“I think we should call the police,” Mr. Laufer says, and Baila’s heart sinks with heavy, unsurprised disappointment. What accusations will they level against Mikki?
Well, Mikki will dispute the rabid portion of that, but that comes later.
They are walking back from shul together. Fenwood’s shul is large and elegant, nothing like the crowded little converted houses and the squat one-room buildings back in Rayon. The women here are old enough to be Baila’s mothers, and they all attend shul in light-colored dresses and matching hats. It’s their weekly social event in a town where houses and people are equally distant, and it’s the one way that Baila might make friends in Fenwood.
Instead, she arrives late and leaves before the kiddush, Mikki trailing behind her and Dovid hastening to meet them in front. They’re in Fenwood to avoid getting to know people, and they’ve made it four months without incident. No one here is unfriendly, exactly. If Baila speaks to a neighbor, she doesn’t doubt she’ll get a polite response. But the lack of community here is what had made Fenwood so appealing in the first place.
No one here asks questions. No one here watches Mikki the way all of Rayon had. No one but Baila herself, gripped with uncertainty each time she catches sight of her 17-year-old daughter.
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