“Would you have gone if they invited you?”

Shira couldn’t fully understand her question. Did Bina assume that all wealthy people were in an enmeshed little clique? She paused. Maybe she wasn’t totally wrong, but it was more like any type; it just happened to be that the thing that brought them together was money.

“Nah, it’s too hard to go anywhere with kids. It has to be somewhere I want to go.”

They all nodded, this was something they could relate to. Shira was grateful they didn’t say anything about “the help” watching her kids. She knew there were many in her shoes who did rely heavily on nannies and housekeepers; she only did it when she felt she had to.

“This eggplant dip was amazing,” Tzippy said, as she put away the sautéed eggplant dip.

“Thanks, I made it.” Shira said. She noted how only Bina’s face registered some surprise. “It takes for-ever, but it’s so worth it.”

“You could totally sell it,” Tzippy said and again.

Shira noticed Bina’s reaction to that. It was okay, she didn’t have to be BFFs with Bina.

The meal progressed as fun ones do — time flying fast. It was two o’clock by the time all the guests had left. The table had been cleared by the women, and Clarissa was putting the kitchen back together.

“That was really nice,” Ephraim said plopping onto the couch.

“It was, no?” Shira agreed, seating herself in her mother-in law’s wingback chair.

Ephraim tilted his head a bit. “Can you move? I can’t see your face.”

Shira smiled and shifted the chair over.

“I forgot how much I love hosting, and running my own space.”

“And me running my own seudah.”

“I’d love to get our own space already. I think it would really help me.”

Ephraim’s brows knitted. He didn’t seem to get that last part of what she said, Shira noted. He has no idea how miserable I am.

“So let’s do it. Anything for you, Shira.”

Shira felt pinpricks behind her eyes. Anything? He’d do anything? Then why was she here in Chicago, in her in-laws’ house, miles away from anything she’d ever known or wanted? Was that anything? She reached for and hugged a tasseled throw pillow.

“We’ll talk details after Shabbos, buying, renting, whatever. But we’re gonna do this.”

Shira met his eyes, they were steely with resolve. Was this just Ephraim plowing ahead with an idea? Was it about him, or about her?

“Can’t wait.”

Ephraim stretched like he was being stretched by a taffy puller. “I gotta get to bed.”

Of course he did. Shira just nodded.

S

o much waste. Eva watched as the waiters removed plates from the table. It was all going straight to the garbage, she knew that. She turned to Tova Tennenbaum. They saw each other a few times a year at similar social events.

“What are you up to these days?” she asked.

“I’m so glad you asked, I’ve been meaning to call you, Eva.”

Really?

“I’ve been going on these missions in Israel. And they’re amazing. You’d love it,”

Missions? Like hands-on chesed work? That didn’t seem like Tova’s type.

“You spend half the time in these great classes and shiurim, and the other half on spas, and trips — not seminary trips, but everything taken care of, exclusive access type.”

Eva nodded. She supposed that could be fun. Not really her thing.

“Nice, I actually have my hands full with a project I’m starting, but maybe when everything settles.”

Tova looked curious. “What are you working on?”

Eva cleared her throat and gave her elevator pitch; by now, she’d honed it to two minutes.

Tova dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “Music can be tricky, no?”

“What do you mean?” Eva asked, though she knew exactly what Tova meant.

“Do people even like classical music? All I know is the beginning of Beethoven’s Fifth — it’s nice, but I’m not running to listen to it over Shwekey.”

Eva nodded again, Tova was right on that front.

The waiters arrived with their plates for the main — sliced meat, cholent in ramekins, a spring salad. Not too much. Eva approved.

“Have you ever heard classical music live?” she asked Tova.

Tova was appraising her food, making faces.

“Whatever they play at kabbalas panim at weddings when they have a proper band.”

Eva chuckled. “So, that’s a no.”

Tova didn’t look so sure. Did she really think that counted?

“Would you attend a classical music concert?”

“I wouldn’t choose to go to a classical music concert over any other concert, but if the Pesach program had one, I’d show up. Or if I was on vacation in New York or whatever, and someone offered me tickets, I’d go. I don’t think I’d ever look up a performance. I don’t even know what they’re called.”

“So you’re open to learning.”

Tova shrugged. “I guess.”

That was enough. If she could get Tova on board, she could get others on board.

“I heard your oldest is in Northwestern, how nice!” Tova abruptly changed the subject, and Eva was surprisingly grateful.

“Yes, it was unexpected but nice. He’s living with me now until he and his wife figure out what they want to do.”

Tova’s face furrowed. “How’s that working out — it can be tricky, no?”

Eva took a deep breath. She wasn’t close to Tova; she wasn’t going to give an honest answer. But mostly, she hadn’t really let herself think about it. She’d been excited at first when Ephraim asked to move in, but then it happened, and Eva didn’t really know what to do with herself, so she just continued life as usual, but lately it had been feeling more and more off.

“So far, so good. My daughter-in-law is wonderful.”

“Amazing,” Tova said, though her tone implied: Should I believe you?

Eva laughed and shrugged internally, but she couldn’t quite shake the thought that something should be different.

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 808)