“Papa, you mentioned retirement. Are you really thinking about it? What will you do?”

September 1964

IN the silence that followed his unexpected pronouncement, Annie stared at her father. He still had that slight smile and — could it be? — there was a spark of something that she almost suspected was mischief in his dark eyes.

Mischief? Papa? Impossible: You’re imagining things.

“Moishe Baruch, did you think I didn’t notice that the boarders were no longer coming, and that the neighborhood was changing? I was a bookkeeper once, remember? I know when a business is in the red.”

So Papa had known all along.

“I’ve been thinking about retirement for some time now,” he continued, looking squarely at Moe. “I was going to wait until after our happy event, b’shaah toivah” — here he smiled at Annie, not in mischief, but in profound joy — “to discuss it with you. But since you’re bringing it up, Moishe Baruch, if you wish it, you can stay on as manager of the hotel after I leave. But—”

Here Moe finally interrupted. “Papa, I don’t want to stay here.” And he described the Manor House Hotel, listing all the reasons why it made sense to buy the property, while Abe brought him up to date on the Levine family’s relocation plans.

Yeruchum was interested and encouraging, and as the talk turned financial, Annie was free to examine her thoughts at this surprising turn of events. How wonderful: No machlokes, no bad feelings after all. Yes, she should have known that Papa, with his clear vision, would have realized that the hotel was no longer viable and would have accepted the change as inevitable.

Change. So much change in this past eventful year. A son in the army, on his way to a war zone. Saying goodbye to one home and moving to another. A child, married, with a child of her own. And, of course, a new baby, one who — she winced a little — was making his or her presence felt quite strongly, with kicks that filled her with awe and happiness and a tiny flash of anxiety.

Baruch Hashem, I will have my family with me when I finally get to hold my little one.

Something suddenly struck her, something Papa had said. She turned to her father and once again noticed that unusual glint in his eye.

“Papa, you mentioned retirement. Are you really thinking about it? What will you do?”

“Don’t worry about me, mein kindt. A Yid always has something to do. Ratzon Hashem.”

And with that, Annie had to be satisfied.

But she wondered.