I looked again at her face to see if my knowledge of her secret had caused her any discomfort
“Look at all this space!” I announced, my arms extended, making invisible circles around me. “We need furniture!”
We were standing in our new, expansive apartment in Buffalo, New York, where we were to begin our new lives after having spent the first year and a bit of our marriage in a sweet but pokey little apartment in Crown Heights.
My husband — Shmuel Yosef — nodded, but in his eyes, I could detect rapid and intense calculations.
You see, we were raised to go out into the big, wide world of shlichus. But, as everyone knows, Chabad Houses often run on a shoestring budget. Buffalo was no exception. There was a school — where we were to serve as teachers — a shul, a community center, a mikveh, and that was it. There would be no extra money. Certainly, there would be no allowance for the prettification of our fresh, new living quarters.
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