“Schools around here don’t make adjustments for the High Holidays.”

“Well, that’s just dumb. They’re listed right there on the calendar,” he says with the indignation of a person granted the privilege of belonging to a majority.

“You’ve never worried about this before—”

His expression grim, he cuts me off. “Maybe I never really thought about how important it was before. We should really make more of an effort, Jewelann. Maybe even start going to synagogue more often. Really become part of the community.”

“If that’s what you want,” I say carefully, taken aback by this sudden, almost frenzied, interest.

I’d spent years taking Eli to Hebrew school, attending the required services, making sure he got his tutoring from the rabbi. Yet I’d never truly felt like we belonged there. Not the way I had when I was a kid. I hadn’t let myself feel connected to the community, the same way I’d slowly isolated myself from friends over the years. I didn’t even see my brother and his family as often as we should, considering they lived only an hour away, and that, too, was my doing. Invitations not extended, invitations not accepted, until finally, my sister-in-law had stopped sending them. We spoke a few times a year but rarely got together. No wonder my kid’s a social mess. Look at the example I’ve made for him.

Ken’s body is tense and stiff when I take hold of his biceps. I search his face. “I never thought it was important to you, that’s all.”

“It’s important to me to have something solid. You couldn’t understand. You have your brother. I don’t have anyone. I don’t even have any family photos. Everything was lost in that fire, Jewelann. You have no idea what it’s like to lose everything.”

I don’t want to ever find out.

“You have someone, Ken. You have me. You have Eli,” I tell him.

He shrugs out of my grasp and stalks to the sliding glass doors to stare out. His hands rest on his hips, that same familiar stance. “You have friends in this town. People you’ve known for years and years. I don’t have anyone like that. I envy you, Jewelann. I really do.”

This is news to me, since he’s always been more than a little condescending about the fact he’s lived all over the country, but I’ve never moved away from home.

“Why don’t you invite your buddy over for the holiday?” Ken asks suddenly.

I’m confused. “Lisa?”

“No. Christian.”

“He’s not my friend,” I say after a second.

Ken’s lips pull back from his teeth. Not a grin, more like a grimace. “He said you two had been tight back in school. Lab partners.”

“Oh. Yeah, well. That was a long time ago, hon.” I force out a chuckle even as my cheeks burn.

“I wouldn’t have rented the place to him if I didn’t think you’d vouch for him, Jewelann. It was my impression that you’d been good friends. Am I missing something?” Ken’s voice is gravelly. Concerned. There’s some other tone, too, underneath the rest, but is it curious or sly or confrontational? I can’t tell. I could be imagining it.