Bracha raised a floury eyebrow. “If you’re coming to me for community gossip, you’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel. I’m not in the know about anything.”

Ayala rolled her eyes. Was Bracha being purposely dense? “Not community. And not gossip,” she added, slightly annoyed. Since when was she interested in gossip? “I’m talking about Dini’s fundraiser.”

Bracha’s fingers dug into the dough, folding, turning. After a moment, she said, “What do you want to know?”

Ayala stared at her stiffened back. Was Bracha feeling uncomfortable?

She took a breath. “Is it true that the campaign is being promoted by big foodie influencers?”

“Only one, as far as I know,” Bracha said calmly. “Zeesie Stark. Apparently, Dini is buddies with her. She came to your opening volunteer event, I think?” She gave another pound to her dough.

Ayala closed her eyes, picturing a lady with a too-long black sheitel and a too-perky voice smiling brightly into the video camera as the young newlyweds goggled around her. She gritted her teeth. “So Chesed Tzirel is becoming a trending social media sensation. Lovely.”

“If you’re lucky,” Bracha said with a laugh.

Ayala snorted. “Sure. Because that’s just the image I want for my organization.” She clenched her hands in her lap. “And… is it also true that we’re putting out a music video?”

Bracha shot her a glance over her shoulder. “Uh, yes. It’s just about ready, from what I understand. Dini’s worked really hard on it.”

“I see,” Ayala said quietly, while her thoughts exploded inside. A music video! A tune, lyrics, actors, video script, setting, message! This was about to be released to the world, the global premiere of Chesed Tzirel… without her input?

She stood up and paced the kitchen. Bracha washed and dried her hands and turned around, watching Ayala.

“And — don’t tell me — it’s going to be a flashy, pumped-up, pop-music-style video with people jumping up and down shouting ‘Chesed Tzirel, Chesed Tzirel!’ And maybe some influencer’s cooking demo while we’re at it.”

“Yup, that’s it,” Bracha said sarcastically. “Because Dini has the marketing finesse of a sledgehammer.”

Ayala stopped pacing and released her breath. “So what is it, then?”

“I only heard the final song once, but it was beautiful. Melodious. Heart-stirring,” Bracha waved her hands in the air. “Ouch, that sounds cheesy, but it’s not. Really. It’s classy and elegant and hits your emotions in the right spot. It’s, y’know, Dini. I think her husband was involved, too,” she added.

Ayala rubbed her forehead. Bracha was right. She could trust Dini’s and Shuki’s savvy. Whatever they produced would be supremely appropriate for the audience and the brand.

Still…. Somehow, Dini’s great social savvy did not extend to Ayala, her best friend. How in the world could she think Ayala would want to be kept in the dark about all of this?

“Well, I’m glad that you’re in the know. While I had to get my information from my sister-in-law.”

She saw Bracha wince. “Yup,” Ayala continued, her voice rising, “apparently Shaina’s more up on my organization than I am.”

Bracha reached out a conciliating hand, but Ayala ignored it. “Dini doesn’t seem to be keeping you out of the loop. Only me.” She breathed heavily, clenching her fists hard in an effort to control her anger. “What am I saying? You were probably involved in planning this campaign, right? The two of you worked on it together, while I was sitting clueless in New York.”

“No, we didn’t,” Bracha said quietly. “Dini did it all herself. And she’s been working extremely hard, I might add.”

“I’m sure she has.” Ayala shot a suspicious look at Bracha. This was new, Bracha defending Dini. She swallowed. Was this the new alignment? Bracha and Dini against Ayala?

Don’t be ridiculous, she immediately rebuked herself. No one’s against anyone. You’re all on the same team.

“Can I ask you something?” Bracha said slowly. “You knew Dini was running this campaign. What, exactly, were you expecting?”

Ayala shrugged. Truth be told, she hadn’t really thought about it; she’d been so busy with her parents’ affairs, and had just been happy to know someone else was worrying about fundraising. Squirming a bit at the realization, she said, “I don’t know. Some quiet, simple, plain vanilla fundraiser. Y’know, rope in a few big donors, call up a bunch of smaller ones, reach your modest goal.”

“In other words, your style,” Bracha said. “But not Dini’s. Don’t you think you should have known that?”

