I was a woman and I was single. What did that mean to my employers?
I closed the door behind me, then stood on my tippy toes to peek through the window at the top of the door. I caught sight of the taillight on the edge of my peripheral vision. He stayed till I got in, good. Tante Rochel will be happy. My mother would be happy, too, but she’s in Cleveland, while I’m living in Brooklyn, for “shidduchim.”
The light was on in the front room, which meant that Tante Rochel was still up, most likely in the kitchen, and Uncle Leib was probably snoozing in the recliner in the living room. I took off my heels and tiptoed past him.
As I expected, Tante Rochel was sitting at the table, nursing a tea and doing a crossword puzzle. She greeted me as I entered.
“Went well?” she asked, putting down her pencil.
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