“Mrs. Edelman, sorry to disturb, but I wanted to make sure I caught you. Can you please stop in at my office before you leave?”

Chava felt her face burning as she walked through the school hall. Was it just her imagination, or were all the girls staring at her? Keeping her gaze trained straight ahead, she headed into her classroom.

The buzz of conversation stopped immediately.

Stop being paranoid. She frowned at herself as she placed her books on her desk. Devoiry had told her clearly that this fundraising campaign was being kept private. Just ZeeZee and one or two more girls. Why should she imagine that she was now the talk of the entire school?

Chava looked up and the faces of 20 girls gazed back at her with unusually rapt attention.

Because you’ve been teaching seminary girls for 30 years. And you know very well that you are the talk of the entire school.

She cleared her throat and tried to stand up, but her knees felt shaky. The faces in front of her seemed to be filled with pity. And embarrassment. And, most of all, suppressed curiosity. All it would take, she realized, would be one intrepid girl to raise her hand and ask, “Mrs. Edelman, is it true that your daughter’s in trouble with the Mafia?”

And all of the respect, the dignity, the pedestal that she’d worked so hard to stand on for 30 years as a teacher and exemplar of a Torah life — all of it would crumble in an instant.

For the first time in her career, Chava didn’t feel capable of teaching.

The silence in the classroom was broken by the squeak of the door opening. Rabbi Freund stuck his head inside.

“Mrs. Edelman, sorry to disturb, but I wanted to make sure I caught you. Can you please stop in at my office before you leave?”