Nechama suddenly realized where the story was going. Moishy hadn’t retired, he had died

Nechama, unused to being the center of attention, was leaving the health club when she sensed that a woman was staring at her. This went on for a full minute, until Nechama reached the door of her car, where the unfamiliar woman stopped her.

“Sorry, Mrs. Stanger?”

“Yes.” Nechama, post exercise, not really down for a chat, tried to smile pleasantly. “Stagler, it is. Good morning.”

“Um, thank you for letting your husband take that position, we’ve been waiting for someone to come make seder. I’m sure it’s not easy. Anyhow, can we talk for a minute?”

Feeling confident, Nechama nodded politely. “Sure, can we meet at my home in half an hour, I’ll be happy to prepare coffee. Just tell me how you like it.”

It wasn’t the warmest response, but she wasn’t going to let Reuven’s new hobby swallow her life.

Precisely half an hour later — like, to the minute — the unfamiliar woman walked up the path to 105 Wimbledon Loop and Nechama panicked. This was so not her.

Mrs. Aliza Weinhandler had clearly prepared her presentation, but a few minutes in, once she realized that Nechama was a listener, she relaxed and started to speak more informally.

“All the years, me and Moishy were a team, we did everything together. We ran a business together, working in the office all day, then coming home and taking care of the family. People laughed at us — make other friends, they would say — but Moishy always told me they were just jealous. Every night, once the house was quiet we would go walking together, and you know what? We never ran out of things to talk about. I read these magazine articles about young couples today, how they’re bored, how men need their friends and women need theirs, and I want to scream. It’s not true.”

Nechama nodded, unsure what to respond. She and Reuven also went walking, but they both had other friends and that was a nice thing, she thought.

The woman across from her sat very straight, holding a coffee mug but not drinking at all, and Nechama suddenly realized where the story was going. Moishy hadn’t retired, he had died. She knew this with certainty, even before her new friend continued speaking.