She dialed again. She sent him a text. Are you coming? We’re stuck here in the tea room, I need your help

This was the grand Corvara tour, with two chefs, a pastry chef, and a food blogger, but so far, there was no real food to feed the kids.

The tea room was bustling with people and noise as Pessie shuffled around. Cartons were piled everywhere, hora music blasted from someone’s Bluetooth speaker. Tour staff boys who looked no older than 16 were ripping open boxes, swiftly unloading paper goods, food, drinks.

Her girls stared in wonder at the feverish activity. Motti yanked at his stroller straps, trying to break free.

Pessie walked over to the fridge and picked out some yogurts. Then she hunted through a carton of bananas until she found a ripe bunch.

“Good for you that your kids will eat that.”

She wheeled around.

Mrs. Popular Food Blogger.

A smile spread over Pessie’s face. “Hi, Deena! Welcome! How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks.” Deena winked. “Just don’t look what my kids are going to eat.”

Pessie looked. Deena was holding two containers of noodle soup.

“Well, don’t laugh,” Pessie said, “but when my kids beg for that, know what I do? I toss those packets of junk in the garbage, warm up some of my own chicken soup and pour it over the noodles. They love it.”

“Cool.” Deena peeled open the paper lid from one of the containers. “I’ll try it one day, but for now, it’s just going to be…” She raised the container high in the air and flashed an exuberant grin. “Piping Hot Yellowed Broth with Green-Flaked Pasta! Ahem ahem.”

Pessie laughed. Deena smirked. “Sometimes I feel like a—”

She stopped, her face turning slightly pink.

Pessie put her yogurts and bananas down on top of a stack of cartons and probed Deena’s face. “Like a?”

Deena gave her a penetrating stare. “Like a food blogger.”

“Ah.” Pessie’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t worry,” she whispered conspiratorially. “Your secret is safe with me.”