“But then I’ll never know what a Leil Shishi is,” she said playfully, but he missed that it was a joke and got all serious

The second Lauer son was invited to the same private tzedakah function as Shea Helberg, and he waited for a quiet moment.

The crowd wasn’t large and the Lauer son didn’t have to wait long. There was a very short speech, a few songs played by a string quartet in tuxedos, and then it was networking time, waiters rolling out trays of marinated strips of meat and hot stones to grill them.

This earned a moment of focus from the crowd, but then the people moved on.

Near the couches in the backyard, at which fresh cigars were being rolled, Helberg was checking his phone, seemingly annoyed at whatever he was seeing, so Lauer figured he had nothing to lose.

“Hey,” he said lightly, and Helberg looked up and smiled. It was the rich guy look, polite and vacant and how can I help you.

Whatever, he would take it. “Shloimy Lauer,” he introduced himself. “We met a few months ago, from Second Stage Living.”

“Sure, of course I know you guys,” Helberg said. “My in-laws live in your development, we talked a while back, I remember well. You guys built something great, when you going for Phase Two?”

“We want to,” Lauer said. “We have the land and we have the permits, but we’re waiting for the right time, you know?”

“Yeah, I chap, you want Phase One to be super-hot and then you’ll launch.” Helberg put down his phone. “But from what I’m hearing, you’re well on the way. It’s working nicely.”

“Oh?” It intrigued Shloimy Lauer that someone like Shea Helberg could be aware of something as mundane as how his in-laws were faring, whether or not they had friends, and if the pipes made noise or not.

“Yeah, the guy you put in there, from Queens, he’s my shver’s neighbor, and he’s working overtime to get the place running well. He’s good. Give it a bit more time and that development will be so well run it will be the envy of the whole Lakewood.”

“Amen,” Shloimy Lauer said, then smiled broadly, unsure how to end the conversation and feeling silly, like someone who had just stopped a celebrity to take a picture.

“Hatzlachah,” Helberg said, back to being the gracious, polite gvir again.