Chapter 17 Summary: At a library event, Ilana meets a young woman dealing with fertility issues and offers her support. In a talk with Danny, she realizes that what she really wants to do is start an organization to help women with infertility, and resolves to ask her parents for funding.

Yaffa pushed the curtain back from the den window. Seeing her mother reading on the backyard deck, she squared her shoulders and headed outside. Mom had brushed off all her attempts until now to talk seriously about an aide, but Yaffa was determined to have the conversation. Dad only had another week in the rehab center—max two, if they succeeded in pressing the center enough. School was starting soon, she and the kids wouldn’t be available, and they needed to have a plan in place.

She sat down on a lounge chair next to her mother. “Good book?” she asked.

Gail looked up. “Not bad. I liked her last one better.”

Yaffa nodded perfunctorily. She wasn’t really interested in getting into a conversation about the romance novels her mother loved to read. She leaned forward. “Listen, we need to talk. I’ve done a lot of research into aides, and I want to discuss it with you.”

Gail sighed and glanced down at her book. “Does it need to be now?”

Yaffa suppressed a scream. “What’s wrong with now?”

Gail shrugged. “I’m enjoying my book. And this beautiful weather.”

Yaffa wished one of her siblings were here so she’d have someone with whom to share her exasperation. Gritting her teeth, she said, “Lovely. But every time I bring up the topic, you’re always busy, and—”

Her phone buzzed on her lap. She looked down: Ilana. Good; maybe the two of them together could do a better job convincing their mother to face reality.

“Hey Ilana,” she said. “Perfect timing; I was just speaking to Mom about the aide. As I was about to tell her—“ A swift glance at her mother showed that her ear was tilted in Yaffa’s direction—“I’ve done a lot of research into aides and a few options have come up. The one I’m personally leaning to is a woman from Senegal who spent the past five years with the mother of a lady in my shul. Unfortunately, her mother just passed away, and Marie’s available now. My friend swears by her, she was going on and on—”

Yaffa was pleased to see that her mother was finally listening. But from across the ocean, her sister cleared her throat loudly. “Nice, Yaff, sounds great. Listen, I don’t have so much time right now; the kids are about to come for the story hour. I wanted to ask your advice about something.”

“Oh! Sure!” It wasn’t often Ilana called her for advice.

“Um… if you’re sitting next to Mom right now, can you please go somewhere else?”

As Yaffa stood up and walked back in her house, she suddenly knew what Ilana was about to say.

“’Kay, the coast is clear,” she said, back in the den. “Can I take a lucky guess what this is about?”

Ilana gave an uncomfortable laugh. “First of all, thanks for hosting Moriah in your house. She’s having a great time with your girls.”

Yaffa had been pleased when she’d thought of the idea to send Moriah back home with Shani. It had been getting quite uncomfortable having her niece skulking around the house with nothing to do; besides, despite her earlier misgivings about exposing her children to their more modern cousins, the more she’d gotten to know Moriah, the more she was convinced that her kids had a lot to learn from her.

“My pleasure. The poor girl deserved to have some fun on her vacation, too.”

After a short pause, Ilana said, “I was talking to Danny last night, and I had this major brainstorm. I want to start an organization to help women deal with the emotional aspect of infertility. Totally grassroots, women helping women, that type of thing. I think there’s a real need.”

Yaffa’s voice softened. She knew how close this pain was to Ilana’s heart. “Sounds like a beautiful idea; I think you should go for it. Though I have no idea how you’ll have the time. Unless you make this part of your doctoral study? The anthropology of chesed organizations, has anyone ever researched that?”

“Very funny. No, I’m actually considering—” There was another pause, and then Ilana continued, “Never mind, my point is, I’d need funding to get this organization off the ground. And I was thinking about asking Mom and Dad. But I wasn’t sure how to go about it.”

Yaffa’s lips curled. “Hah! Ten points for me.”

“Huh?”

“My lucky guess. I knew you were calling about asking our parents for money.”

Ilana’s voice hardened defensively. “I don’t know what you mean by that. It’s not like I’m in the habit of asking for money.”

Yaffa laughed. “My dear, none of us are in the habit of asking for money. And suddenly, all of us are desperately trying to figure out how to do it. I’ll admit that I am. And, though he’d never say it, I’m positive Ari is as well. So, get in line.”

Ilana exhaled loudly. “Are we all such wimps?”

All except for Shani. But Yaffa didn’t think it was wise to share that; bad enough that Ari and Debbie were witness to her daughter’s unabashed salesmanship.

Yaffa peeled back the curtain a sliver and looked out at their innocent mother, engrossed once more in her novel.

“Yup. I’m afraid we are.”

***

Debbie was pacing up and down the living room, her hand clenched and her eyes steely. “If only there was a way to get your mother alone,” she said. “But Yaffa’s always there.”

Ari raked his hand through his hair. He didn’t quite appreciate this battle strategy conference, but he knew he owed it to Debbie to play along, after he was the one who’d lost their savings.

“My mother’s not the one you want, anyway,” he said. “She’d never make any financial decisions without Dad.”

“I supposed you’re right. But he’s not in a state right now to really think about this. Besides, we can’t exactly sit down with him in the lobby of the rehab place and ask him for 300,000 dollars.”

“Right.” They’d been through this before.

Debbie stopped her pacing to glare. “Even though Yaffa’s daughter had no problem doing it.”

Ari sighed. They’d been through that before, too.

Debbie resumed her stride. Suddenly, she burst out, “If only we knew!”

Ari blinked. “Knew what?”

“Knew what their long-term plans were. Like, how they eventually plan to distribute the money.”

Ari cocked his head to the side. “Are you talking about their will?”

Debbie’s face reddened. “No… um, well, maybe. I mean, it doesn’t have to be after they die or anything, but if we knew they planned on giving us, I don’t know, 3 million?” Her eyes gleamed. “5 million? Whatever, if we knew what they were planning, maybe we could, like, ask for an advance when necessary? After all, it doesn’t really make sense to wait until after they’re gone to give away their money, when it’s at this point in our lives that we all need it most.”

“True,” Ari said slowly. He still wasn’t sure where Debbie was going with this. “So what, exactly, are you suggesting? Asking them for a copy of their will?”

Debbie stopped next to the bookshelf, her back turned towards him. “That would be awkward,” she mumbled. “But what if one of us were to go through their financial statements—you know, to make some order of it—and come across the will?”

She turned around to face him. “Would it be so bad to take a peek?”

By Ariella Aaron