She hung up and sat on the couch, twisting her hands together, unable to gather her thoughts. There was a sudden knock on the door. “Who is it?”

No one answered. She looked through the keyhole, but there was no one there. She opened the door a crack, and there on the floor was an envelope. She widened the opening, stepping through and looking down the staircase. But it, too, was empty. Picking up the envelope, she hurried back inside, locking and bolting the door behind her.

The envelope was not addressed. She tore it open. It was a short note, primitively handwritten in all block letters as if by a first grader practicing the alphabet.

Shaindele Lehman is a Prutza. and her Stepmother is an American Whore. do Anyting to Harm the Santly Rav Grub, or Insult the Holy Bobelger Rebbe, and Police Can’t Help you. You have been Warned!

Her hand trembled. But before she had time to fully absorb what was happening, the phone rang. She listened, terrified to pick it up. But what if it was Yaakov? Or Shaindele? Or one of her clients? She couldn’t allow herself to be paralyzed by fear. She wasn’t going to give them that!

“Shalom?”

“Shalom to you!” To Leah’s enormous relief, it was a woman’s voice, and she sounded positively cheerful.

“Leah? Is that you? Leah Howard? Sorry.” She laughed. “I mean Leah Lehman! Sometimes I forget.”

“I’m so sorry, who is this?”

“Oh, it’s Gittel. Rav Weintraub’s secretary. You have a minute? The rav would like to speak with you. Can I put him through?”

Rav Weintraub, her mentor, the person who had allowed her to enter this community, who had vouched for her, invited her to attend shiurim, employed her, found her a place to live, got her customers for her new internet advertising business. The kindest, most devout man in the world. Oh no!

“Yes, of course,” she murmured barely audibly, her throat closing.

“My dear Leah, it’s been a long time!”

“Yes,” she answered, barely breathing. Please, God, not Rav Weintraub, too!

“So you’re probably wondering why I’m calling,” he said.

“Does it have anything to do with Rabbi Grub, or Rabbi Halpern, or the Bobelger? Because I want to explain.”

“Grub? Halpern? The Bobelger?” He seemed surprised. “Sounds very interesting, but no. Listen, I have a girl here, a baalas teshuva, who is also a computer whiz. I told her how successful you’ve been. I think she’s also from California. Maybe you could invite her for Shabbos, talk to her about your own journey?”

Leah felt the lump form in her throat as relief flooded through her wildly. She coughed, making it possible to speak. “Of course, I’d be happy to, Rav. Just send me her name and telephone number.”

“I’ll ask my secretary. Thank you, Leah-le! How are you, the new bride?”