It would be the ultimate proof that Dini had no concept of how regular people lived

Dini sat down at the dining room table and flipped open her laptop. Against the odds and despite all logical conclusions at 7:45 this morning, the kids had miraculously gotten off to school semi on time. The cleaning lady, bless her, had also arrived semi on time, and was now in the kitchen, scrubbing the post-Shabbos counters. Even Shuki had sauntered off to his office, a shared workspace for frum men where, from what she could tell, he spent his days collecting the latest memes to send out to his friends, perfecting his paper-ball-into-wastebasket shot, and trying out the lunch specials in each of the Jerusalem restaurants.

Now it was time for her to get to work.

She flexed her hands, rolled back her shoulders, and straightened her back, imagining herself sitting in a corporate office. Like Eliana.

And you wondered what I do all day, she thought, still feeling the sting of her sister’s words. Maybe she wasn’t acquiring gazillion-dollar properties, but she was about to do something more important: raise money so that her best friend could support her family while running an organization that helps thousands of people.

Dini frowned. Thousands? It had an amazing ring to it, but it probably hadn’t been thousands of people. Hundreds? Dozens? How many families had they actually helped in the past six years? This was the type of information she needed to know before embarking on fundraising. She opened a new file, titled it “Fundraising for Chesed Tzirel” and typed, ask Ayala for stats on how many people helped.