Ayala chewed on that one for a moment. Yes, maybe. But— “Don’t you think Dini should have known what I wanted? Shouldn’t she have taken my desires into consideration, too?” The hurt bubbled up once more. “At the end of the day, this is my organization!”

Dini chuckled as she read her emails. She’d sent out the ambassador page links yesterday and three different volunteers wanted to know why the link wasn’t working when their relative/friend/contact had tried to donate.

And the campaign was still two weeks away!

She quickly typed an email.

Hello most awesome volunteers in the world!

To all you cool people who have ALREADY started soliciting donations TWO WEEKS EARLY

I want to clarify that the links I sent you yesterday are not yet live.

Keep it up. We’re gonna rock this!

She added a whole row of emojis and pressed send.

Still smiling, she turned back to the individual emails. One of them was from Sarale, of course. The girl was clearly determined to win this competition. Dini’s smile faded. She was way too obsessed with money. How disappointed would she be if she didn’t win? And how long would it take her to start kvetching to her husband that she still needed a vacation; okay, maybe not a Swiss chalet, but couldn’t they find some cheap Airbnb in the Alps?

Dini stood up, frowning. She foresaw lots of emergency mentoring sessions when this campaign was over. Maybe it was time she reached out to Rebbetzin Greenblatt and got some actual training in this mentoring gig?

Ha, in my nonexistent time for my nonexistent job. Although Shuki would respond that it was time she started thinking of this as a real job and charging for it.

Dini sat back down in front of the computer and broke out in a grin as she saw the new email in her inbox. Yes! The video was ready! She immediately clicked it open, leaning forward intently. There were the opening strains of the music; there was the close-up shot of two hands gripping each other, which slowly zoomed out onto a patient and visitor in a hospital room as the song progressed.

All it takes is one voice to say, “I care.”

All it takes is one hand reaching out to say, “I’m here…”

Dini gripped the edge of the desk as she felt excitement building inside. This looked so beautiful! So professional! She couldn’t wait to show it to Shuki.

Then, a prick of doubt. Was this as wow as she thought? She’d viewed the video so many times already, she was no longer objective. She needed, she decided, to show it to a fresh pair of eyes and see their reaction.

Sarale?

She quickly vetoed the idea. Sarale was a doll, but she would gush over the video just because Dini was behind it. Besides, this first viewing felt too big, too momentous, to share with only Sarale.

Dini stood up slowly. Ayala, of course. She was the obvious person. And if the thought of how awkward it would be for her to first reveal the existence of this music video, and then explain why she hadn’t felt it necessary to mention to Ayala until now, made Dini want to remain cowering in her apartment, well, tough luck, girl. Ayala was going to find out soon enough regardless; the news needed to come from her first and that meant pronto.

Decisively, Dini folded up her laptop and grabbed her purse. She would do this right; she would drive out to RBS.

Ayala, wheeling Levi’s stroller back from his daycare, squinted at the car driving into her parking lot — and the blonde lady driving it.

She stopped walking. Dini?

Dini was laughing as she hopped out of her car and ran over to Ayala. “Surprise!” She gave Ayala a hug. “I missed you! It’s so good to have you back!”

Ayala felt her resentment from this morning melt away in Dini’s hug; how could she stay angry when Dini seemed so genuinely happy to see her? Maybe this had all been one big misunderstanding?

“It’s good to be back,” Ayala grinned. “And I’m flattered you came all the way out here just to tell me that.”

“Yeah, well, that and I have a surprise for you.”

Ayala eyed her warily. “A Shabbos in the Waldorf?”

Dini burst out laughing — a little too loudly. Ayala’s wariness increased.

“No. Though that’s one of our fundraising prizes, so hey, you never know.”

Ayala turned to her sharply. “One of our what?”

“Fundraising prizes,” she said brightly. “Y’know, prizes to motivate our ambassadors to collect more money. We have prizes for the highest collector, for anyone who solicits over ten thousand dollars, raffle entries for every thousand raised… and they’re valuable prizes, too.”

“I would never suspect you of anything else.” But Ayala smiled as she said it, even as she turned the idea over in her mind. Expensive rewards? She didn’t like it, on many levels. But she was willing to admit that it would probably work.

“Sounds like you have quite a lot to tell me,” she said as she led Dini into the elevator.

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 905)