Tammy sat at her kitchen table holding her phone in one hand and Devoiry’s business card in the other, but her fingers refused to dial the number. She’d mentally reviewed the words she would say several times, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Hi, Devoiry. Remember me? Tammy Hurwitz, who works with your mother? Who bought your tichel at your generous discount? I’m so sorry, but I’m going to have to return it. We just really can’t afford it right now.

Any way you viewed it, the conversation was awkward and humiliating — more so because of her connection to Mrs. Edelman. Imagine Devoiry telling her mother about this! “Mom, I met the new eim bayit, Tammy Hurwitz. Did you know that she’s, like, dirt poor? She couldn’t even afford one of my scarves.”

The scenario had been playing out in her mind all afternoon. Tammy’s cheeks burned at the thought.

But then she heard Yehuda’s words — “what your true value is” — and the expression in his eyes when he said it. And, hands shaking, she forced herself to dial.

“Hello?”

Tammy drew a trembling breath. “Oh, hi, Devoiry? This is Tammy Hurwitz, um, remember…”

“Tammy! I’m so happy you called!” Devoiry’s voice sounded warm and inviting. Over the phone, when you couldn’t see the sequins and color, Tammy realized she sounded a lot more like her mother.

Of course, that didn’t make the conversation any easier. “Really? Uh, why?” she asked, more to stall than anything else.

Devoiry’s laugh was all bubbles and enthusiasm. “Well, if you want to know the truth, I actually wanted to call you. Isn’t this hashgachah?”

Tammy was so astounded, all she could do was repeat stupidly, “Really? Why?”

“Cause I thought you could help me with something. See, I’ve been trying to get into the young American kollel couple crowd. I grew up here, my friends are Israelis. And I think the Americans would be a great market for me. Don’t you think?”

“Um, yeah, totally,” Tammy said, wondering where she was going with this.

“The mini mall was a nice start, but I’m looking for something more personal, you know? I’d love to do a sale in someone’s home one evening. You know, you invite your friends and the ladies who work with you in the seminary to come over for an evening. I’ll bring some refreshments and do the set up. It won’t be much work for you. And in exchange, I’ll give you a free scarf. How does that sound?”

Tammy’s eyes widened in shock. Devoiry was right; this was pure hashgachah. She cleared her throat, “That sounds amazing.”

“No way! OMG! Mazel tov!”

ZeeZee, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the lounge with her back against the couch, watched in amusement as about 20 girls leaned forward eagerly to find out what Tehilla was shrieking about on the phone.

“Whaddaya wanna bet her little sister got a hundred on her Chumash test?” ZeeZee murmured to Shani who was sitting near her, huddled in the corner next to the couch.

Shani’s lips flickered into a small smile.

“Hey, I think that’s legit the first time I’ve seen you smile all month,” ZeeZee said. She patted herself on the back. “Go, Zeez, you must’ve made a really funny joke.”

Now an actual giggle escaped.  “Fine, you’re funny,” Shani admitted. “Even if you also sometimes say really stupid things.”

ZeeZee’s eyes widened. This was the closest Shani had come to referring to their conversation from a few weeks ago, when ZeeZee had accused her of wanting to starve herself to death. Now, she said, with a casual flip of her ponytail, “You bet I do. Stupid, cringey, totally embarrassing things. Isn’t that what makes me so loveable?”

She flashed Shani a wide grin, and Shani, after a moment, grinned back. When she smiled wide like that, ZeeZee couldn’t help but notice how yellow her teeth were. They hadn’t always been like that, had they? It was especially noticeable against her insanely white skin.

Tehilla had just gotten off the phone and was relaying the news to the excited crowd. “Moishy, my little brother, just lost his first tooth!” she squealed.

ZeeZee smirked. “Hah,” she said, turning to Shani.

But she was taken aback by the expression on Shani’s face.

“At least she has a family to get excited about,” she muttered.

ZeeZee sat up straighter. Shani rarely referred to her family. “But don’t you? I mean, you have a family, no?”

Shani shrugged.  “I have a father who ran away to a different state as soon as the divorce went through, two brothers who are away in yeshivah and never call me, and a mother who calls me too much and micromanages my life. If you call that family then, yeah, I’ve got a family.”

She shrugged and turned toward the wall, her face shuttered once more.

ZeeZee put a hand on her shoulder. “Shani,” she said slowly. “I think you need, like, to go to therapy.”

Shani shrugged off ZeeZee’s hand, but ZeeZee persisted.

“No, seriously. It could really help. I bet the school can help you find someone, if you want.”

Shani swiveled around, glaring. “I don’t need a therapist. I’ve got Mrs. Hurwitz, okay? Drop it.”

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 742)