“We’re hardly the example of Yiddishkeit you want to show off,” Yaakov argued

“Everything ready for the seudah?” Yaakov was drumming his fingers on the counter, staring out the kitchen window at the gloomy sky.
“Just about,” Marissa said, emptying a container of roasted sweet potatoes over the salad bowl. “Tamar’s mixing up some more of her fantastic salad dressing and Elisheva will put out the dips, and then I think we’re done.”
Yaakov always got a bit nervous before hosting guys from the yeshivah. Marissa wasn’t sure why, but she recognized the pattern. Back when Rabbi Eisen had sent them their very first guests, just a few months after their wedding, Yaakov had pushed back. “Are you sure we’re ready to host?”
Rabbi Eisen smiled. “You have a table, you have food, you’re two intelligent and friendly people with lots of life experience. Why wouldn’t you be ready?”
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