Case in Point 

Many theories circulated, none of which were complimentary to Tzip. The girl had dingy black hair that hung around her waxy face. Her posture was dismal, her attitude was worse, and her clothing could charitably be described as “weird.” She had potential, the local women agreed, shaking their heads over the local dry cleaner’s wayward child. Her older sisters had been good-looking, classically beautiful, and then there was Tzip, looking like she’d snuck onto the planet illegally. She rarely made eye contact, and when she did, they wished she hadn’t: It was like getting your soul X-rayed by a malevolent technician.

There was something wrong about that girl.

And there was nothing wrong with the rav’s son! Asher Eitan Stern was a young man who did everything by the book, going from one right school to the next, never causing a ripple except for the time when he made a siyum haShas on his own schedule. The Golden Son of Audley was destined for greatness. He couldn’t marry just anyone; he’d have to marry someone special. One of the town’s normal daughters, for example.

The women of Audley waited to hear of a gently broken-off agreement, a kind and neutral statement from the rav that blamed no one and absolved all parties. They followed the news in an exhilarated, insatiable mass, like college football fans (except that they were interesting and intelligent), waiting for things to normalize, as things do.

Instead, things got weirder.

Rebbetzin Stern took Tzip to get a wig, and what a wig! Oh, the women of Audley wouldn’t speak lashon hara, no, but they could confirm that no one in the Stern household had possessed such a wig before or since, not them, no sir.  And when Mrs. Chaya Liba Blumenthal saw them buying this wig — with her own eyes she saw this, as she stood on the sidewalk and peered into the sheitel store, saw it without a shadow of a doubt! — did Rebbetzin Stern blush? Did she look down? No, she did not! The First Lady of Audley wrapped an arm around Tzip and drew her close, beaming back at Mrs. Blumenthal like she was ushering the daughter of a rebbe or a millionaire!