Page 2 of The Dreidl Disaster

Which begged the question, as far as Liv was concerned, why would a religious service conducted when Flaire thought the Jewish population would be having services, exclude the Jewish residents, considering the holiday being commemorated was a uniquely Jewish one? But the noise in the room disrupted her thoughts, and reminded her of where she was, and more importantly who she was. Which meant she needed to focus on the next hand raised.

Which of course, belonged to Jennifer Cohen. Jennifer was President of the Briarwood Synagogue’s Sisterhood, as well as the mother of the Empires player who had initiated all of this.

“I had a brief question, Flaire. I wanted to thank you for organizing all of this,” Jennifer Cohen said, looking to Liv as if she was holding back a great deal of stronger emotions. “But exactly where did you come up with the…gelt hunt?”

“Oh, Mrs. Cohen,” said Flaire, seemingly oblivious to the fact that if looks could kill, Jennifer Cohen would be murdering her at this exact moment. “Thank you so much for connecting the team with this beautiful town. Hunting for eggs and other sorts of scavenger hunts is one of my favorite things from childhood, and children love finding things, so I thought it would be a wonderful way to celebrate the holiday and have kids finding chocolate.”

The expressions on some of the other committee members’ faces were even angrier. “I’m going to table this section and move on,” Liv said, feeling the sudden rise of temperature in the room “Questions about the food section?”

Of course it was Frank Maricelli who raised his hand. Maricelli, owner of the Pasta Station, was deeply involved in the Chamber of Commerce’s restaurant committee. “Where’s the oil? My buddy from Rivertown was telling me about the Hanukkah food and that it needs oil?”

“Oil isn’t healthy,” Flaire replied. “Apples and honey are so much better, as well as the m…a…taza crackers.”

The next hand raised belonged to Paul Levitan, the owner of Levitan’s Deli. Liv settled in for the comment.

“My wife,” Paul began, “makes a whole bunch of cookies for Jewish holidays and I’ve never heard of jelly-filled triangle cookies before. Can you talk about them?”

Flaire nodded, her eyes wide, and Liv was nervous; Paul Levitan’s wife owned the county favorite Caf and Nosh in Hollowville. “They’re called something else but they’re triangles with filling. They’re a very Jewish cookie, and they’d be perfect now.”

And as the anger roiled in the group, Liv knew it was time to cut everything off. “Okay. I think we’ve covered everything that we can cover now. Flaire, come to my office tomorrow morning and we’ll talk further.”

*

Of course theend of the meeting preceded phone calls and emails from citizens who noticed anything from the horrible graphics of the presentation with the inconsistent lettering on the dreidls, to the contents each of the commenters had picked up.

Liv had made her own decisions, but there were times when she, as mayor, needed to make decisions based on the citizens she represented. And luckily, there were times when the citizenship agreed with her. This was one of them.

“So,” Liv said after Flaire had settled in. “The committee has decided to not only reject the proposal but declared that it’s unfixable.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Flaire, before she left the office, and probably the town, at 9:50 for the final time.

As the door closed behind Flaire, Liv moved on, picking up the office phone and started to dial her contact within the Empires organization, the man directly in charge of the junior rep he sent.

Three rings.

“Hello, this is John Stevens.”

“John,” she said. “Livvy Nachman calling.”

“Livvy. Mayor Nachman. Hi,” he said. “How are things in Briarwood?”

“Things have gotten out of control and need to be fixed,” she said.

“What do you mean? Flaire said she’s been enjoying herself in the village.” He paused. “She said it’s like she’s in a HeartPix movie.”

“Glad to hear she’s been enjoying herself,” Livvy said, holding back the snort that desperately wanted to erupt from her nose. “The entire town, including Jennifer and Peter Cohen, feel she’s in a HeartPix movie, but not necessarily one that would, say, end up with the joyful presentation of a dreidl made out of hockey sticks.”

There was a long pause before Stevens started to speak. She wasn’t sure what rendered him speechless, but she’d bet money it was the fact she’d name-dropped Jennifer and Peter Cohen. After all, Jennifer and her husband Peter were the ones Stevens had to impress.

“What’s she done now?”

Liv sighed and launched into an explanation of the committee meeting and the fact that the committee had concluded the proposal was not only unacceptable, but also unfixable. “Basically,” Liv continued, “the proposal she created, and the way she answered questions about it, displayed a complete lack of knowledge about Judaism and a total disregard for Jewish customs in general, the celebration that we’re creating, and the town.”

As the silence extended, Liv had a mental image of a drawing sitting in front of Stevens’s desk, with a bull’s-eye over an image of her face.

In red.

She wondered if the man had simply dropped dead, sitting there holding the phone. And yet, erupting out of nowhere, there was a deep, angry noise. “What would you like me to do, Mayor Nachman?”

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