David smiled back and nodded.
This was the kind of evening it would be.
By the time it was over, his face would ache from all this polite smiling.
"Yes," Mr. Strassmer continued. "I have heard a great deal about you. For a long time, I've wanted to meet you.
We both work for the same man, you know."
"The same man?"
"Yes." Mr. Strassmer nodded. "Jonas Cord.
You work for him in the movie business. I work for him in the plastics business.
We met your mother at shul last year when we went there for the High Holy Day services."
Mr. Strassmer smiled. "We got to talking and found that my wife, Frieda, was a second cousin to your father.
Both families came originally from Silesia." He swallowed the whisky in his glass. Again he coughed, and looked up at David through teary eyes. "A small world, isn't it?"
"A small world," David agreed.
His mother's voice came from behind him.
"So, nu, it's time to sit down to supper already and where's this friend?"
"He should be here any minute, Mama."
"Seven o'clock you told him?" his mother asked suspiciously. David nodded. "So why isn't he here?
Don't he know when it's time to eat, you should eat or everything gets spoiled?"
Just then the doorbell rang and David heaved a sigh of relief.
"Here he is now, Mama," he said, starting for the door.
The fall, good-looking young man who stood in the doorway was nothing like the thin, intense, dark-eyed boy he remembered.
In place of the sharp, beaklike proboscis that had earned him his nickname was a fine, almost aquiline nose that contrasted handsomely with his wide mouth and lantern-like jaw.
He smiled when he saw David's startled expression.
"I went to a face factory and had it fixed. It wouldn't look good I should walk around Beverly Hills with an East Side nose." He held out his hand. "It's good to see you, Davy."
David took his hand. The grip was firm and warm.
"Come on in," he said. "Mama's ready to bust.
Dinner's ready."
They went into the living room.
Mr. Strassmer got to his feet and his mother looked at Needlenose suspiciously.
David glanced around quickly.
Rosa was not in the room.
"Mama," he said. "You remember Irving Schwartz?"
"Hello, Mrs. Woolf."
"Yitzchak Schwartz," she said.
"Sure I remember. What happened to your nose?"
"Mama," David protested.
Needlenose smiled.
"That's all right, David.
I had it fixed, Mrs. Woolf."
"A mishegass. With such a small nose, it's a wonder you can breathe.
You got a job, Yitzchak?" she demanded belligerently. "Or are you still hanging around with the bums by Shocky's garage?"
"Mama!" David said quickly. "Irving lives out here now."
"So it's Irving now." His mother's voice was angry. "Fixing his nose is not enough. His name, too, he's got to fix.
What's wrong with the name your parents gave you – Isidore – hah?"
Needlenose began to laugh. He looked at David.
"I see what you mean," he said. "Nothing's changed. Nothing's wrong with it, Mrs. Woolf. Irving's easier to spell."
"You'd finish school like my son, David," she retorted, "it shouldn't be so hard to spell."
"Come on, Mrs. Woolf. David promised me knaidlach.
I couldn't wait; all day I was so hungry thinking about it."
Mrs. Woolf stared at him suspiciously.
"You be a good boy, now," she said, somewhat mollified, "and every Friday you come for knaidlach.''