In the hallway of the family wing, she passed her sister Rikki, holding a siddur. Yehudis smiled. “Gut Shabbos.”

“Gut Shabbos,” Rikki mumbled. “Same time, same place?” she asked bitterly.

Yehudis bit her lip. Rikki had been bitter all year, still upset that their father had made her miss her year in Eretz Yisrael and do local seminary instead.

“Well,” Rikki continued. “So marriage is not our ticket out of here, huh?”

Yehudis fingered her necklace awkwardly. “It’s fine. Sruly didn’t mind coming.”

And if she minded? Well, it would be okay. It was only one Shabbos.

But an hour later, after her father made Kiddush for all the ladies and they sat down in the small room off the kitchen for their quiet little seudah, nothing was okay anymore.

Shaya; it was always Shaya. And he didn’t even do trouble — he was a good kid. But when Yehudis returned from the sink, slipping her rings back on, the air was thick with a familiar tension. It was soundless this time — they were all waiting to make hamotzi — but you couldn’t miss the daggers shooting from her mother’s eyes, directed on Shaya’s expressionless face.

She couldn’t miss it. But she silently prayed that Sruly would.

W

ith one glance, Leebie identified her new guests.

The first one was young. Really, really young, like, not a day older than 20. Which meant this was her first baby, and she’d probably come to Akeres against her will.

The second one was tired. She looked like she was a seasoned Akeres visitor, relaxing in one of the lobby armchairs with one foot rocking her baby’s car seat.

The third one was Rochel Rosner.

“Rochel!” Leebie exclaimed. “Mazel tov! Is that a little baby boy?”

It was, and Leebie silently acknowledged the enormity of this simchah. Rochel was her old neighbor Shifra Mandelbaum’s daughter. She’d had babies one and two very quickly, and then she didn’t have another child for many, many years. And now… “What a beautiful little tzaddik,” Leebie said softly.

Rochel’s eyes twinkled with happiness. “And you also get a mazel tov, right?” she asked. “Didn’t your Yehudis get married recently? How’s she doing?”

“Yes, yes… Thank you….”

She skipped the “how’s she doing” part. What should she say? That she was doing her best to distance herself from Leebie?

The sour taste that had accompanied her throughout Shabbos rose once again. Yehudis had acted like a complete stranger, as though her new last name had cut her off from the family. It wasn’t anything she’d done, but the polite… formality that had surrounded her all Shabbos just… stung.

The young mother was looking lost, and the one in the armchair was growing impatient. The husbands were still around, not sure what they were supposed to do. This was not the time to ruminate.

She tapped on her screen to open the guest portal. “Okay, let’s get you mommies settled in here. We have Rochel, the prince’s mother, and let’s see, you are?” she asked, addressing the young mother.

“Chaya Malka Grunstein.”

Leebie tenderly admired the other two newborns. Then they tagged their car seats and luggage, and she handed each of them an electronic key necklace. “Now bring your babies, we’ll drop them off at the nursery first. After that I’ll show you around and take you to your rooms so you can settle in before dinner.”

Their husbands left. Leebie ushered the women down the hallway to the elevators. The tired mother shuffled behind them — probably one of those who’d come straight from the hospital — and Leebie automatically slowed her pace.

In a small room adjacent to the nursery, the nurses got to work changing the babies, and Leebie took the opportunity to get to know her new guests. The young mother, as she’d suspected, had wanted to move in with her parents after the birth, but her seven-year-old brother had been diagnosed with leukemia a month before she had the baby, so there was no way her parents could host her.

Leebie’s heart went out to her. Forget the hosting — what a bittersweet simchah this must be. She remembered when her daughter-in-law Baila had had her Mordechai. She’d been out of things for the first two weeks, and completely relied on her mother’s hospitality while she recuperated and figured out the first steps of motherhood. Akeres may be paradise, but first-time mothers need their mothers.

The babies were wheeled into the nursery, and Leebie led the women to the dining room, then showed them the tearoom and multiple lounges. As they walked around, she explained the heim’s meal and feeding schedules, as well as Akeres’s basic rules. “Don’t worry if you’re confused,” she told them, winking. “The ladies say it takes twenty-four hours to orient yourself in this place, so that’s normal.”

On the way to their rooms, Leebie stopped at a towering set of double doors.

“Here’s the exit to the garden,” she told her guests. “You’re lucky to have spring babies. This is where all the action happens during this season.”

While the women took in the sprawling lawn, breathtaking landscaping, and the mothers sitting in a circle of zero-gravity chairs, gesticulating in conversation, Leebie placed a gentle hand on Chaya Malka’s shoulder, caught her gaze, and gave a small, meaningful nod.

The young mother closed her eyes and slowly filled her lungs.

“Take down my number,” Leebie whispered. “And call me if you need help with anything. First babies are, well… first babies.”

“Thank you,” Chaya Malka said with unmasked relief. “That’s so… thank you, really.”

