ASsoon as he left Baruch’s house, he listened to Libby’s voice note.

Remember you were so impressed with this school Daddy’s on the board of? Some small place that was trying way too hard but sounded incredible? What was it called again? Keser something or other? What about sending Deena there? Or at least look into it.

He pounded on the steering wheel in excitement. Yes! He’d loved that place. He’d raved about it to Libby. Shoots, what was it called?

He made a mental note to ask Yosef, then remembered that Yosef didn’t work for him anymore. He was now assigned to someone else at Frankel Construction. Probably baby Menashe.

He also had the sudden realization that he had no idea where he was going. It was 2 p.m. on a Monday, and he had nowhere to be.

Well, then.

He pulled onto a side street to search through his old messages, trying to find his conversation with Libby about that school. No luck.

He scrolled, trying to remember some context. It had been a Sunday night; he remembered there had been no work…. Binny had had the flu…. It would come to him eventually, maybe he needed to stop straining to remember.

He looked around the street he’d pulled onto, and whistled, impressed at the modern structures towering over the quiet street. Last he’d been here, little yellow bungalows with peeling gates and overgrown lawns had lined both sides of the street.

He parked at the corner and hopped out of the car to stretch.

A guy walking a Corgi passed by. “Nice car,” he said appreciatively.

“Thanks,” Akiva said. “Nice houses. Do you live here?”

The man laughed. “I wish. Nah, these are all flipped. Amazing, no? Some are still for sale, but most have been snatched up. Good for the flippers, right?”

Akiva looked at the man. “Right…”

“Iwant to flip houses,” he told Libby excitedly, banging through the door.

In the back of his mind, he noticed appreciatively how nice it was not to feel like he was encroaching on Vanessa’s territory, on her schedule with the kids. This was his house, and he could bang the door open if he wanted to.

“Don’t bang,” Libby said.

Oh, well.

“House flipping? I thought we were working on a school for Deena.”

“We were,” Akiva said, taking off his jacket. “We are. But we also actually need parnassah.”

The muscles in Libby’s jaw twitched, but she said nothing.

“So how about house flipping?” he asked.

“Do you know anything about house flipping?”

“Nope,” Akiva said cheerfully. “But I’ll learn.”

Turned out, Libby’s old seminary roommate’s sister’s husband was a huge house flipper out in Texas, and he said Akiva could call him. They set up a Zoom meeting.

It went well, but the whole time the guy kept giving him funny looks, like, “Why on earth would you be interested in this, when you can buy any house you want, flip it over ten times, and then buy it again?”

Akiva felt no need to share his personal life with the husband of Libby’s roommate’s sister. Awkward it may have been, but at least he learned a lot.

Akiva thumbed through his contacts. Who would go splits with him on this house?

The broker he’d hired, Tuvia, found him the perfect property. Now he just needed something he’d never really needed before: money.

Ahh, Koffman. Perfect choice. New money, plotzing to be part of the old money world.

Akiva sent him a voice note. Hey, Koff, Akiva here. Wondering how you’d feel going half and half on this great ranch house I found over by Palms. I wanna do a flip on it. Think of that, eh. Figured you’d be the perfect partner. Let me know.

Koffman listened to the note, Akiva could see the receipt, but no reply all through the afternoon. Then, just as he was going to Minchah, his phone pinged.

Hey Akiva, great to hear from you. Uh, interesting idea about the house flip. I’d be in but, uh, weren’t you disowned or something?

Akiva almost went flying through a red.

He hit call.

“I was not disowned,” he spat, before Koffman even said hello. “I walked away. I’m looking to go my own way. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Koffman laughed nervously. “Well, it is my business if you want my business. And disowned or walked away, it all sounds a little risky. Sorry, Frankel. Not interested. But hatzlachah rabbah.”

Forget house flipping, Akiva thought glumly as he pulled into a parking spot, he should be a magician. Watch all my connections disappear, he thought. Poof.

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 978)