“When I went to people for Shabbos, they showed me something completely different from my mom’s version”
“This isn’t going to work,” Tamar said, frowning, as she studied herself in the mirror.
Marissa looked at her daughter’s reflection, which always reminded her so much of Yaakov: dark, deep-set eyes, lanky build, strong chin bespeaking strong opinions. The dress she was wearing looked nice enough to Marissa — a dark print with some interesting detail on the sleeves.
“It fits fine, doesn’t it?” she asked. “Why won’t it work?”
Tamar shrugged. “It just doesn’t,” she said shortly. “I know.”
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