“The créme de la créme of Boston society, here to say mazel tov”

HE

straightened his hat, then tilted it ever so slightly to the side. There, that’s the angle.

He gave his reflection a little salute. Yonah Rosen, married man. As of five days ago, that is. Well, he was ready. He turned around briskly to find his wife (!). Estee had three little bags spread out on the console and was scrutinizing each one. He left her to the decision that he could offer absolutely no advice on and looked around happily.

“How cute is this chassan-kallah apartment? I remember my siblings staying here after their weddings. The Cohens go all out for this mitzvah — did you see the Just Married joke sheet Mrs. Cohen left on the counter?”

Estee looked up, a guilty expression on her face.

“Oh, I was wondering what that was… I used it as a coaster for my coffee.”

Yonah blinked at her.

“Oh! That’s okay. Totally okay. It was just some lines about marrying Mrs. Right, first name Always, blah blah.”

Estee smiled faintly and scooped up a black sparkly bag. “Okay, this is the winner.”

Yonah punched the air. “I was rooting for that one.”

Estee wrinkled her nose. “You were?”

Yonah laughed. “Uh, maybe….”