“Perfect for your relationship with Stu?” Chavi’s face is stony. “I’m so glad to hear that. What about your relationship with me? Does that matter to you at all?”

"Shmuel Chaim Sternfeld, you are not to be believed.”

We all know the rule — if your full name is being used by a woman who’s meant to have your back, be it mother or wife, then trouble is brewing. I want to tell Chavi that I just walked in the door and can she let a guy take off his coat and chill for three minutes before she starts yelling at him, but that will just make whatever this is worse, so instead I lean on the counter opposite the island where she’s cutting up a salad and brace myself for the deluge.

“What’s the problem, Chavi?”

“I’ll tell you exactly what’s the problem,” she says, her voice dangerously low. “I met Melissa Steinhart at the grocery store. And she told me how excited she is to be joining us for Shabbos lunch, could she bring anything?

“And she just wants to remind me that in addition to not eating sugar, she and her husband went vegan a few months ago. They feel so much better, it’s like their bodies were totally reset. But I don’t need to worry about it, not at all, because they’ll just eat what works for them. No need to make anything special.”

I feel a headache coming on.

“How could you?” Chavi is getting hysterical. “How can you invite your boss and his impossible wife without even asking me? You know I had three kids home this week, you know I haven’t slept a full night in months. And not only do you invite two vegans to our Shabbos seudah, you do it without even checking first to see if it’s okay with me!

“You know what? You can do the cooking! You can make a vegan cholent, and a vegan kishke, and a vegan potato kugel, and a sugar-free vegan dessert! You made this mess, you clean it up!”

“Chavi,” I say, drumming my fingers on the island countertop, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. But don’t you think you’re overreacting? You know we have to have Stu and his wife over at least once a year. And it’s been a lot longer than that since we had them last. I was planning on telling you right away, I just forgot.”

Chavi is glaring at me. I wish she’d realize how important this is.

“You’re not the only one dealing with a lot,” I add. “Do you have any idea how much pressure I have at work right now with that Bayside project? I figured some time together, on friendlier turf, would be perfect for my relationship with Stu.”

“Perfect for your relationship with Stu?” Chavi’s face is stony. “I’m so glad to hear that. What about your relationship with me? Does that matter to you at all?”

“Chavi! That’s ridiculous! Of course you matter! This isn’t about you. Not everything is. You always—”

Chavi sweeps past me and bolts out of the kitchen. I hear her pounding up the stairs. Sometimes she’s like a petulant teen.

I guess we’ll finish this conversation some other time.

Or not. Hopefully not.