Okay, there was no siman brachah in counting one’s savings, but… she counted their savings. In her head, because there was no need to refer to any sheets.

Then she calculated their fixed income. Deducted their fixed expenses.

“It’s your favorite pastime, isn’t it?” Yechiel always teased her.

It wasn’t a pastime; it was a bit of an obsession. As though doing the math would make the numbers change.

The crazy part was that they’d managed to save an impressive sum. But housing prices had all but doubled over the past four years, so their impressive sum wouldn’t get them very far. Apparently, the only property they could afford to buy was an apartment smaller and uglier than the one they lived in now.

And even that, only with Tatty’s help… she thought grimly.

Maybe they were making a mistake. Maybe they should invest this impressive sum elsewhere, allow the value to increase, and then revisit her buy-a-house dream? She would need to discuss this with Yechiel.

Her boss suddenly appeared next to her desk. “Does this name look familiar?”

With a stab of guilt, Raizy minimized her email and looked at the printout in Mrs. Heimfeld’s hand. It was another résumé, and no, the name did not look familiar.

“Do you want me to call her references?” she offered.

“Yes, please. I’d appreciate that. Let me know if this sounds promising. I can’t believe how impossible it is to find a good worker these days. I’d really like to hire someone soon. If we’re going to get the NLL account, we’re going to need a larger staff, and none of the names that came in so far had any potential.”

Raizy nodded and took the paper.

She’d call those references, no problem. But really, didn’t Mrs. Heimfeld have faith that she could swing the NLL account?

S

ometimes, Leebie used the excuse of her kitchen inspections for the simple pleasure of inhaling the insane aromas.

She passed the bakery, closing her eyes to allow the sweet smell of freshly baked corn and chocolate chip muffins to fill her senses. When people said it was worth giving birth just to come stay at Akeres, they must be referring to this.

In the fleishig wing of the kitchen, she greeted the kitchen staff and checked out that night’s dinner menu. An appetizer of pulled beef over eggplant cutlets on a bed of mashed beans. Cream of mushroom soup. Fried chicken steaks served in a heavenly white cream sauce, Chinese rice, vegetable towers.

She approached Machla Sommers, that night’s dinner chef, and exclaimed, “I would almost give up my afternoon coffee for this!”

Machla winked. “You really should. And leave a review on my LinkedIn page that doesn’t exist.”

Leebie did her kitchen rounds, then spent a few minutes marking down the ingredients that needed to be restocked. On her way out, she passed Machla again, and the chef swiped her hands on her Akeres apron. “There’s plenty extra food tonight,” she said. “With all those mothers who pushed off coming at the last minute…. feel free to take some home.”

“Hey, what a treat. I’ll totally take you up on that offer.”

Amazing. Yay. If there was any perk to working at Akeres, free gourmet meals definitely ranked pretty high. And on a day when she hadn’t managed to make supper in advance, it was like a mini miracle.

Okay, next. The feeding room. She had to go check on the mothers and babies one last time before she left for the day. “I’ll come back for the food before I leave,” she told Machla.

The echo of over 100 women’s voices mixed with the high-pitched wails of newborns hit her ears as she entered the cavernous feeding room. Once again, she marveled at how, no matter how many times she walked into this room, her heart always melted at the sweetness of this mother-baby experience. Tiny, helpless beings, completely dependent on their mothers, completely trusting; and the mothers, embracing their little bundles, so content to fill their natural roles.

She poked her head through the window at the counter that separated the feeding room from the nursery. “How’s it going?” she asked Slavi, a young new nurse with a long, curly ponytail.

“Good, except I can’t reach Mrs. Neuberg, Room 226. Her baby is screaming, and it says on his chart not to give him a bottle.”

Leebie dialed the mother but there was no response. She approached the first section of armchairs and called out, “Mrs. Neuberg? Chanie Neuberg? Did anyone see her around?”

“She’s out in the garden,” one of the mothers volunteered.

Oh, okay. A trip out to the garden — whatever this job demanded.

“Hey, Leebie.”

She turned to the second nursery window, where Ita Kratz was waving her over. “Did you see Malky Oster?” she said, glancing around and keeping her tone low. “I couldn’t believe she had another baby! Do you know how old she is? She’s forty-nine! Turning fifty in August. Can you imagine? She has two married children, and guess what? She has a kallah at home, and another daughter in shidduchim.”

