Today she was Chaya Davidowitz, a conflicted being, tortured by her own insecurities
She didn’t have an appointment. And she wasn’t wearing her fur jacket. Possibly because it wasn’t so cold that day, but…
She’d come alone. Without her kallah daughter, without her sister.
“Do you have an appointment?” I asked.
Chaya Davidowitz shook her head. “I just wanted to discuss my Dassi’s gown. If that’s okay with you? I could wait, if you’re busy.”
I turned to Yocheved. Her face was stony, her skin pale beneath her makeup. “Should I handle the Fulops?” I asked quietly.
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