Page 29 of The Dreidl Disaster

“What’s for dinner?”

“Don’t think I’ll let you have any if you didn’t bring dessert…”

For effect, he lifted the paper bag holding the babka, being careful not to destroy it. “Have dessert, will travel,” he said, smiling as he opened the door to put his coat away. “I didn’t get the wine but there was a meeting.”

“There’s always a meeting,” Batya.

“So,” Artur said as he turned toward Leo, “you have something to tell me.”

“About how Briarwood’s last campaign for mayor ended up in a gossip ring, which annoyed the Chamber of Commerce enough where they basically forced a longstanding business to not only close, but the family to leave town?”

Artur blinked. “What?”

“You’re kidding,” Batya said. “That is ridiculous.”

“Nope.” Leo sat back and told the story, explaining how the candidates and the story shook Briarwood. “But as a result, you have a pack of Dobermans ready to pounce on anybody who comes anywhere near the mayor.”

Which was a wild bit of information to digest.

Thankfully there was dairy and a ton of sour cream in all areas of the dinner table. He adored his friends.

And when dinner was done and he and Leo were bringing dishes to the counter by the dishwasher, he asked, “So the money was?”

“Frank Maricelli’s contribution to theget McManus out of townplan. Paul Levitan did the deal and in exchange, when McManus’s was fully empty…”

“Levitan was offered the space.”

Leo nodded. “Bingo.”

Which was a ton more information to digest than he’d expected. Thankfully, there was the babka and coffee and minutes for him to compose himself. But when they finished and it was time for him to head off to the meeting, Abe and Sapna arguing about dishes, Batya walked him to the door.

“What’s up?” he asked, because of course there was something on her mind; it was obvious. He knew body language too well, and he’d known her since high school.

“You sure you don’t want us to come with you?” Batya asked, grinning up at him.

He raised an eyebrow. “You voluntarily would come to this ‘kill the rabbit’ town meeting in Briarwood on a Thursday night when you’d rather be watching the Legends?”

Batya shrugged. “Hockey can wait. I can sand down a pitchfork with the best of them. Not to mention, meetings or auditions in a high school auditorium sometimes need supporters.”

Of course she remembered that day all those years ago, when he and Leo went to support her. “I appreciate it, but I think this needs to be a solo event.”

“See that’s the thing,” she said. “Because I thought standing up in front of an entire audience and confronting ridiculous amounts of stage fright, in order to audition in an auditorium you thought you’d left for the last time ages before, was a solo event. But some people decided otherwise.”

“This is different,” he said. “I need to hear what’s wrong, and if I have people spinning noisemakers to drown out every speaker who finds fault with something done by the company I’m representing, I’ll be the villain in the story, not the brave knight who has come to save the day.”

Batya snickered, knowing him well enough to figure out he was trying not to become the villain of Briarwood’s holiday story. “Right. Nobody needs a sour-cream-flavored hamantaschen,” she said, choosing the right dessert metaphor to match the Purim metaphors he’d chosen.

“Not even me,” he said with a laugh. “But I appreciate it.”

“Good,” she said. “Keep me posted, and be careful.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not following?”

“It’s a bit of a minefield there,” Leo said, joining the conversation as usual. “You’re being watched like rooster coming into the henhouse. Just…whatever you do, as Batya said, be careful and make good choices, hm?”

“I’ll have coffee waiting tomorrow morning,” Batya said, “as long as you update me.”

Hints taken, he headed out, carrying some sour cream and soofganiyot stolen from the dessert box.

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