Ayala faltered. “I mean, it was coming on top of the whole fiasco with Bracha’s family finding out about her husband’s illness.” Bracha had given her permission to tell Naftali about it, muttering that soon he’d be on all the neighborhood Tehillim lists in any case, in a way that left Ayala to marvel how she could feel both deep compassion and deep hurt at the same time.

“But that had nothing to do with you,” he said.

“I know.” Ayala stared gloomily into space. “Maybe… maybe I chose the wrong moment? She was too wound up about Bracha. It was stupid of me to criticize her just then.”

Naftali nodded. “The straw that broke the camel’s back. But that doesn’t mean she won’t change her mind after she’s calmed down.”

Ayala lifted her head. “You think so?”

“Of course. She was hurt and she overreacted. Give her some time to cool off, then call her and apologize, and I bet everything will be back to normal.”

Ayala forced a smile, trying to feel reassured, telling herself that what Naftali said was eminently reasonable, even as a small inner voice doubted whether Dini’s mind functioned on the same steady common sense as her husband’s.

The cold leftover pizza was still sitting on the kitchen table when Dini blinked her eyes and lifted herself off the couch. She didn’t remember falling asleep. The house was quiet. Had Chaviva put the younger kids to bed? She raised an eyebrow. Maybe there was hope for her self-centered preteen after all?

She rolled her shoulders back and forth, trying to remove the stiffness — and to think Shuki chose to nap on the couch! — as she stood up. There was an ache in her stomach that reminded her she hadn’t eaten dinner. She frowned. No, that wasn’t it. Taking a step toward the table, she nearly trod on her phone which had fallen next to the couch — and, suddenly, all the misery of the past day rushed back as she realized that the ache wasn’t from hunger at all.

Ayala. Bracha. Anger. Accusations. She pressed a hand to her temple. That’s right. She’d quit.

In a sudden fury, she grabbed her phone from the floor. Surely Ayala hadn’t let her go quietly? Surely there’d be at least ten missed calls, with voice messages begging her to come back?

Her heart was pounding as she checked. One call from Shuki and nothing else. Her jaw tightened. Nothing? Nothing? That’s how little Ayala cared?

Resisting the urge to hurl her phone back on the floor, she strode instead to her laptop, muttering angrily, “Let her see what it means to run this campaign herself! To manage the website, motivate the ambassadors, reach out to donors. Donors, ha!” She glared at her screen. “Ayala couldn’t even snag a donor who was handed to her on a silver platter!” She permitted herself a brief, nasty grin, before shaking her head, opening her email, and beginning to type.

To the greatest volunteers in the world,

Due to personal reasons—

She squinted. If she wrote that, they’d be imagining all sorts of crazy things going on in her life.

It’s been decided that I should focus my efforts on other aspects of Chesed Tzirel, and from here on out the campaign will be led by—

She frowned. That sounded like a euphemistic way of saying she’d been fired. There was nothing more mortifying than giving her girls that impression.

I’ve decided to step back from the campaign at this point to focus on my family.

Now she sounded like a failed politician. Should she just go for the direct and blunt?

So I know this will sound wild, but I quit! I’m no longer involved in the campaign, so please direct all further questions to Ayala Wexler….

Dini sighed. She needed advice. She needed… to call Shuki.

“Three a.m.?” he greeted her when he picked up. “You were so excited by my email that you couldn’t fall asleep?”

Just hearing his voice spread a comforting warmth through her. “Nah, it’s just that there’s so much to do around here when you’re away. Would you believe I’m just getting around to cleaning up from dinner?”

“Well, at least you’ll appreciate now how much I do around the house when I’m at home.” It was such a perfect Dini imitation — and so patently absurd — that she burst out laughing.

“Omigosh, I need that so badly,” she gasped. Then she blinked, remembering. “Wait, what email?”

“Oh, only that I convinced Schiller to be our matching donor. Not that it can compare to such a brilliant one-liner.”

Dini felt her temporarily high spirits plummet once more. Matching donor. A day ago, she would have been jumping for joy. But now….

“Tell him to save his money for another cause,” she said flatly.

A pause. “Dini?”

