Then I went in through the main entrance and received the standard greeting from Karen, wanting to know if she could help me in any way. I asked her about Finian Quill. “Gee, I’m sorry but I don’t think Finian’s here right now. Can someone else help you?” I said I’d see Mr. Bernstein instead and already knew the way. The grand ballroom staircase to the second floor was empty as I climbed it. Only a smattering of customers browsed among the dining room sets on the second floor and the bedrooms on the third. As I moved through the padded swinging doors on the fourth, Joel Bernstein was just coming out of the men’s room, hitching his suit pants a little against the suspenders. He stopped hitching as soon as he saw me. “You’re back?” “Afraid so.” Bernstein ran a hand through the black clots on his head. “Look, I’m sorry I got kind of hot at you there.” “It happens. Forget it.” “No, really. I know you’re not trying to rip off Pearl or anything, it’s just that the pressure around here, me trying to do it all.
