Dini was silent for a moment. She twisted her ring around her finger. “Fine,” she said at last, “I should have told you about the video. But you were so busy with your parents, and you seemed happy enough to let me take care of everything, and—”

Ayala cut in shrewdly, “And you preferred presenting it to me as a fait accompli rather than asking—” She coughed. Did that sound too arrogant? “Uh, discussing it with me first and risking my nixing the whole thing.”

Dini swallowed. “No! I—”

“So what, then?” Ayala leaned forward, her stomach clenched, waiting — hoping? — for Dini’s magic explanation that would set everything right again.

Dini’s eyes were still on her ring. “I… I discussed our campaign approach with experts. With Temima, with Shu — with a bunch of experts.” She blinked nervously. “And they all felt that this idea could be a real success. So once I had their go-ahead, I didn’t think I needed… I mean, you’re not a marketing expert, you came with me to meet with Temima because you also felt—”

She broke off, perhaps because she caught the expression on Ayala’s face. She’d gone with Dini to meet Temima because she’d been forced to. Like everything else about this whole “rebranding” project.

Ayala took a breath, feeling her anger rise. “You’re right, I’m not a marketing expert. But I am an expert in Chesed Tzirel.” She heard her voice shake. From down on the floor, Levi suddenly let out a wail, but Ayala barely registered it.

“Did you think I would go for it? Did you think I’d appreciate using influencers to splash my organization’s name all over social media, and make us sound like — like some shallow, trendy, silly new sensation—” Her voice caught as the impact of Dini’s choices began to fully sink in. Blinking rapidly, she said, “Chesed Tzirel means so much to me. I’ve worked hard to build an organization that’s dignified, that’s discreet, that people can trust. And now—”

“Now nothing’s changed,” Dini said firmly. “People will still know us as dignified and discreet and trustworthy, and if you think I’d project any other image than that then, honestly, Ayala Wexler, I’m insulted.” Her eyes flashed, and Ayala shifted in her seat.

“The only difference is that now, people will know us! Not just the few hundred families we’ve helped, but thousands of people around the world! People who can become donors and give us the money we need to keep helping! I’m not sure what your definition of a fundraising campaign is but that’s certainly the standard definition and, I must say, I’ve succeeded amazingly.” Dini sat up, her jaw clenched. “Not that I’d expect you to appreciate it or anything. I mean, when have you said thank you for anything else that I’ve accomplished this year? Hiring two full-time staff members! Creating an unbelievable volunteer society! Completely reorganizing the structure of the organization to allow us to grow!” Her face was red, her hands waving rapidly in the air.   “But it would be nice to at least, y’know, recognize that I’ve done something good, instead of treating me like I’m out to ruin Chesed Tzirel!”

Ayala stared at her, the blood thumping in her ears. How dare Dini turn this around on her as if Ayala was the one in the wrong when from the very beginning Dini had been doing things behind her back? Months ago, they’d discussed their two divergent visions for the organization, and somehow, even though Ayala was the founder and director it was Dini’s vision that kept winning out — because at every step of the way, Dini had pushed it forward without Ayala’s consent. Act first; ask later. She’d done that about the salaries, about the volunteers, and now about this campaign. And, for all her hurt, Ayala thought she’d been quite the sport in acquiescing to all these unasked-for changes.

And now she was the ungrateful one?

Frowning, she took a breath, and another one. As she opened her mouth to respond, Levi’s whimpers turned into a full-blown cry.

Ayala turned to look at him; he was lying on the floor, rubbing his eyes. She glanced at her watch. “It’s his naptime,” she muttered.

She jumped up and scooped him up off the floor, grateful for the excuse to take a break.

It was a good 20 minutes before Ayala returned to the living room. She’d taken her time making Levi his bottle, changing his diaper, rubbing his stomach as he lay in his crib. Why couldn’t adults be as uncomplicated as toddlers?

Dini also seemed to have appreciated the opportunity to press restart. She was nibbling on a breadstick as she looked up from her laptop screen. “Asleep already?” she asked brightly. “My kids never went down for a nap so easily.”

