He didn’t even do his usual Matzav, weather forecast, Yeshiva World ritual. Instead he went straight to Chase

A

t 11 o’clock on Tuesday morning, Shuey Portman parked outside the yeshivah building. The thick blanket of snow made the familiar view — the long, low building, the sloping lawn, the basketball court, and path down to the road — seem different, like it was a new campus.

The tree branches hung low under the snow’s weight, and Shuey walked carefully, leaving footprints in the soft white carpet as he headed to the building, lifting his wheelie off the ground so as not to track snow inside.

He peeked into the beis medrash, enjoying the sound of a heated first seder, the very boys with whom he’d sat in a studio three days earlier completely engaged in learning. See? The song was purely a bein hasedorim recreation, he thought, there was no bittul Torah here. Either it will make it or it’ll flop — either way, these boys will be learning, he told himself as he headed toward his office.

He hung up his jacket on a hook behind the door, promising, as he had so many times before, that he would put up a normal rack with a hanger so that his jacket didn’t have to get creased. The yeshivah executives who got invited to speak in Florida didn’t leave their jackets draped on flimsy hooks like wet bathing suits, he knew.

But there were bigger issues than his jacket. The first of the month was coming and the bills were due. Taxes, insurance, and salaries. He owed the caterer money and Ephraim had a few hundred dollars in gas receipts for driving the Rosh Yeshivah’s children to Monsey.

Shuey turned on the computer, fully expecting there to be some money in the account. A few of the parents paid tuition by automatic deposit. And the Rosh Yeshivah had solicited a bit over the weekend — the checks sat in a neat pile on Shuey’s desk, ready for deposit.

He didn’t even do his usual Matzav, weather forecast, Yeshiva World ritual. Instead he went straight to Chase.

He looked at the balance, closed his eyes, and shook his head, as if to clear the cobwebs and looked again. It was still there: a balance of $21,348.00. Something was off, he realized, certain that it was a mistake. There should have been about three thousand dollars, maybe a bit more.

He clicked off the site, then took a deep breath and started again. Chase. Username and password. Enter.

Balance: $21,348.00.

Okay.

He checked the statement and saw the yeshivah had received a wire transfer of $18,000.00 from TORAH SUPPORT GROWTH FUND.

He frowned. He’d never heard the name before. A Google search showed nothing. This was strange.

He got up and headed back toward the beis medrash.