“You don’t even know what’s involved in all that. What it takes to make it happen. Because you’re never here,” she said

Shalva always thought it was weird that people wished the honorees mazel tov at a fundraising dinner. But it was even weirder to have people wishing her mazel tov.

“Thank you so much for coming,” Shalva said, trying to sound gracious. Layla was her neighbor, she had seven kids, and she had served them supper 45 minutes ago — Shalva knew this because Layla had sent four-year-old Moishy to borrow ketchup just as she was leaving. Shalva felt like apologizing for making her come out, but instead she just said, “It’s so nice that you came!”

“Of course,” Layla said, with an air-kiss. “Mazel tov!”

Shalva cringed.

Chevi laughed and nudged her. “Just relax,” she said. “They’re not honoring you, they’re honoring Mordy.”

“Yeah,” Shalva said.

“And he deserves it,” her mother said loyally.

“Yeah,” she said again. She guessed Mordy did deserve it — if not for him, there would be no Ohr Limud at all. He had started working with the boys as a para, straight out of kollel. And now, ten years later, look what he had built. Shalva glanced up at the large screens displaying the plans for the new Ohr Limud school building and resource center. What Mordy would build. If this dinner could raise enough money.

“Are you Mrs. Leitner?”

Shalva turned. The woman grasped her hand.

“I’m Dina Rubinoff, I’m so glad to meet you. Your husband is a tzaddik, mamash a tzaddik. He saved us… I always tell my husband, Rabbi Leitner has hatzlachah because he’s a mensch. He doesn’t just sit in an administrative ivory tower, he gets involved with the boys… He really cares…”

Shalva smiled and nodded.

“And he makes himself available at all hours… no matter how late it is…”

The smile tightened.

“Mazel tov, mazel tov.” Mrs. Rubinoff released her hand and bustled off.

Shalva’s phone buzzed.

It was Mordy. Can you meet me in the lobby?

That was weird. Wasn’t he busy shaking everyone’s hands and networking and whatever these dinners were for?

Coming.

She reached the glass doors and looked around, he wasn’t there. After a minute she heard a low commotion and saw him coming. It was slow going; he had to stop and talk to everyone he passed. She watched him approach. It was true, what people said. Mordy was special. He talked to each person as if there weren’t 20 other people hovering nearby for their turn, and he knew how to say something meaningful to each one.

When he was about 15 feet away, he caught her eye and lifted his hand in a wave. The people around him caught the exchange and melted away.

“How are you?” he said, grinning down at her.

“Good,” she said. He was waiting, so she added, “It’s beautiful. So many people came.”

His smiled widened. “Yeah,” he said. “Baruch Hashem. Listen, can we talk outside for a minute?”

She followed him as he walked a bit down the block. The noise from the hall faded, and he stopped between two pools of orange light.

“I have something for you.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a long, rectangular box.

It was a tennis bracelet. Shalva gaped.

“I could never do any of this without you,” he said, flashing the signature Mordy Leitner smile.

She lifted the bracelet out of the box and closed the clasp around her wrist. Even in the orange light from the streetlights, it glowed. “Thank you,” Shalva said.

It was quiet for a minute, then Mordy said, “I guess I’d better go back inside.”

She nodded and they started walking.

“Ah, Reb Mordche,” said a man passing.

Another man approached. “Rabbi Leitner,” he nodded, reaching for Mordy’s hand.

They were almost at the entrance. “One minute.” Mordy turned to Shalva. “I’ll probably need to be here very late,” he told her in a low voice. “Can you get a ride home with your mother?”

Shalva nodded and slipped back into the hall.