Reluctantly, Miri kicked the Clics skates off. Deena pulled a skate off Nechama’s foot, and Nechama burst into tears.

“They’re miiiiiine,” she wailed.

Nechama was still sobbing as they stepped outside, Deena holding her hand tightly.

Mr. Lizman turned to face them. “Hey, kids!” He nodded at Deena. “How are you?”

“Good, baruch Hashem.”

“Shaina sends regards.”

“Thanks. I’ll give her a call.”

She would. For some reason, she had no problem talking to Zev’s sister. The Lizman intimidation gene must have skipped her; Shaina had always been so totally normal.

Which was probably why Zev had never liked her.

Mr. Lizman grabbed the carryon and his face turned stony.

Deena curled her toes. It wasn’t the frown drawing. It was the Toys’n’More story. He’d watched it, she was pretty sure he had.

Deena squeezed Nechama’s hand. “Have a great Shabbos, my love. I’ll miss you so, so much.”

Nechama sniffled. Mr. Lizman walked over and took her hand. “What happened, Nechama?” he asked. His voice was overly sweet, and Deena didn’t miss the swift glance in her direction. The glance was a missile, a dig at her incompetence. A mother who couldn’t get her act together.

Because clearly Nechama was unhappy in her presence, and clearly he would make things better for her.

Bitterness welled in her chest. She watched the falcon doors drape closed over the car, trapping her children inside. And then they were off, her two babies, her life.

Deena walked back into her apartment and slammed the door. The sound echoed in the silent house. She kicked Clics aside as she trudged over to the couch and collapsed.

A moment later, she sat up. She wasn’t doing this. She wasn’t going to wallow in self-pity. She wasn’t going to let Zev’s family ruin her life.

She had plenty of time until Shabbos, she could still throw something together to bring over to Leah. Maybe a lotus cheese tart. Yes, that had gotten over three thousand likes, and she had cheese filling ready in the freezer.

Deena checked her pantry. She had everything except pecans and chocolate. Okay, grocery, quick.

A dab of makeup, a brush through her sheitel and Deena was out.

In Garden Greens, Deena hurried through the aisles, past the throngs of last-minute shoppers. She was reaching for a container of pecans when she heard it. “Omigosh, is that nutsandbasil?”

She hid a smirk. She was used to this, but it still amused her every time. Plus she was curious. She needed to know what people were saying. She strained to hear.

“I think it is,” the woman whispered loudly. “Cool!”

Ignore? React? Ignore? React?

React.

Deena spun around and flashed a smile. “I believe it is,” she said, winking.

“Omigosh!” squealed the woman in the tan-colored maxi accordion-pleated skirt. “This is too cute.” Deena pictured her leaving the store and texting her sisters. Guess who I met in Garden Greens!

The second woman, wearing a sleek blonde wig, took a step closer. “You are so unbelievably talented. I tried your cauliflower snaps yesterday, the pan was empty in under a minute. And my kids never touch cauliflower. Crazy!”

“Thank you, thank you.” Deena smiled modestly. “We try, you know.”

“Keep going!” the maxi-skirt woman said. “I always look out for your posts and stories.”

“I’ll do that,” Deena sang. And you keep doing yours. Like, share, and comment, yeah? Every new follow counts. “Wait, guys. Do you want to do something cool?”

They looked at her curiously.

“A story! Right here, right now.”

“What?” the blonde woman asked.

Deena smiled. “Bring your wagons over, guys. This is so fun.”

The women wheeled their wagons over. Deena pulled them into a close ring, held out the container of pecans in one hand and her phone in the other. “Smile!”

“Love it,” Deena said, zooming into the picture. “We got everything in. Okay, what are we writing?”

She bent over her phone, fingers tapping.

Met some fans in Garden Greens. Nothing beats last-minute shopping on Friday afternoon! Thank you –

She stopped typing. “Hey, what are your handles?”

Maxi-skirt’s face flushed.

“Um… It’s @gitgold, one t. My name is Gitty.”

“And?”

“Queen Busy,” the blonde woman said. “That’s @queen and the letters b and z.”

They were blushing, but Deena knew they were ecstatic. Five minutes of fame on nutsandbasil’s page. It was easy to make a person’s day when you had 31,400 followers.

They chatted for another minute before Deena waved and took her purchases to the register.

She was still grinning headily as she pulled up in front of her house. But as soon as she opened the door, her stomach sank. It was so quiet. The Clics littering the hallway glared at her. She glared back miserably.

She hated this. She hated Fridays, she hated being a guest for Shabbos. She was a food blogger, for goodness’ sake. She was supposed to be hosting people.

Deena dumped the groceries on the counter. She’d better get started or there would be no cheese tart either. She took out her oblong tart pan, another “gift” from an entrepreneur follower, then picked up her phone to look up the recipe.

But before she found the recipe, her phone rang. Her mother-in-law.

“Deena! What’s going on with Nechama? She’s wheezing!”

“I know,” Deena said. “It’s just a cold, don’t worry.”

“Are you sure?”

No, I’m not sure. I’m a terrible mother and I don’t know anything. I’m sure you’d do a much better job raising her.

Deena tried to tune out the rest of her mother-in-law’s speech about the doctor and vitamins and how Nechama’s coat wasn’t warm enough, she had to wear extra layers on cold days.

When she finally hung up, Deena glared at the pan, then pushed it aside.

Too bad. Too bad, cheese tart. Too bad.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 737)