“Bet I jump the highest! Who wants to show me how to get to there?”

Luckily, the backyard was empty, and they spent the next half hour bouncing and giggling. They gasped in awe when ZeeZee did a flip and were begging for another one when a voice behind them said, “Hah, that’s nothing. Wanna see what I can do?”

ZeeZee turned to see a girl standing next to the trampoline, smirking. ZeeZee frowned. The girl spoke perfect American English, but looked Israeli — like a Bais Yaakov high school girl, but something was off. Her shirt was opened a bit too low, her skirt was a bit too high, and ZeeZee was pretty sure Israeli Bais Yaakov girls didn’t wear that much makeup.

ZeeZee hopped off the trampoline. “Yeah, I do!”

The girl instantly jumped up and did a double flip forward, and another backwards. The Klein children clapped, and ZeeZee whistled.

“Impressive.”

The girl grinned. “Hey, you new here? I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Nah, I just babysit Mrs. Klein’s kids. I’m at Shvilei this year… an American seminary,” she added, seeing the girl’s confused expression. “What about you? Where are you from?”

“Mrs. Klein’s babysitter, huh?” The girl threw her a wary look, but after a moment, said, “Dafna. I’m from…”

But they were interrupted by a breathless voice crying, “ZeeZee! I didn’t realize you were coming here!”

Rikki Klein was running into the garden, a slightly panicky look on her face.

***

Tammy pushed Shimmy’s stroller down the ramp to the shul’s lower level, opened the glass doors, and stepped inside the social hall. She stood there by the entrance for a moment, breathing in the bustle and energy of the mini-mall taking place inside, and felt the energy begin to seep inside of her, lifting her own spirits.

She paused to examine some adorable knit baby hats, looked hopefully at the price tag, and quickly put the hats back on the table. You’re here to browse, not to buy. Yehuda would kill her if she came home with a major bill, and it wasn’t worth upsetting him again, not after they finally seemed to have gotten over their most recent spat.

Even if Shimmy would look absolutely adorable in this ribbed shirt and pull-over sweater. And he did need winter clothing…

Resolutely, Tammy put the clothing down and walked away. She could count on both her mother and mother-in-law to send clothing for the new season; after davening so many years for a grandchild from them, their parents couldn’t do enough for Shimmy. So what if she hated her mother-in-law’s taste, and her own mother’s idea of a shopping spree was whatever was on sale in Target?

Something glittery on her right caught her eye, and she turned to look at a display of what had to be the most gorgeous headscarves she’d ever seen. She picked one up, rubbing her thumb over the smooth, cool silk, admiring the intricate blend of paint and sequins.

“Do you like it? I have other designs, too.”

Tammy looked up at the woman standing behind the display. She looked to be about Tammy’s age and was wearing a similar sequined scarf on her head.

Tammy murmured, “Thanks, but I’m — uh — just looking.”

She expected the woman to turn away at that, but instead, in the same friendly voice, she said, “It’s nice to get a night out by ourselves every now and then, yeah?”

Tammy stared at her. Had she read her mind? “Yes! I’ve been feeling so guilty about leaving my husband to eat dinner on his own, even though he seemed pretty okay with it, but still, you can never tell…” She raised a shoulder and laughed self-consciously. “They just don’t get how important it is for us to get out and socialize every now and then.” And to leave the tension of our homes and our uncomfortable truces. “He thinks it’s just about going shopping, but it’s really not!”

Realizing a second too late who she was speaking to, Tammy reddened and hastily picked up another scarf. “These are stunning,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The woman smiled modestly. “Thanks. They’re my own design.”

Tammy gaped. “Wow. You’re seriously talented.” She fingered the scarf again and asked, “Have you been doing this for a long time?”

The woman shook her head. “I just started a few months ago. But it’s always been a dream of mine, I’ve always loved creating things with my hands. I was the girl who did the costumes for production in high school, that sort of thing. I just look at clothing, and ideas seem to pop into my head. Finally, a few months ago, I decided it’s time to follow my dream. If this is what I love, then this is what I should be doing.”

Tammy beamed. “Oh, I so agree! I actually just did something similar. I quit my job in a real estate office to become an eim bayit in a seminary. I took, like, a 50 percent pay cut. My family thought I was crazy, but well, like you said, you have to follow your dream.”

The woman looked at her curiously. “Which seminary?”

“Shvilei Bracha. You heard of it?”

To Tammy’s surprise, the woman began to laugh. “Heard of it? Are you kidding? I grew up with it!”

In answer to Tammy’s wrinkled forehead, she elaborated, “My mother’s been teaching there forever. Mrs. Chava Edelman — you must know her.”

Tammy’s mouth dropped open. “You’re Mrs. Edelman’s daughter? That’s so… cute!” She winced inside. She hadn’t meant to sound like a seminary girl, but it was better than the adjective that had really sprung to mind. Surprising. She didn’t know why, but the idea of this trendy, fashion-designer woman being Mrs. Edelman’s daughter seemed so incongruous she had to suppress a hysterical urge to laugh.

To hide her confusion, she asked, “So, um, how much are these scarves?”

“Two hundred shekel,” the woman said smoothly. Maybe because she saw Tammy’s face fall, she added, “They’re hand-crafted. It takes a lot of work. But you know what? For a Shvilei teacher, I’ll give a discount. One fifty. Okay?”

Trying not to think about whether they even had an extra 150 shekels in their bank account and what Yehuda’s reaction would be, Tammy handed over her credit card. The woman slipped a business card in the bag together with her gorgeous new headscarf.

“My name’s Devoiry,” she said. “I hope we meet again.”

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 741)