without the least show of emotion.