“Ita….”

“I know, this is none of my business, but come on, Leebie. This woman has five grandchildren!”

“Uh, I need to run out to the garden to get a mother. Her baby’s screaming….”

She waved and walked off before Ita could say another word.

In the garden, Leebie spotted Mrs. Neuberg in the center of a heated argument with five other women next to the water fountain.

“Your baby misses you a whole lot,” she told her, and the mother jumped, grabbed her phone, and yelped, “Yikes! I have nine missed calls from the nursery! My phone was on vibrate and I totally missed it.”

She sprinted inside — a sign of a woman who’d gotten some proper convalescence. Leebie smiled to herself. It was gratifying to be part of this incredible process.

“And what about the rest of you?” she asked the other women. “Don’t your babies need to eat?”

Four of them shook their heads, one glanced at her watch, gave a guilty grimace, and headed inside.

“Mrs. Herzog,” one of the women addressed her. “I was just telling my mother how you people spoil us here. I’m seriously scared to go home. How am I going to cope? Nobody’s going to take care of my baby, and definitely not make me all those elaborate meals. I’ll be lucky if I have time to drink a coffee.”

Leebie grinned. “Is that a complaint?”

“Ha, absolutely not, but guess what? My mother invited me to come stay at her house for another week after I leave. So I guess that will make the transition easier.”

Which led to a whole new conversation about mothers helping married daughters, and the four women took off yapping again.

Leebie walked away, wondering. Did she help her married children enough? Amram gave Dovid and Baila money before Yamim Tovim, and she always picked out cute clothing for their baby, Mordechai. And they came for Shabbos from time to time. Was she meant to babysit her grandson? How and when exactly? She did send Rikki over sometimes when Baila had a simchah….

Maybe it was different, because Baila was a daughter-in-law. And, im yirtzeh Hashem, when Yehudis had a baby, of course she’d host her — either at home, or at Akeres, wherever she preferred.

She passed the nursery and headed upstairs to her office.

Shabbos, she thought. Most couples were invited to their parents for Shabbos seudos.

Well, the first Shabbos after the wedding had been Shabbos sheva brachos. The second Shabbos, Leebie had subbed for Tziporah at Akeres. Now, she’d formally invited Yehudis, but Yehudis had immediately declined. “Sruly’s parents invited us.”

Nothing wrong with that, except that there was no… disappointment in Yehudis’s voice. Wasn’t she excited to come to the Herzogs with her new husband for a seudah?

And the next week would be a heim Shabbos again — Leebie’s official turn in the rotation — so she wouldn’t be able to host them either.

Hum.

She was sitting down at her desk to write up a list for the mohel for his next day’s rounds when it occurred to her: supper.

Immediately, she dialed Yehudis, who would be on her afternoon recess break then. “You didn’t cook supper yet, right?”

“No,” Yehudis said. “Why?”

“I’m bringing home delicious food from Akeres. Do you want to get some for you and Sruly?”

There was a very obvious relief in her voice. “Of course. Thank you so much, Ma!”

Leebie’s chest felt warm. It was such a simple favor, she should do this more often. Akeres food, or her own suppers. Yehudis must be so overwhelmed with this whole new cooking business.

But a few hours later, when Yehudis showed up at her house to get the food, the warmth in her chest vanished.

“Uh, Ma…” Yehudis stammered, folding up some kid’s school note on the counter. “So like, it’s weird. Sruly asked… I mean, is there some sort of arrangement about our rent that I’m not aware of? With you and Tatty…?”

Leebie stared at her. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Some sort of support that Sruly’s referring to.” Her face was red. “I know this wasn’t the plan, and, uh… I don’t know! This is what his parents told him, and I have no idea what he’s talking about!”

The words sloshed in Leebie’s head. Rent. Arrangement. Support. A dizziness swept over her. Yehudis was gauging her reaction, but she couldn’t string together a coherent thought. The only sensible step she could take was to stall. Say nothing, play it safe.

Silently, Leebie opened the fridge, took out the bags of food she’d brought home from Akeres, and handed them to Yehudis. It took incredible effort to keep her voice steady as she said, “Here, there’s an appetizer, soup, and main inside. And about the rent… I’m going to talk to Tatty.”

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 921)