Ezra looked up. “Why would Noam take your pearls?” A look of horror crossed over his face. “What? You think he’s a faygala?”

“No, no,” Breina said. “I was thinking that maybe Noam took them for money—” She stopped herself. “My emergency money!”

She moved toward the door, but Ezra held her back. It was still yom tov; he would not allow her to touch the money and violate the law for something as trivial as this. If Noam took the money, so be it. If he didn’t, the money would still be there when yom tov was over. Breina agreed not to count the bills but wanted to see whether they were there or not. At least, if the money was gone, she’d know that Noam instead of a burglar had taken her pearls. No burglar could have found her secret cache without turning the house upside down. To know that they weren’t robbed last night would be a small, comforting thought. Ezra hesitated, then told her she could look at the money, but she shouldn’t touch it at all. Breina stated she had no intention of touching it and dashed out of the room. A moment later, she returned.

“It’s gone.” She sank down into the bed. “Noam took it. He must have taken my jewelry, too. I can’t believe that even he would do such a thing.”

Ezra said, “Not that it matters, but how much did you have?”

“Two hundred and thirty-five dollars,” Breina said. “I’ve been putting away pennies for ten years to save up that much. How could he do that to me?”

Silence was her answer.

“I’m going to check on the girls,” Breina whispered. “Do you want some tea, Ez?”

“Nothing, thank you.”

Ezra felt his wife’s hand on his shoulder. He patted it gently. A moment later, he heard soft receding footsteps, then the bedroom door close.

Alone, Ezra thought of the four sons mentioned in the Passover story. The wise one, the simple one, the one who doesn’t even know how to ask a question. And the rasha, the wicked son.

No, that was terrible. How dare he think such a thing. Noam was not a rasha, just a confused boy, needing a little more guidance than the others. More attention.

At least that was what the rabbis at the school had told him. They had called Breina and him into conference one day, sat them down on two folding chairs, stared at them with grave eyes. The oldest—Rav Leider—was the only one who spoke. The others nodded in agreement with what he had said.

He’s a troubled boy. He can learn but doesn’t seem to want to. Furthermore, he’s distracting the other boys from learning. It is clear to us that he needs more attention.

Ezra could still feel Rav Leider’s eyes boring into him.