Shuki’s smirk faded slightly. “Sorry, Din, but it was too easy. I hope you get your building one day — I’ll be the first to donate to it — but somehow, I don’t think that argument’s going to persuade Mrs. Wexler to give up the name.”

Dini’s shoulders slumped. No, she didn’t think so, either.

In a softer voice, Shuki added, “Is there really a problem with keeping the name Chesed Tzirel? Doesn’t rebranding come with its own risks? I mean, right now, you have name recognition, a fair number of people know you and what you do, and they know to reach out to you when they need help. If you’d suddenly change your name to, I don’t know, Heart2Help…” he drew a big number two in the air, “then maybe that would make for a catchier building campaign” — she glared — “but you’d need to do major PR just to let people know that this is the same Chesed Tzirel they already know and love.”

Dini stared at him. “Riiiight,” she said slowly. “But wouldn’t that make the publicity splash we want?” Still, she had to admit, he had a point. She gritted her teeth. How did Shuki, lying half-asleep on the couch, come out the sensible one after she’d invested so much effort and thought into the organization?

She turned away, suddenly deflated. Was she totally hopeless?

“Fine,” she muttered. “I guess there isn’t really a problem with Chesed Tzirel. I’ll just have to—”

Her phone rang, and she looked down. Ma.

Hello, problem.

Biting her lip, she picked up. “Hi, Ma.” She tried to sound perky. “So, yeah, we had our meeting with Lana, and—”

“I heard.”

Dini paused. “You, uh, spoke to Lana already?” She didn’t know why, but resentment rose at the thought. Why did her mother feel entitled to call the consultant on her own to get the lowdown on their private business meeting? Just because she was paying for it?

Yes, Dini. Just because she’s paying for it. Did she not have 34 years’ experience with her parents’ mindset?

“I did,” Ma said coldly. “And Lana told me that your friend was not interested in anything she had to say. She wanted to know why I’d wasted her time.”

Dini closed her eyes. It was a fair question… about an unfair circumstance.

“Yeah, it was kind of awkward.” She swallowed, gathering her courage. “But, honestly, Ma, we never told you we wanted to change the name. You decided that on your own.”

As she’d suspected, her mother didn’t take that well. “What do you mean? You agreed with me when I said the name should be changed! Didn’t you tell me that was one of the reasons you needed a marketing budget?”

Had she? Dini winced. Yes, she supposed she had given her mother that impression.

“Right, but… I hadn’t realized how strongly Ayala felt about this. It’s her grandmother, you know. Imagine if I’d named an organization after Bobby. We wouldn’t like someone suggesting we change it.”

“Maybe you should name it after Bobby, then. Why should Ayala get exclusive naming rights?”

Dini bit her lip. Because it’s her organization. That was the real answer, but she couldn’t give it. Ma thought the two of them were equally involved; how would she take it if she knew Dini was just second fiddle to CEO Ayala?

Nevertheless, wasn’t her mother being a tad selfish?

“Baruch Hashem, we have the means to name as many organizations as we want l’illui nishmas our grandparents. Ayala’s family doesn’t have that kind of money. She told me how much it meant to her mother when she told her the organization would be called Chesed Tzirel. Can we really take that away from her?”

There was quiet on the other end. For all her insistence on getting her way, Dini knew that, fundamentally, her mother was a compassionate person.

“I hadn’t thought about it that way,” Ma said. “Dini, it’s very thoughtful of you to take your friend’s feelings into account — even at the expense of your organization’s reputation.”

She supposed she could take that as a compliment. “Thanks. Yeah, well, I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. I guess I should have checked with Ayala first before you booked the appointment for us.”

Would her mother catch the sarcasm? Probably not.

“Oh, sweetie, it’s okay. We all make mistakes.”

After she hung up, Shuki whistled approvingly. “Nice demonstration of PR skills,” he said, which made her check her scream of exasperation and laugh instead.

Bracha sat cross-legged on her couch and licked her ice cream spoon.

“So basically, Mrs. Reiner paid serious bucks so you could tell this big shot consultant that you don’t need her help?” She chortled. “If that’s not cool, I don’t know what is.”

Ayala grinned. This was why she loved talking to Bracha. Somehow, events that had been quite stressful when she’d lived through them turned humorous in her friend’s hands.

