Chapter 29 Summary: While packing Jake’s suitcase for Israel, Ari admits to Debbie that he’s jealous of Jake’s relationship with Shmuel. Ilana is horrified to discover that Moriah asked her parents to fund her organization, while Yaffa decides she wants to start one, too.

Planning a chesed organization should be a teaching moment, Yaffa decided. She’d already tried roping Shmuel into her deliberations (“If you could start any chesed organization, what would it be?”) but, to her annoyance, he’d just laughed.

Now, as she eyed Shani sitting by the dining-room table sorting her makeup, she realized what a wasted chinuch opportunity that would have been.

She sat down next to her and cleared her throat. “I need your advice.”

Shani eyed her warily. “Everything okay, Ma?”

“Sure.” She picked up a tube of lipstick and began to twirl it between her fingers. “I’ve been thinking how nice it would be to take on a family chesed project. And I’m wondering what to do. Do you have any good ideas?”

She tried to make her voice sound casual, but Shani, after staring at her for a moment, gave her a slow, knowing smile. “First Aunt Ilana and now you? Gosh, one little will has driven the entire family insane.”

Taken aback, Yaffa said stiffly, “Doing chesed is a good thing.”

“Of course, it is.” Shani smirked. “And spending money is fun. It’s even more fun to spend it on ourselves, but what can we do? Grandma and Grandpa decided otherwise.”

Yaffa blinked. Since when had her daughter become so cynical? Unlike…She looked across the hall into the living room, where Moriah was curled up on the couch with her phone.

Shani caught her glance. “Moriah told me that her mother was really upset that she went and spoke to Grandpa about her organization idea. Moriah was going on and on about it last night. Like, ‘I don’t get why we can’t just be open in our family. Just say what we mean, instead of pretending all the time.’”

“And what do you think?” Yaffa asked curiously.

Shani shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean, on the one hand, I get her. Like, now, we’re all pretending everything’s great, we’re so excited to be able to give millions to tzedaka, when it’s obvious that we wish Grandma and Grandpa would give us the money instead.”

Yaffa nodded slowly, as Shani continued. “But, at the same time… I mean, being honest and open isn’t always the best. Like, not when it means hurting someone’s feelings. I told that to Moriah. I dunno if she got it. Israelis are very into saying what they think, y’know?”

Yaffa laughed aloud. She had to resist the urge to pinch her daughter’s cheek—her daughter who was still, at the end of the day, a teenager, but was surprising her more and more with her flashes of maturity and intuitiveness.

“Yes, I know. And I think you’re right.” And then Yaffa leaned forward, placing her elbows on the table, and said, “So forgetting about Grandpa’s will and being totally open and honest about the fact that we’d all like to be rich… what do you think we should take on as a family chesed project?”

***

“Thanks, this is really nice of you,” Ari said as Debbie handed him and Eli a pile of labeled aluminum pans to bring to his parents.

“I’m still not sure why your mother can’t cook for Shabbat herself,” Debbie muttered. “If you ask me, I think she’s just gotten used to people taking care of her these past few weeks.”

Ari mumbled an inarticulate “Mm hmm.”

Eli flashed an impish grin. “Maybe we can be like Aunt Ilana and Aunt Yaffa and start our own tzedaka for old people who don’t want to cook.”

“What?” Debbie asked. “What do you mean, Aunt Yaffa?”

“Oh, Shani texted me that they want to start some organization to inspire teens about their Judaism. She wanted to know what kinds of things my friends and I feel we’re missing.” He smirked. “I guess we’re the ones they’re looking to help.”

Ari could practically hear Debbie’s blood boiling. Quickly, he said, “Eli, bring these trays out to the car for me. Thanks.”

As the screen door closed shut, Debbie burst out. “So now everyone’s jumped on the bandwagon? They’ve decided that they’re perfectly fine with your parents giving away their money? That’s it, we’ve come to peace with it, it’s all over?” She rolled her eyes. “Please. The resentment’s just going to build over time, and pretending otherwise is just fooling themselves.”

Ari fiddled with the car keys in his hands. As much as Debbie’s harsh tone grated, he had to admit that there was truth in what she was saying. Real truth. If things continued in this vein, smiling on the outside while letting everything fester within… He closed his eyes, picturing the whispered plots, his mother’s bewildered hurt, the bitterness and anger lacing every conversation of the past few weeks… And he knew Debbie was right. It might just destroy their family.

“I agree,” he said quietly. He gritted his teeth. “And I think it’s time to do something about it.”

***

“Oh, how nice!” Gail exclaimed, sorting the pans that Ari had just deposited on her counter. “Barbeque chicken, my favorite! And roasted vegetables, that’s perfect for Dad. Please thank Debbie for me.”

Ari nodded. His father was sitting at the table; Marie had just finished clearing his lunch dishes and had left the room. He took a breath. He didn’t want to do this; he really didn’t. But he knew it was the right thing.

Would Yaffa and Ilana kill him?

He sat down at the kitchen table opposite his father. “Dad? Mom? I want to talk to you about something.”

His father shot him a questioning look, while his mother, suddenly looking anxious, sat down beside his father.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quickly. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yes, everyone’s fine.” He drummed his fingers on the table for a second. Just spit it out. “I’m sure you’ve been wondering why we’ve been acting a bit strange recently?”

“Strange?” Gail asked, but Larry frowned, watching him closely.

“I want to explain. Mom, remember when you set up an appointment for me and Yaffa to meet with your accountant? To get a picture of your finances, so that we’d be able to take care of them if Dad weren’t able to?”

Larry glanced sharply at Gail. “You – didn’t – tell – me.”

Ari looked directly at his father. “Well, I’m sure you can understand that we were all shocked by how much money you have. We never imagined…”

There was silence in the room. Larry seemed to be struggling to get words out.

“I… not – good – for – you – to – know. Wrong – ideas.”

Ari wasn’t quite sure what his father meant by that. Wrong ideas? As in, don’t get any expectations that the money will go to you?

He tried to stay calm as he continued. “But that’s not all we found out. Mom had asked Yaffa to go through the financial papers and take care of your bills and stuff. While she was doing this, she came across a copy of your will.”

This time, he couldn’t look his father in the eye, but he heard the sharp intake of breath. Whether that meant he was angry or worried, Ari didn’t know. Because, as the memory of that discovery surfaced once again, the hurt he’d been trying to hide for so long suddenly boiled up inside.

These were his parents! His parents, who’d raised him, who’d given him his childhood, his life… and who, in these past number of years, when the tables were reversed, he’d done everything possible to care for.

Debbie was right; if it didn’t all come into the open now, the hurt and resentment would rot away at his entire relationship with his parents… and that was something that no amount of money was worth.

He looked up, and he felt his throat constrict as he whispered, “Didn’t you know how much it would hurt us?”

Ariella Aaron is an internationally published writer with a unique talent for writing stories that are entertaining and thought-provoking, with characters who are eminently relatable. A former resident of Northern New Jersey, Ariella has now transplanted her family to Israel, where she is happily living the dream of raising her brood in our homeland.