The crowd quieted. Yochi reached for a bentsher. “I’m impressed with Berkowitz,” he told Pessie quietly. “He handled it so well”

The main course was finally served, and everything was perfectly hot. Three cheers, Mr. Berkowitz, Pessie thought with a touch of pride.

But the food wouldn’t stay hot for long. Where was Yochi?

She didn’t see him anywhere in the succah tent. He was probably still in the kitchen, or talking to Binick, or to Berkowitz, or to any one of the tour staff, who knew?

She picked up her fork and ate a few bites. Filet mignon, what could be bad? She tried some of the honey-roasted rainbow carrots, fed Motti a few spoons of mashed potatoes. Yochi still hadn’t returned.

Her girls appeared and she made sure everyone ate something before they disappeared again.

Yochi still wasn’t back when dessert rolled out — a surprisingly basic apple crisp and ice cream. Pessie dug her spoon in half-heartedly.

It was only after the waiter cleared her table — “Yes, I guess you can take that,” she said when they questioned her about Yochi’s untouched plate — that her husband came rushing over.

“Phew! Another meal, another miracle.” He was panting. “Was everything hot? Was the crowd impatient?”

“Everything was hot, the crowd was fine,” she answered coolly.

From the center of the succah, they heard someone banging on the table. “Rabbosai, mir vellen bentshen!” Mr. Lieberman’s voice boomed.

The crowd quieted. Yochi reached for a bentsher. “I’m impressed with Berkowitz,” he told Pessie quietly. “He handled it so well.”

Pessie didn’t say anything, just turned the page in her bentsher.

As soon as he finished bentshing, Yochi shot to his feet again. “Mind you, all I ate was a k’zayis of challah. But anyway, see you later, gut Yom Tov.”

He didn’t bother telling her where he was going. What exactly did he have to do now? The meal was over, the afternoon program was starting at four thirty. Did he have to stand over the cleaning crew as they wiped down the counters?

The crowd began to disperse, and Pessie made her way to the lobby. She sat in the corner of one of the sofas and watched as couples entered through the back doors, one after another. Most were headed off to their rooms for a Yom Tov nap, she guessed, but one couple paused to admire the waterfall, some strolled outside through the manual door to the great Corvara outdoors. Pessie pictured herself filling her lungs with the crystal-clear air, heels clicking over the paved paths, a breeze whipping through her sheitel as they chatted about nothing and everything.

…as they chatted…

They?