Read Online The Sunset Gang by Warren Adler - Free Book Online

quickly, doughnut poised in
mid-air, dripping coffee drops on the front page of The New York Times .
    "He okay?"
    "I think so. I'm feeling a little pang of guilt, I
guess. Haven't seen him for nearly two years. It's a light week anyway. What
the hell? It's only a day."
    "Nice Jewish boys," she said sprightly, a broad
smile breaking.
    Was she as concerned? What did the abortion mean to her? He
wanted to ask, but felt himself waiting for something, a message, a signal. It
never came, only the brief rustle of the paper as she turned the page.
    He followed the directions and finally recognized his
father's street, confirming the numbers. Mr. Weintraub lived on the upper story
of the two-story building. After parking the car, he took off his jacket and,
holding the loop, swung it over one shoulder. As he stood before the green door
waiting to rap the door knocker, he wondered why his heart was beating so fast.
He'll go straight through the roof, he smiled, banging on the knocker.
    He heard a movement inside, the shuffling, and the door was
opened slowly. A gray-haired woman in a flowered house dress stood before him,
waiting for a response.
    "I'm sorry." He stepped back to look again at the
number on the door. "I must have got it wrong somehow. I'm having a devil
of a time finding my father's place."
    "Who?" She seemed a little hard of hearing.
    "Morris Weintraub."
    "Morris?"
    He heard a toilet flush and a door click open.
    "You called me, Ida?" He heard his father's voice
from inside the apartment. Then his father was beside the woman, looking at
him, squinting into his eyes.
    "Pop." Harold moved beside him and kissed him on
the cheek. The old man grabbed his forearm.
    "Harold." He seemed beside himself with joy. He looked
at the woman beside him. "This is my Harold."
    He felt a long pause, a hesitation, as he stood in the
center of the living room, knowing that his father was assembling his thoughts,
preparing himself as he had seen him do over the years.
    "This is Mrs. Schwartzman," the older man said,
stumbling over his words. The woman's hands fluttered as she smoothed her house
dress.
    "I'll make some coffee." She moved into the
little kitchen, visible through the lattice doors over the countertop and
busied herself with the coffeemaking, loudly enough to assure them that she was
not listening.
    Harold had, of course, drawn his conclusions instantly. The
uncommon articles and photographs in the room offered confirmation.
    "I was actually passing through on business," Harold
said, noting that despite his tan, old age was setting its mask on his father's
face.
    "I hadn't expected--" Mr. Weintraub began looking
through the shutters that separated the kitchen from the living room.
    "I can see," Harold said, unable to hide his sarcasm,
instantly regretful. Why should it annoy me? he asked himself. A twitch in his
father's cheek signaled the older man's displeasure, a sign of his special kind
of seething nature, which Harold had observed in their early life together.
They sat silently for a while until Mrs. Schwartzman brought their coffee and
put it on the cocktail table.
    "I promised the Fines," she said, forcing a
smile. The smile was tight, too ingratiating. He noted that her lips trembled.
    "No, really, Mrs.--" Harold said.
    "Schwartzman," his father quickly said.
    "I promised. Besides you should have a little time
together." She took her pocketbook from the top of the television set.
    "You'll come back soon, Ida?"
    He could see the extent of his father's anxiety now,
feeling pity.
    "I'll be back in a couple of hours. You know Molly.
She likes to talk and poor Sam can't talk back."
    They watched as the door closed and the father reached for
his coffee with a shaking hand.
    "I would have explained," the older man said
after he had sipped and shakily replaced the coffee cup. "Who expected you
to walk in like this?"
    "I think it's terrific, Pop. I really do." He
reached out and touched his father's sleeve. "It's just hit me