He was silent, his lips stretched thin, his fists turning his knuckles white as he heard the reply. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Rav Halpern. But in that case, let me remind you of what happened to the Eshet Chayil school in Brooklyn, and the principal, Rav Yankel Hochman, and his assistant, Mrs. Surah Schneider. They threw out a girl and the parents sued ‘for negligence, defamation, intentional infliction of emotional distress, engaging in behavior with malice and intent to harm and breach of contract,’” he read from the internet article he had printed out. “And the parents could have won if they hadn’t decided to settle with the school. How many thousands of dollars in damages? You can just guess.” He waited. “No, I’m not saying we want to be moissar you to the secular courts, but you know the rabbonim permit this under certain circumstances. So if you don’t act toward my daughter and my family like a frum Yid, what choice do you leave me?” He listened, his lips loosening, his fists uncurling. “I appreciate that. I’m sure in a few days, this will all be taken care of. Yes, thank you. So we’re agreed to do nothing in the meantime? Okay, thank you. Shalom.”

His relief was brief, because even as he put down the phone, his boss was standing at the door looking at him with an expression that no employee ever wants to see.

“Can you come into my office for a minute, Jacob?” his boss said curtly.

Trembling, Yaakov followed him.

“Please, sit down.”

Yaakov sat.

“You’ve been with us how long now, Jacob?”

“Eight months,” he said, wiping his suddenly parched lips with a nervous tongue.

“And would you say you are happy here?”

“Yes, very happy. And I hope you have found no reason not to be satisfied with my work.”

“Well, we have actually had no complaints until now.”

A sudden ache went through his stomach, and his heart began to pound. “I’m sorry to hear that. Can you tell me which client complained?”

“The Weiss Shoe Company.”

Yaakov exhaled. “But I don’t work on their business. They aren’t with me.”

“No, but they have been with this company for many years and are a treasured client that brings in a great deal of business for us. And they’re not alone. Glick’s Diamond Factory. Shaindlin Fabrics…”

“None of them are my clients. I have never been assigned any work for any of them,” he protested.

His boss seemed confused, shuffling some papers on his desk. “Really?”

Yaakov nodded, and then it dawned on him. “Can you tell me, please, if these companies happen to be run by Hasidim?”

“Actually, I think they are.”

“Bobelger Hasidim?”

“Well, I’m not the one to ask. They all look the same to me … Sorry, didn’t mean to offend.”