Oh, Chana, I chided myself. You just walked into a popularity contest

She wasn’t talking. Her lips were pursed. I could tell it was gonna be a no. But I had to wait for Yehudis to actually say it. I looked around, taking in Yehudis’s living room. She had a white couch; that probably sums her up.

“The more I get to know you, the more you impress me,” Yehudis finally started. Well, that was unexpected. “You’re really stepping into the role and responsibility of a rebbetzin.” She paused again. “But I don’t think I can allow you to give the Neshei contact list to your friend.”

I waited silently. Let her explain herself. Learned this trick from Avrumi.

“I’m sure she’s a wonderful and worthy person, I’m not questioning that. And it’s unfortunate that she’s in such a tough situation, and it’s beautiful that you’re looking for ways to help her grow her catering business. But giving out a contact list is an invasion of privacy to the Neshei members. They come for the community, not to be inundated with unsolicited emails, phone calls, and the like.”

This was her argument? I put down the Nespresso Yehudis had insisted on, and faced her head-on.

“It’s just a list of phone numbers. She can also open a telephone book. This just makes it a little easier.”

Yehudis’s eyes sparked.

“Exactly.”

“I’m not following.”

“Rebbetzin, you’re not in the business world. Lists like the Neshei’s are very valuable. Like you said, it makes it easier. Any business owner gets ahold of this, and she knows it’s a list of women in a certain age range, background, likely socioeconomic level. If this is their target customer, it’s a gold mine.”

I shook my head. I got it, but I didn’t get it. “This paper is hanging on my fridge, I think it might have some soy sauce on it. You’re telling me it’s worth money?”

Yehudis pursed her lips. “We don’t sell the list because that’s not what the Neshei is for. Also, like I said before, privacy.”

“What if she wanted to join the Neshei? She was at the shiur the other day.” I paused. “I don’t know if you noticed her.”

Yehudis’s eyes narrowed. Maybe pointing that out wasn’t wise. But it was key to my point.

“Remember, Dahlia doesn’t have a husband to attend minyan, and she has a little kid, so coming to shul on Shabbos isn’t really an option.” I stopped, then tacked on brightly, “I think there’s room to consider her an honorary member of the shul.”

Yehudis tapped her fingertips against each other. “Rebbetzin, you obviously care a lot about this. You wanted to talk to me face-to-face, not just over the phone. But I’m not sure you know how a big a thing you’re asking. I appreciate your dedication, but it’s still no.”

Yehudis took a sip of her own coffee and chuckled, “It’s not like I’m an insurance company that everyone knows is ridiculous and you just need to find a loophole in the nitty-gritty rules to get approved. I really don’t think it’s appropriate to give her the list.”

She wasn’t going to budge. Was it me? Or would she say this to anyone?

I nodded. “I hear you, Yehudis. Like you said, I care a lot about this. So I’m gonna push a little further. Do you mind if we ask the other Neshei chairwomen how they feel about this?”

Yehudis sucked her lips and then her expression changed. She smiled at me. “Sure. You’re right. I shouldn’t be making a decision like this executively.”

Oh, Chana, I chided myself. You just walked into a popularity contest.