“My sister-in-law…” Libby started. She stopped. Why was she sharing this with the live-in help? But her mouth kept going. “She was under a lot of pressure. To be a certain way.”

Vanessa nodded, her mouth trembling slightly. “I knew she was taking the meds. I knew, but I couldn’t tell anyone. She told me not to.”

Libby was torn between anger and wanting to comfort her old maid; she settled for reaching out and placing a hand on the older woman’s.

Encouraged, Vanessa continued. “Two times she fell. Fainted, I think. And lots of crying, yes, and also yelling. And more crying.”

Libby nodded, slightly nauseous. Her little sister-in-law had been rattling around this enormous house in tremendous pain and no one had known.

Menashe kept reminding them that Dassi hadn’t been well for months and he’d been managing just fine, but Vanessa mumbled that the kids ate yogurt for dinner most nights and that Menashe was never around, ever.

Which broke her heart even more, and had Akiva promising they’d take care of the little cuties. And everything else.

For a moment, the role had felt familiar and comfortable and so very, very nice, like slipping on Chanel loafers that had already molded to the shape of your feet.

Akiva would make the calls, flash that Frankel grin, and have the results in by noon. She would make her calls to Pop-ins babysitting agency, to Olive Oil for their full week’s menu, including Shabbos, and then do something completely unnecessary, like buy new linens or a cozy area rug for Dassi’s room at the center, which would be perfectly luxurious just the way it was.

But then she remembered that she and Akiva taking care of everything now meant starting from scratch and employing hard work. And while she wanted to help Menashe and Dassi, she also had zero desire to add more hard work to her already exhausting schedule.

HEwatched her as she arranged babysitting for Binny and Eliana; they couldn’t regularly rely on Deena, not if they wanted things to actually get done while Libby was spending some afternoons at Menashe and Dassi’s house.

He felt terrible for placing this new burden on her already aching shoulders. But if there’s one thing a Frankel knows, it’s that you do anything for family. Even if you have no money, because your first house flip didn’t leave you with that much profit, considering that you had to pay exorbitant high school tuition.

“Libs… you’re amazing.”

She smiled tightly.

“We should have known, no? Ma wanted to call off the shidduch, remember? Said people kept using the word delicate to describe Dassi? And Menashe put his foot down?”

Libby looked at him. “I remember. Well, then, you’d think Mommy would have laid off the comments about baby weight and Botox, no?”

Akiva winced, an instinctive reaction to hearing his wife criticize his mother. But she was right. Dassi had always been delicate. She wasn’t from “their” circles, but Menashe’s friend had been the shadchan, and Menashe had been insistent on meeting her. And then on marrying her.

Eretz Yisrael had been far, far away. Come to think of it, that was probably why they had been allowed to stay in the honeymoon phase for so long. So Mommy wouldn’t have to spend too much time with Dassi, wouldn’t have to deal with the ramifications of having a daughter-in-law who lacked that Frankel pizazz.

He tiredly jabbed at his phone.

“Sherman? It’s Frankel.”

“Hello, Akiva. We have a room for you, our largest suite, starting tomorrow.”

“Wonderful, thank you so much.”

“When can you come for a tour?” Sherman continued, his voice enthusiastic. “I’d love to show you the grounds. As one of the only kosher treatments in the country, we actually have a far more comprehensive vision, and I’d love to get your expert insights.”

And there it was.

The library. The tennis courts. The pool. The golden ticket, part and parcel of every Frankel deal.

“Sounds wonderful,” Akiva blustered. “I’ll get right back to you with scheduling.”

His cell rang as he was hanging up. Menashe.

His brother didn’t have time for pleasantries. “Akiva, you did not mention this was going to cost me $40,000 a month. What exactly can a treatment center do for $40,000 a month? Personality implant?”

Akiva laughed weakly.

When was he supposed to tell Menashe about the new addition he was expected to donate to Langer’s Health Center? He had a feeling “never” was the right answer to that.

Libby poked her head into the gardens. Ma was sitting at a picturesque wrought iron table, sipping a cup of tea.

“Hellooo,” she called out cheerily.

Her mother-in-law waited until she was across from her to return the greeting; a Frankel didn’t yell across gardens.

“So what’s this about Dassi flying to Miami to have some work done?” Ma said after the niceties had been exchanged.

Libby blinked; was that Menashe’s story? Wow.

“Oh, yes, she was ready for a change,” she said brightly. Ha-ha-ha.

“Well, if it’s anything facial, I hope she’d have the good sense to use Dr. Charles, right here in the city.”

Libby nodded. “I’ll remind her.”

“Menashe said that she’ll be there for a while, going to make a whole vacation out of it. I really hope that when she gets back, she’ll be able to step up to the plate. She hasn’t joined a single event committee since she moved here. And I know Michelle Lehrer asked her to join, and she just gave her a flat no. Can you believe it?”

Libby smiled, feeling her smile stretch tightly. Sorry, Dr. Charles.

“She was busy, Mommy.”

“Not too busy to go to Miami.”

Well, there was nothing to say after that.

To be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 985)