“But I never imagined Dini would take it so hard. I mean — to quit the campaign!”

Ayala sat staring at the phone in utter shock for several long minutes. Had Dini really just said that she’s removing herself from the campaign?

“Ima? Are you okay?” Ayala blinked at Tziri’s voice, trying to refocus. Dinner. Her kids were waiting for dinner. No, Tziri was already handing out bowls of pasta to the younger kids, while staring at her in concern.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she managed.

“Good. I thought maybe Bubby….”

Ayala shook her head and said more firmly, “That phone call had nothing to do with Bubby. Everything’s fine, baruch Hashem.”

But as she went through the motions of dinner and bedtime, every instinct kept screaming to call Dini back and apologize. Quit the organization? Her best friend and partner for so long?

“I never dreamed she’d be so hurt,” she told Naftali later that night.

He was frowning. “What was it that you said again?”

Ayala rested her chin in her hands. “I suggested that mentoring her volunteers in their personal lives might be problematic.”

“And this was the first time you’d brought up the subject with her?”

“Well, yes. I mean, it was the first time I’d heard about it!” She scowled. “Bracha was the one who raised this problem, and as soon as she mentioned it, I realized she was right.” Ayala’s eyebrows creased. “But I never imagined Dini would take it so hard. I mean — to quit the campaign!”

Naftali shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. Are you sure there wasn’t something else?”