Instead, she worked on what she considered a far more problematic issue: yichud. So far, Rav Alter’s daughter had always been there and hadn’t thought it odd that she’d been coming by a few times a week to drop off food. Why would she? Many women were doing the same, of all ages and marital statuses. But having the daughter in the way had become an impediment, she realized. Like the pillar of fire in the desert that protected the fleeing Hebrew slaves from their pursuing Egyptian slave masters, the young woman hovered protectively between the do-gooders and her father, never letting anyone get near enough for a private word. But the daughter had her own family to care for. Someone had dropped the golden nugget of information into Fruma Esther’s lap that today, the daughter would be home nursing a sick husband. Nebbech.

How this information got to her was as circuitous as it was reliable and unique. She had spies everywhere: the woman who prepared food for the kollel students where the son-in-law learned. The grocery lady where he picked up supplies for the family on his way home. Even the dry cleaners who saw to it his black suits were immaculate and his white prayer shawl as white as snow. Reports had come in from all over. So today was her opportunity.

Her usual time to come was the morning, just as Rav Alter was coming home from his morning prayers. But everyone was in such a rush that time of day, especially Rav Alter, who hurried through breakfast to get back to yeshiva where a horde of yentas and needy yeshiva schlimazels awaited him, lined up outside his office door to bother him over the trivial details of their lives because they couldn’t fend for themselves for two seconds! So coming in the morning was a waste of time. What she needed was to find a time when he was alone and in no rush. How else to get his attention and show him she wasn’t like the others?

Then the thought struck her with such simplicity that she couldn’t imagine that she’d missed it. Early evening, right after he came back from evening prayers, but before he started his evening shiur. Even if his daughter stole a few minutes to look in on him, she’d be long gone by then, at home taking care of her own troubles.