Rabbi Levinson tried to be brave. “Why don’t we all say some Tehillim,” he said.

Yitzy’s mouth dropped open as he studied the building’s lobby. This lobby seemed to be bigger than his yeshivah’s dining room. The walls were made of polished gold marble. Beautiful crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. One wall of the lobby held a long row of elevators. Yitzy counted 15 of them. The building the Levinsons’ lived in had two elevators. He couldn’t imagine why this building needed so many. Rabbi Levinson motioned for his wife and son to follow him.

“We’re going up to the 50th floor,” he whispered to them.

“Fiftieth floor?” cried Yitzy loudly. Then he turned red when he heard his cry echo off the high polished ceiling. He quickly covered his mouth with his hand and followed his parents into one of the many elevators.

Once inside the elevator, Rabbi Levinson pushed a button that had a number 50 on it.

The elevator door closed, and it began zooming upward. Yitzy felt his ears pop. He grabbed tightly onto the handrail attached to the elevator wall.

Suddenly, the elevator came to a stop. The elevator doors slowly slid open. A dazed Rabbi and Mrs. Levinson walked out, followed by an equally dazed Yitzy. Two large glass doors stood before them. On the doors, written in bold, black letters, were the words “Greentree Management Company”.

Rabbi Levinson pushed the doors open, and they all walked in.

“Wow!” gasped Yitzy, as he looked around the office. The floor was covered with a thick white carpet. Many large, stuffed couches sat along the walls of the room. From the ceiling hung crystal chandeliers, even bigger than the ones he had seen in the lobby.

People wearing very fancy suits, holding very important looking papers, were busily rushing around in every possible direction. Down a hallway, Yitzy could see rows of very polished doors that obviously opened into important offices.

Facing the Levinsons was a very large wooden desk. Behind it sat a secretary. “Can I help you?” she asked.

Rabbi Levinson held up the letter that he had found on their doorstep. “Yes,” he answered. “We’re the Levinsons, and we were told to appear here, to speak to a lawyer.”

The secretary glanced down at the letter, then looked up again. Her eyes opened wide in surprise. “Oh,” she said. “You’re the Levinsons. We’ve been expecting you.”

The woman quickly made her way out from behind her desk.

“Follow me,” she said. “You will be meeting with Mr. Blum, in his office.”

The Levinsons nervously followed the woman to one of the office doors.

On the door, in gold lettering, were the words, “Herbert J. Blum,  Attorney-at-Law.”

Yitzy read the words. “What does attorney mean?” he whispered to his mother.

“It means lawyer,” she whispered back.

“Oh,” said Yitzy.

The secretary knocked once on the door, then opened it. Inside, was a very long, polished wooden table surrounded by ten chairs. The secretary motioned toward the chairs. “Have a seat,” she said. “Mr. Blum will be with you soon.”

As the secretary left the room, the Levinsons walked over to the table and sat down.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this,” said Mrs. Levinson.

Rabbi Levinson tried to be brave. “Why don’t we all say some Tehillim,” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two small Tehillims. He handed one to Yitzy and opened the other one himself. Mrs. Levinson reached into her pocket book, and pulled out her own Tehillim. The three of them immediately began whispering the holy words with great feeling.

A few minutes later, the office door opened and in walked the most unusual-looking man Yitzy had ever seen. The man was a foot shorter than Rabbi Levinson, and the only way to describe his shape was “round.” He was wearing a black three-piece suit with a bright red bow tie.

The man didn’t seem to notice the Levinsons. He was busy looking through a large stack of papers in his hand.

Finally, he finished reading the papers, straightened them, and put them down at the head of the table. It was then that he seemed to notice the Levinsons for the first time.

He looked up at them, then looked back down at the papers. After a few more minutes, he took off his glasses and began rubbing them vigorously with the front of his shirt. He held his glasses up to the light to see if they were clean, put them back on again, and studied the members of the Levinson family sitting before him.

“Aha,” he said quietly to himself. “Interesting. Very interesting.”

Yitzy watched the man study the members of his family. Why was he staring at them like that?

Rabbi Levinson popped out of his seat and with a friendly smile, stuck out his hand toward the man. “Hello,” he said, “my name is Shaya Levinson.” He turned to Mrs. Levinson. “This is my wife,” he said. Then, he turned to Yitzy. “And this is my son Yitzy.”

The round man’s eyes lit up when he heard Yitzy’s name. He turned to stare at Yitzy,

“Aha,” he said, as his head bobbed up and down. “Yitzy… Hmmm. Very interesting… very interesting.”

The man sat himself down at the head of the table, facing the Levinsons.

“Listen, sir,” said Rabbi Levinson, “I’m really sorry about the rent. By tomorrow, b’ezras Hashem, I should have the money ready to pay the rent we owe you. Will that be okay? Can we go home now?”

The man looked at Rabbi Levinson, then pulled off his glasses and began nervously wiping them on the front of his shirt again.

“Rent?” he asked loudly. “Did you really think we called you all the way here to talk about your late rent payment?”

Rabbi Levinson grew even more nervous.

“You mean we did something even worse than missing our rent payment?” he asked with panic in his voice.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the man, “but I am not at liberty to tell you anything, until Mr. Burtman arrives.”

“Who?” asked a surprised Rabbi Levinson.

“Mr. Burtman should be here very soon,” said the man, “and when he arrives, I will explain everything.”

The man went back to studying the papers on the desk in front of him.

The Levinsons all turned to look at each other. “Tehillim,” whispered Rabbi Levinson.

His wife and son both nodded their heads. Seconds later, they were all whispering the words of Tehillim even more intensely than before.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 766)