We enjoy a cozy breakfast together when he gets back from Shacharis, and I should feel guilty, knowing Sari has probably been up since seven cooking, but, hey, I’m shanah rishonah and I’m going to enjoy it.

We schmooze over waffles and blueberries — no way to ruin that, thank G-d — and I feel a surge of appreciation for this husband of mine. I’m 27 years old, it took so long for me to get here, and yes, nothing in life is perfect. But despite last night’s dinner disaster, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more connected to Mike.

The text comes in at around noon. Have a great Shabbos at Sari, sweetheart. Also, surprise, Ta and I want to take you and Mike to Florida for a few days! Call me for details. Love u.

Whaaaaat? Ma and Ta want to take us to Florida? Well, that’s out of left field. I literally have no idea where that came fr—

Oh.

Tanta Etty. Mimi. Yaeli. Sar. Tzippy. Tova. Shosh. Chan.

Thanks, ladies.

Fuego is packed. Ta and Mike look a bit startled at the amount of people; but Ma and I take it in stride. I can’t believe we’re here. I can’t believe it’s 78 degrees in Miami. I feel warm for literally the first time in months. I also can’t believe how much food we manage to eat.

“I can’t move,” I say.

Mike is smiling. “I’ve never seen you eat your whole plate before,” he says.

Ma is looking at him like he’s insane. “Bayla? She can eat more than any o—”

“Okay!” I say, giving Ma a look. “Enough about my eating habits! Shall we call an Uber?”

I pull Ma back as we head out. “I’m still newly married,” I hiss. “Still trying to eat delicately and politely.”

Ma giggles. “Well, you can stop after tonight.”

I roll my eyes and we laugh so hard, Ta turns around to ask us what he’s missing.

Later, back at the Airbnb, while Mike speaks to his mom on the phone, I look out at the gorgeous Miami night and think about how weird it is that Ma has barely invited us over or reached out these past six months, and suddenly we’re giggling in restaurants. In Miami, mind you.

And it’s not like I would have parked myself on her old navy couch and poured out my heart every day, if she had checked in, but there were moments when I felt alone or overwhelmed and I really could have used my mother. Well, I have her now, I guess. And while I’m still furious at Tanta Etty, I’m enjoying this immensely.

Aryeh keeps going on and on about what wonderful middos Mike has, and Toby finds that reassuring, especially after all those desperate messages from the girls about the Fireside Fiasco. Still, she hopes Bayla will be in the mood for a mother-daughter tête-à-tête, so she can hear how her baby’s shanah rishonah is really going.

“If Bayla comes to schmooze with me,” she tells Aryeh as they settle down on the patio facing the beach, “make yourself scarce.”

Aryeh looks at her over his sunglasses. “You mean she doesn’t want to confide in her old father?”

Toby looks at him. “No.”

Aryeh lets out a dramatic sigh of relief. “Baruch Hashem!”

They’re still laughing when Bayla comes out, looking very relaxed in a colored tichel and giant oversized sunglasses.

Aryeh makes small talk for a minute before struggling to his feet and stretching. “Going to take a quick catnap before I need to Zoom in to the office.”

“Bye, Ta,” Bayla says, blowing him a kiss.

“See you later,” Toby adds, winking at him gratefully. They sit in companionable silence, soaking in the sun, and listening to the waves break against the sand below.

“How you doing, sweetheart?” Toby finally says. She keeps her voice calm, modulated, airy. She tries to, at least.

Bayla’s face is unreadable with those giant glasses on. Toby reaches out and gently pulls them off. Bayla blinks, her chocolate brown eyes huge in the sun, and suddenly, she’s not a young wife, but the baby girl Toby coddled and spoiled.

“I’m good, Ma,” she says at last. “Really good.”

“It’s a lot to get used to, marriage,” Toby says. “And now, with the promotion. I’m sure you have your hands full. Is it overwhelming?”

Bayla opens her mouth. “Overwhelming is a good word. It’s also—” But then she falls silent as she spies something over Toby’s shoulder.

Toby turns to see her new son-in-law lumbering toward them wearing a pale yellow polo shirt and black pants, looking like an overgrown bar mitzvah boy. Toby feels herself stiffen; Bayla was just about to tell her something! But then she glances at Bayla, and notices the huge smile that breaks across her youngest’s face.

Bayla slips her sunglasses back on and gets gracefully to her feet, smoothing down her dress. “I’m fine, Ma. Really. Baruch Hashem.”

She flashes Toby a reassuring smile and goes to join Mike. “Hey, you,” she says cheerfully.

“Hey, yourself,” he says, dimpling. “Want to go find the nearest Starbucks?”

She wrinkles her nose. “I thought you’d never ask.”

They wave to her as they head out into the bright Miami sunshine, footsteps perfectly in sync.

Toby shakes her head. What had just happened? Bayla was about to open up… but she’d also seemed so happy when Mike came in….

She sits lost in her thoughts until Aryeh opens the patio door and walks toward her.

“Aryeh, I tried talking to Bay—”

She freezes because Aryeh’s face is in a state of such angst that she’s sure something terrible has happened.

“What? What is it?” she says sharply.

He sinks onto a chaise next to her and runs his hand over his face.

“Aryeh!” Her voice is thin and shrill and sounds nothing like her. “Is it the kids? My mom? What is it?”

He looks up. “I think I was just promoted.”

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 785)