Leebie smiled. “My pleasure. That’s what I’m here for.”

W

hat was less of a pleasure was the boring work that awaited her back in her office. Of course, this was what she’d been hired to do, over a decade ago. She smiled at the memory. She’d been the “earring lady” at that time, coming down to Akeres twice a week to pierce the ears of baby girls, and it was during one such visit that Perl Breuer had met her, informally interviewed her, and offered her a secretarial job on the spot.

Welcoming mothers and tending to their needs had been added to her job a little later. And if not for that — the caring for all those mothers and babies — she would’ve quit this mind-numbing job a hundred times.

Now, Perl plonked her hands down on her desk the moment Leebie entered. “Leebie. Great, I was waiting for you.”

“What’s up?” Leebie asked, making an effort to sound enthusiastic.

What was up was exactly the stuff Leebie dreaded. Vendor orders, kitchen staff schedules, cleaning supplies, payroll.

If she’d have the courage, she’d ask Perl to hire some young graduate to handle the tedious office work, while she spent all her work hours hosting their guests, making them feel cherished and understood, which was just as important to new mothers as being well fed and rested.

But Perl was her boss, and Leebie’s opinion about her skills didn’t carry weight. She shuffled over to her desk and resigned herself to the afternoon’s demands. The swift crash down from the wedding high made the work all the more dull.

What truly astounded her was the way Perl didn’t need to feign any enthusiasm. The woman seemed to actually enjoy sitting at a desk for hours on end, without interacting with another human being.

“What did they serve for lunch today?” she asked Leebie. “I just realized that I haven’t eaten a thing since breakfast.”

See?

“It’s the every-other-Tuesday Tuesday today,” Leebie said, “which means sea bass. Maybe they have some left for you.”

“Oooh,” Perl effused. “I sure hope so!” She dialed the kitchen extension. “Any food left from lunch?”

There was, apparently, and Leebie listened to her ask one of the kitchen hands to bring a portion to the office. That, Leebie mused silently, was their underlying difference. She would have pounced at the opportunity to leave the office, while Perl was thrilled to be able to stay in her swivel chair for yet more hours.

Okay, focus. The faster she got her work done, the sooner she could leave. She devoted her concentration to her tasks, until 3:00, when it was time to go check up on the nursery and then on dinner prep.

On her way, Leebie made a stop in the tearoom to get her last coffee for the day. A gathering of ladies stood near the counters, choosing from the fresh cakes and pastries that had just come out.

One of the mothers, a tall woman in a pretty pink tichel, noticed her and came over. “Hey, Mrs…?”

“Herzog.”

“Right. So, um, I was wondering. The thermostat in my room isn’t working. It’s really hot in there, no matter how I set the temperature.”

Leebie resisted a grin. Air conditioning, when it was 60 degrees outside… But she knew kimpeturins, they were always hot.

“I’m sorry about that,” she told the woman. “I’ll get someone to go check what’s wrong. What’s your room number?”

She marked it down on her tablet, then headed over to the Keurig.

As the brew trickled into her cup, she overheard some women schmoozing.

“I signed him up for art lessons. I don’t know if he has any real talent, but he loves to draw, so I figured, let him have this outlet.”

Leebie perked her ears. Art lessons? Maybe….

She ambled over to the cluster of women. Sometimes she wished she could just be part of them. Long slinky skirts and hoodies, tichels, slippers. Exactly what Akeres aimed for — complete relaxation. Leebie stood out in her sheitel, shoes, and formal outfit.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she said to a woman in cute white sneakers and a figure that did not offer a hint that she’d just given birth. “I heard you talking about art lessons. I’m curious if you live in my neighborhood?”

She did, and Leebie eagerly took down the number of the art teacher. “I think my son would love such a thing,” she explained. “He’s a creative spirit.”

And a scatterbrained, untamed creature, she refrained from adding.

A flicker of hope kindled in her chest. Who knew? Maybe a quiet, structured setting, doing something he enjoyed, would do something to Shaya? Make him land in this world?

Yeah, sure. If only. And yet, it was her duty to at least try, right? Shaya suffered so much from his all-over-the-place-ness, she wished she could somehow help him.

In the nursery, Leebie did her rounds, getting reports from all the nurses, picking up a crying infant to soothe her. She noticed Ita standing at the window to the feeding room, talking to the waiting mothers, and carefully stayed away. She did not have the time or headspace to listen to that woman’s latest gossip. Dealing with her for Yehudis’s shidduch had been more than enough.

Too late. Ita had spied her and was snapping her fingers to summon her over. Leebie trudged over to her window half-heartedly.

“One of the mothers was looking for you. Esther Gross? She said you gave her your number, but she lost it.”

Leebie kept her face even as she gave a curt nod.

Ita gave a cold laugh as she lifted a baby out of its crib. “If you’re offering free therapy sessions, maybe I should sign up. Huh?”

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 917)