For the past few days, he’d been waiting for a sign, an omen, a smoke signal — anything at all — to show him what his next step should be

T

he weekend in Aruba had been rejuvenating.

Libby and the kids had the time of their lives. At least Akiva assumed they did — he hadn’t really seen much of them.

Daddy’s idea of vacation was to work in the hotel conference room, air conditioner blasting, laptops and tablets balanced on laps, out of harm’s way from the steady supply of food and drink Vanessa kept placing on the oversized mahogany table.

Monday brought school and routine, cranky children and sunburns. It also brought an ache to Akiva’s side. It was like that horrible feeling he’d gotten after eating a plateful of veal at the Beth Israel dinner last year.

But what was hurting him now had nothing to do with fine cuisine; it was the whole Abrams Architecture thing. Daddy had been harassing him about it the entire weekend.

“Ungrateful pipsqueak thinks he can start his own company?” he’d grumbled, hitting mute on Mr. Wong and Mr. McLaughlin’s presentation.

Akiva had just shrugged. He refused to get pulled into this. Not by Baruch and not by his father.

Libby, though, was fast losing patience with the saga.

“Baruch had to go so Menashe could join. It’s annoying and unfair, but that’s what happened. What did everyone expect him to do with all his expertise and experience? Sell used cars?”

The woman was right, but try telling that to Daddy.

Now, Akiva should be on his way to the office. Daddy had already texted twice and voice noted once that Akiva was late and they needed him. Yet somehow, his feet were still firmly clad in the Manolo suede mules Libby had bought him for Chanukah.

He didn’t really feel like doing anything, honestly. Libby was at the gym with Dassi, the kids were at school, and everyone else he knew was either at work or kollel.

Baruch would laugh, would say he’s feeling lonely because he’s the only guy in the world who won’t get fired for not showing up to work. At least the old Baruch would.

The new Baruch would offer an inspirational quote about motivation and creativity. A line that sounded like it was coming straight off a watercolored poster. Or, more accurately, the mouth of one blond, snide marketing strategist.

Akiva really hated that guy.