“I mean it. Tell him we’re no longer involved in Chesed Tzirel, but there are plenty of other worthwhile tzedakahs out there. Tell him I’m going to be looking into other organizations to dedicate my time to, and that we appreciate his interest in supporting us and we’ll let him know— No!” Her voice reached a hysterical pitch. “That I’ll be starting another organization! Tell him he should donate his money instead to sponsor mentors for shanah rishonah counseling! I’ll even give him first dibs on the organization’s name! Tell him—”

“Dini.” Shuki’s voice was quiet and quelling. “I’m not telling him anything. How about, instead, you tell me what’s happened.”

Dini took a long, shaky breath — and burst into tears. It was several moments before she calmed down enough to speak, Shuki waiting patiently on the other end. At last, she managed to squeeze out the whole sorry story, about Bracha, her husband, Sarale, and Ayala. Shuki listened in silence until she concluded with a dramatic, “And so, I quit!”

There was another moment of silence before Shuki spoke. “I understand why you were so hurt, but I think you’re making a mistake.”

“They’re the ones making a mistake!” she cried, stung.

“Oh, they’re making a much bigger mistake. Which they’ll find out soon enough,” he said calmly. “But… Din, you’ve put so much into this. And you’re so incredibly good at it. Don’t you think it makes more sense to see the campaign through successfully? Afterward, you can choose to leave if you want — but you’ll have that success to your name if you want to go work at another organization. Or start your own,” he added, and Dini could just picture the amused quiver of his lips.

But she bit her own. What he was saying was reasonable. Even more, it was gratifying. Flattering. But a small voice was telling her she didn’t deserve this.

“If this campaign is successful, it won’t be because of me,” she said quietly. “It’ll be because of you. Every brilliant idea has been yours. You thought of forming the volunteer group. You came up with the theme. You had the idea for the video. You were the one who managed to charm Schiller into giving hundreds of thousands of dollars for a cause he isn’t even connected to, and which he already said no to….” Her voice caught.

“Yeah, I’m pretty cool, aren’t I?” Shuki said lightly. “I think what you’re trying to say is, we make a great team. And I agree.”

Dini grimaced, realizing how badly she wanted that to be true. “You’re just being nice.”

Shuki let out a loud breath. “Do you know where I ate dinner tonight? At your parents’ house.”

Dini lifted her head. “Yeah? My mother didn’t tell me!”

“She didn’t know. I was in Lakewood anyway for my meeting, so I decided to surprise them and drop by for a visit.”

“Ma must have loved that.” Dini pictured her mother in a flurry, rushing into the kitchen to tell Ana to quickly prepare a three-course dinner worthy of hosting the son-in-law.

He laughed. “I told her I didn’t need any food, that I’d only come for the pleasure of their company, but she didn’t seem to believe me.”

She snorted. “After you went on and on about Ana’s cooking last time we were there?”

“Well, don’t knock flattery, ’cause she outdid herself. But, as conversation-worthy as her barbeque ribs were, that’s not what I wanted to tell you. It’s what your father said about you.”

Dini drew in a breath. “My father?”

“Yup. He spoke over dinner about how he’d never appreciated what inner kochos you had. About little Dini, who would’ve believed you could be such a leader? That you could run a major campaign so capably? I’ve known your father over thirteen years, and he’s not a kveller, but Din, he was kvelling.”

Dini felt her heart swell. “Did— did you tell him these were your ideas?”

“Why are you so fixated on that? It wasn’t the brilliant ideas he was impressed with! It was the brilliant management! He went on about the way you’re leading your group, how you’ve galvanized all these girls to work hard for your cause! That’s you, Dini, not me!”

She swallowed. “You’re exaggerating. Ta doesn’t talk that way.”

“He even made a comment about hiring you to work in his business.”

She frowned. “Now I know you’re exaggerating.”

“I promise, he said it. Okay, it was a joke, but still….”

But still. Dini sucked in her breath. Ta had never even joked, not once in her life, about her joining the family business. His sons, yes, as a matter of course. And Eliana, brilliant Eliana.

“Lady, it’s time to face the facts,” Shuki drawled. “You’re really, really talented at what you do.

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 909)