“The guy’s name was Pollack. Micky Pollack,” Tamar said slowly, looking intently at Marissa. “Do you know him?”

“Gut Shabbos, Gut Shabbos, kinderlach.” Ruchy leaned over her Israeli grandchildren. She deposited kisses on the little ones’ cheeks, then laughed as she rose up on her toes to reach the two big boys, Yehuda and Shloimy. “These boys are getting so big. Real yeshivah bochurim! And very handsome, too.”

She gently straightened Shloimy’s tie. “So are you still finding some time for your guitar while you turn into a real masmid, like your father and big brother?”

Shloimy blushed. “I have to run… Minchah…” he muttered.

“Go, go,” Ruchy said. She head to the couch, watching approvingly as Miriam brought in the salads Perri was dishing out in the kitchen. “Beautiful table, Perri. So Shabbosdig.”

“Thank you, Mommy.” Perri had finished her work in the kitchen. She sank into the love seat. “Chaya Rivky loved the mushroom salad last time she was here, so I wanted to make it again.”

“Hmm, good idea, to have salad for a seminary girl,” Ruchy said, lips pursed. “Mindy forwarded me some pictures of Chaya Rivky on one of her tiyulim… looks like their seminary could learn some salad recipes from you.”

“Chaya Rivky would much rather have cookies,” Simi said with inconvenient nine-year-old candor. “Every time she comes here, she wants to bake. She made the best chocolate chip cookies for my siyum!”

“I’m sure she did.” Ruchy’s mouth got even tighter. “Where is she, Perri? Isn’t she supposed to be coming for the meal?”

“She’ll be here soon, her dorm is just twenty minutes away. In the meanwhile, Mommy, why don’t you tell us about that artist you met this morning? It sounded so interesting.”

“It was! Miriam, Simi, you know that spot on the staircase landing in our house, you can see it from downstairs even though it’s halfway upstairs — I decided it could really use a nice painting. But not one of those typical impressionist paintings of the Yerushalayim skyline, with the gold accents. Something a little different.”

Miriam nodded.

“So someone recommended an artist, this fascinating woman who studied with — wait, is that a knock?”