“Lana the consultant didn’t seem to find it very cool,” she said. “Neither did Dini, for that matter,” she added, remembering the look on Dini’s face, and the way she’d squirmed and stuttered as she tried to excuse away Ayala’s rudeness.

“No kidding.” Bracha smirked. “Rich girl knew she’d have to answer to Mommy later.” She took another spoonful of ice cream — sharing some of it with little Leebie, who’d scooted over, mouth hanging open, at the sight.

Ayala frowned. It was one thing for Ayala to make fun of the Reiner wealth — she who’d known and loved Dini for years. But why did Bracha, who barely knew Dini, love taking swipes at her at every opportunity?

“Yes, I’m sure she did have a hard time explaining this to her mother,” Ayala replied quietly. For the first time since the meeting last night, her conscience smote her. She’d been so indignant over the fact that Mrs. Reiner and Lana felt entitled to dictate how Ayala should run her organization that she hadn’t stopped to consider Dini’s feelings.

“Maybe I was rude,” she said, stirring her own melting ice cream in its cup. (She’d said no, but Bracha had given her a heaping scoop anyway.)

“Of course, you were,” Bracha said agreeably.

“I could’ve just kept quiet,” Ayala muttered. “I could’ve let the lady show me all her slides and told her how clever her names were and then gone ahead and done what I wanted.” She rubbed her forehead.

Bracha nodded. “That would’ve been more your style.”

“What got into me?”

Bracha tilted her head. “If I may be permitted an attempt at psychoanalysis, someone was trying to steal your baby, and your inner Mama Bear awakened and growled.”

Ayala’s eyes twinkled. “Awakened and growled? How poetic.”

“Poetry, thy name is truth,” Bracha intoned solemnly, and Ayala burst out laughing as she stood up.

“Thanks for the psychoanalysis,” she said. “I’m going to go call Dini now. I think I owe her an apology.”

Dini hung up the phone and glanced with glee at the list she’d written down. Four names. Whaddaya know? Sarale from Waffle Bar had actually come through!

Okay, she’d called her Mrs. Blumenfeld, a nearly unforgiveable mistake. (“Dini!” she’d practically shouted, horrified at the thought that this girl viewed her as that old.) But then Sarale had shyly, breathlessly told her that she’d spoken to a few of her friends, and they were all interested in joining the new group for young marrieds, and she’d given Dini four names and numbers to start, with assurances that she could probably round up even more.

“So when’s the first meeting?” Sarale had asked, and Dini, giddy with excitement that something was finally moving forward, had immediately replied, “Does next Tuesday morning work?”

Which gave her exactly six days to figure out what, exactly, this group was supposed to be.

She began to pace. Okay, she needed a really grabbing opening meeting. Some kind of kick-off event with a ton of hype…. Maybe she should bring in a big-name female performer? Or a celebrity chef? Or, no, an inspirational speaker; that would be more in line with their mission, no?

As her mind revolved around possibilities — Miriam Israeli? Danielle Renov? Rabbanit Yemima Mizrachi? All three? — and the likelihood of putting such an event together in six days, her phone rang once again.

She looked down and gasped. Ayala! She hadn’t said a word about this to Ayala! How would she react? Dini thought about how strongly Ayala had reacted recently to any slightest suggestion of change. She had to tell Ayala, she knew she did, but she really didn’t relish having Ayala throw cold water on her exciting ideas once again.

With a sigh, she picked up the phone.

“Hi, Dini. I’m calling to apologize for acting like a jerk last night.”

Dini blinked. That was totally not what she’d expected. “Oh. Wow. That’s… really nice of you to call.”

“Yeah, well, I thought I owed you an explanation. When she started talking about changing the name, as if it was a done deal, it just, I don’t know, set me off. It was a very sensitive topic for me.”

“Yes, I could tell. I’m sorry, too, I didn’t realize how strongly you felt about the name…. Maybe I should have,” Dini added magnanimously. Hey, if Ayala could be big enough to apologize, so could she.

“But still, I reacted in a way that made everyone uncomfortable, especially you, and I’m sorry. I’ll try to control myself next time, okay?”

Dini chuckled. With all the tension that had been growing between them recently, it was nice to be able to clear the air like this.

So nice, that why should she spoil the moment by bringing up the new group she’d formed?

Anyway, she decided after she hung up, it was probably better to present it to Ayala as a fait accompli, so that she wouldn’t have the opportunity to nix their progress once again.

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 874)