Page 24 of The Dreidl Disaster

“Good,” he said as he settled into his seat. “I think the Cohens are ready for what’s going to happen. More importantly, they trust that you and I will be ready to handle tomorrow’s meeting.”

“That’s what I thought too,” she said. “The power of babka.”

She could see his smile just out of the corner of her eye.

“Yes,” he said. “Babka and pure understanding.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed, and she wondered what was going through his head; did it have to do with his expression and the tension at the dessert table?

“The Cohens were treated horribly by a previous PR person,” he said. “You know it bothers me. They were set up for interviews and conversations, because Tyler’s a superstar, but the person wasn’t sensitive.”

“Right.” Didn’t they have this conversation already?

“Anyway,” he continued, as if she hadn’t said anything, “there’s a difference between following someone’s house rules and understanding them. I brought a parve babka from a meat shop and didn’t ask for sour cream with the blintzes. I didn’t even carry sour cream because…”

“You know the Cohens are sensitive.”

There wasn’t an immediate response, but in the darkness when they were stopped at the light, she heard at soft “Yeah.”

“So the table?”

He laughed, and she wished she could see the expression on his face. “Yeah. Feelings.”

“About the sour cream?” she asked, just wanting to make sure.

“Some people have cigars; others have sour cream. I’d say it was an emotional support condiment, but I think it’s more than that.”

“My sister has pickles,” she finally said, not knowing whether Naomi had gotten over the pickle obsession. “Which is not exactly secret but not exactly open either.”

“Do you have one?”

Not a food one, but she wasn’t going to tell him about her figurines just yet. “I don’t. I just keep track of everybody else’s.”

“And you don’t have a question?”

There was something about the tone, the words…something, that made her not just randomly dismiss it. Surprise that she understood? Surprise that she didn’t react?

It didn’t matter. “If I didn’t question my sister and her need for everything pickle,” she said as clearly and as carefully as she could, “I wouldn’t question your sour cream.”

And when she made the turn into her development, she realized she’d never been so upset to be home in her lifetime.

Thursday was going to be ridiculously busy: strategy session upon strategy session, and then the meeting itself. Yet despite all of that, and how much of a horrible idea it was going to be, she didn’t want the night to end.

As she pulled into her driveway, she had an idea.

“Your jacket,” she said. “I need to get it for you. Do you want to come in while I get it?”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “Yes. I’ll even throw in one of those warm drinks I owe you.”

“Then,” he said, “I’ll take you up on it.”

Of course, she had no idea what she was doing, but she was going to figure it out.

*

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