“Wait… what?”

“The kids… We can’t have them up there. It’s too much. The story was up for 24 hours, but you saved it to your highlights… Can you take it down? Please?”

“Uh, no. Like really no. The Top Rack paid for this story, they insisted that I save it, and I agreed. I can’t take it down.”

“Do these people pay you more when you include the kids?”

Deena slammed the washing machine door shut. “Alright, Shaina, you’ve done your job. I know this isn’t coming from you, and you know that I know. The story is staying up, and if anyone…” She paused to let the word sink in. “If anyone has a problem, they should call me directly. Deal?”

Pessie was standing on the counter, trying to clean her baking cabinet for Pesach, when Hindy trudged into the kitchen.

“Hindy, you’re up?”

“My geography homework!” she wailed. “I forgot!”

“What? When’s it due?”

“Tomorrow!”

Well, kids who remember school projects after bedtime the night before it’s due did not warrant mothers’ sympathy.

But. But this was Hindy, and she suffered so much. Right or wrong, Pessie pictured her daughter’s classmates snickering while her teacher scolded her, and she couldn’t help pitying her.

“If you forget your homework, that’s your responsibility,” Pessie said, “but I’ll try to help you, just this once.” She looked at her watch. Nine o’clock. Help. “Tell me what you need to do.”

“I need to write ten fun facts about Spain.”

Spain… “Um. Well, there was the Spanish Inquisition, but I wouldn’t call that fun… I think they have mountains?”

Hindy scratched her neck. “Every country has mountains.”

Pessie picked up a container of pastry tips – still closed from the previous year’s Pesach cleaning. If she would’ve had Internet access this would take a few minutes, but to start sending requests to add websites to her whitelist would take forever. “You know what? Let’s call Tatty. He knows all kinds of interesting stuff about different places.”

“You know what? Let’s call Tatty. He’s great with numbers.”

“Okay.” Hindy picked up the cordless and dialed Yochi.

“Ta? Can you give me ten fun facts about Spain? My geography project is tomorrow and I— ” She frowned. “One minute.”

She held out the phone to Pessie. “He wants to talk to you.”

“Hi, Pessie, what’s up?”

“Nothing, Hindy needs your help. When are you getting home?”

Yochi coughed. “Right, so actually, I’ll be home late tonight. I hopped over to the office, we need to review the video promo for the Zambia trip. It might take some time, so put my supper in the fridge, I’ll buy something to eat.”

Pessie clenched her teeth. “What should I do about Hindy’s project?”

“Write a note to her teacher?”

“A note,” Pessie said tartly. “Sure.”

Deena did not have a real plan for the day, and that was a problem. Her friends were all caught up in the pre-Pesach madness, cleaning-shopping-cooking, but she was moving in with her parents for the entire Yom Tov, to her mother’s infuriating delight, and Deena had to admit that she was kind of a little bored.

She could go help her mother with the cooking, of course, and maybe she would, tomorrow. But now she simply wasn’t in the mood. Work was more appealing.

She settled herself with a hazelnut coffee at her desk. Emails first.

That email from the Hersko tour guy was still marked unread. Deena had sent a short reply, thanking him for the offer and requesting time to consider it. Now the guy was following up.

Deena hit reply.

Hi Mr. Hersko,

I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. I’m still considering the offer, but there are some issues I need to figure out, so I need a little time to make my decision. I hope to have an answer for you after Pesach.

Did she want to join the tour? It wasn’t even a question. She’d checked them out on Instagram, these guys were legit, and she wanted to join, very badly. It was an incredible PR opportunity. But… her in-laws. They’d never forgive her if the kids didn’t come to them on Succos. As if there were some custody arrangement between them.

Deena finished going through her emails, then logged on to Instagram. Ooooh… Her yam-burger salad recipe had become famous, yay! 543 likes and 26 comments.

She was working her way through the comments, replying to some of them, when she heard the doorbell ring. She pressed on the intercom. “Who is it?”

No answer.

She went to the door. Nobody was there, but there was a package on the porch — Little Misses — and a UPS truck was driving away.

Little Misses? Deena hadn’t ordered anything. She opened the package. Two floral dresses, sizes 4 and 6. A gift receipt fluttered to the floor. Enjoy! Luv, Bubby L

Okaaaay.

She held up one of the dresses. Then she snapped a picture and sent it to Leah.

Leah’s reply came a moment later. Pretty!

Leah Kugler! Deena fired back. Have you ever seen anything so ugly in your life?

Instead of replying, Leah called. “Alright, what’s the story?”

“Zev’s mother.”

“Oooh. Um… nice! So sweet of her!”

“Extremely,” Deena said bitterly. “I hate the dress, my girls don’t need another dress, and now I have to call Bubby L to say thank you.”

“Your appreciation astounds. I don’t remember the last time my mother-in-law bought my kids clothing.”

Because your mother-in-law doesn’t feel pressured to stay relevant in your kids’ lives. Your mother-in-law doesn’t play surrogate mother.

“Whatever,” Deena muttered.

She stuffed the dresses back into the bag. Fine, so her kids needed to have a relationship with Zev’s family, she got it. It was important. Healthy.

But still.

“You’re overthinking,” Leah said. “It’s a dress, nothing more. They’ll wear them when they go to her house. She’s cute.”

Adorable.

“I have a beep,” Deena said. “Talk to you.”

She glanced at the screen before switching calls. It was a number she didn’t recognize. “Hello?”

“Hi, this is Sarah Benoloff, child psychologist with Sunrise Intervention. I’m calling to set up an evaluation for your daughter, Miri.”

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 744)