“Levi’s my good sleeper.” Ayala sat back down on the couch. “Hah, remember what it was like when my twins were this age? I don’t think I got more than an hour of straight sleep for two years.”

“And you were dealing with Tziri’s surgeries,” Dini added. “You must have spent, like, half of that time in the hospital.”

Ayala shrugged. She didn’t like thinking back to that period; she suspected she still hadn’t fully recovered from the trauma.

“Layale was a bad sleeper,” Dini continued unexpectedly. “Gosh, I remember pacing the floor of my apartment with her and Chaviva, one in each hand….”

Ayala threw a quizzical glance at her. Dini raised an eyebrow.  “All those nights you’d stay over in the hospital and your husband decided to go join you for a few hours because you sounded like you were at the edge of your rope, who do you think watched her?”

That brought Ayala up short. Had she known that? That whole era in her life was a blur in her mind; Naftali likely wouldn’t have wanted to bother her with the details of how he’d managed at home with their healthy baby while she was dealing with their sick one. But looking back, it should have been obvious that the Blumenfelds had stepped in to help. A lot. How had it never occurred to her?

She stared at Dini; Dini, who had just accused her of being unappreciative.

Ayala folded and unfolded her fingers in her lap. Did accepting other people’s help make her so uncomfortable that she had a hard time expressing a simple, whole-hearted thank-you? The thought made her feel nauseous.

“I—” She cleared her throat. “I guess I have a whole lot of things I never said thank you for, huh?” Her mouth twisted.

Dini blinked. “You better believe it, my friend.” She grinned.

Ayala smiled back. “I’ll start composing my thank-you note as soon as you leave.”

“I expect it to be epically long.”

Ayala laughed, but couldn’t help adding, “Not that it makes it all right that you went and made a whole Chesed Tzirel music video without me.”

Dini’s eyes lit up. “Not at all. It was very, very, very wrong of me.” She picked up her laptop and wiggled closer to Ayala. “Speaking of, are you ready to watch the infamous video? ‘Cause I just got the final from the video editor and I wanted you to be the first to see it.”

Ayala considered her. Wanted her to be the first to see it? Hah. It was obvious that Dini had come over here today out of guilt. And it was equally obvious that she shouldn’t expect more than the half-joking apology Dini had offered. If Ayala was too proudly self-sufficient to easily accept favors from others, Dini was too sensitive to fully admit when she’d been wrong.

But that was okay. They’d been friends long enough to accept each other’s faults, hadn’t they?

“I would love to see this video… before Shaina!” She winked.

Dini felt lighthearted as she walked out of Ayala’s building. There’d been some tense moments but, baruch Hashem, Ayala now seemed fully on board. It had helped that she’d absolutely loved the video. Dini smiled as she recalled the way Ayala’s eyes had widened, the way she’d leaned in, riveted, and the way she’d turned to Dini afterward and said, “You did it, Dini. You really did it.”

Now it was full-steam ahead with the campaign, and Dini had never felt so confident. Shuki would be meeting with Schiller tomorrow and she had no doubt that he’d convince the guy to become a matching donor. Connecting with people was Shuki’s superpower, she thought with a glow of pride. And then she’d get her volunteers rallied, and—

She blinked as she heard someone calling her name. Swiveling around, she saw Bracha striding toward her.

Dini smiled. “Bracha! It’s good to see you! How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. I was coming to see Ayala but looks like I lucked out. You’re the one I wanted to speak to.”

Bracha came to a halt next to her and Dini’s smile abruptly faded as she stared at the dark expression on her face. “What happened?” she gasped. “Is everything okay?”

Bracha’s jaw was rigid, and her eyes were glaring into Dini’s.

“No, everything is NOT okay.” She was breathing furiously. “I just got a frantic call from my mother, asking why I hadn’t told her about Dovid’s kidney disease and is it true that he’s dying?” Bracha swallowed hard. “I thought I could trust you to keep my confidence. I see I was wrong.”

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 906)