#scarsdale

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The Uncle's house is lit, the upholstered car parked in the driveway. Sounds from inside the house.

Zara walks, basket over her slender arm. It isn't sunset yet. She slips up to the kitchen door - kitchen for family, front door for company - and lets herself in. "Hehe, Ratchet, I'm here..."

"....TOILET PAPER, IF YOU'RE SO SMAR... oh hello Zara." Ratchet stops in mid-shout to greet her.

"Aye. Gut Shabbos, Onkl." A peck on his cheek, and she sets about work - putting out the kugel and cookies, checking on the coffee...

".... SHOVE THE TOILET PAPER SO FAR UP YOUR...." Hirim storms into the kitchen and stops. "Zara, Bubalah." He kisses her.

"Hi Hehe." Another peck. "I brought a kugel. I'll go light the candles while you finish up dinner, nu?"

He nods with a sullen look at Ratchet.

"Won't this be nice? A dinner with just us?"

And off she floats, lighter in hand.

"Thank you, Bubalah." Ratchet says calmly, finishing up the meal. "Nice? Well, we'll see."

"Hmmph." Hirim responds.

And like a little grey ghost, Zara works her way around the living and dining rooms, lighting candles. "It sounds like Mama and Papa are enjoying the cruise so far."

"They'll be lucky not to drown." Hirim predicts dolefully.

"They are luckier there than here." Grim.

Ratchet is bringing dishes out to the table, and gives Zara a look. "They are?"

"I have news, and want to talk to you about it. But... dinner. Shabbos first. It's... things are complicated."

Hirim gives her a look too, now. "Complicated?"

She nods. "News, aye. Now - sit, sit. The sun is moving and you are being Moses."

Zara lights a small candle to bring to the table, where two tall tapers stand.

Both men exchange a look, telling, and finish up the little bits and pieces to sit, then stand in respect. Ratchet reaches over and adjusts Hirim's yarmulke.

Candles lit, Zara assumes what is normally Hannah's role - gathering the smoke with a gesture, then covering her eyes to whisper. "Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech Haolam Asher Kideshanu Bemitzvotav Vetzivanu Lehadlik Ner Shel Shabbat Kodesh..."

Both men bow their heads.

She keeps her eyes covered, silent prayers following the blessing.

Finally, then - "Good Shabbos, Uncles." Next, of course is the singing - a call on the angels, sung by all.

The Uncles sing quietly, matching (or trying to) their niece's volume.

Zara tries her best, though her broken throat tends to crack and fail at attempts to sing. The Sholom Aleichem is followed by another hymn, the Eishes Chayil, before it falls to Hirim or Ratchet to say the Kiddush.

Hirim does the honors.

The cup is passed, a sip for everyone, before going to the kitchen (in silence!) to wash hands. This might be the longest Hirim goes all week without saying anything. 🙂

It is, however, a period of silence he's used to. His hand washing might be the splashiest.

Zara smothers a giggle at the splashing before returning to her seat. She doesn't mind the silence. After handwashing, the bread is blessed - a hunk of challah torn, dipped in salt, and shared. Only then may the recipient speak again.

Hirim is first. Of course. "Zara, you ok at home? Need anything?"

She wavers her hand. "Me? No, no... plenty of food, and I have the car now."

"Oy." Mutters Hirim.

"But that's not the worry." She frowns, and pokes at her week-old brisket with her fork. "I got Papa to take Mama on a cruise, so they both would be away for a while."

"It was a nice idea." Ratchet says fondly. "You're a good daughter."

"I don't know. Maybe not so much?"

"On Beltaine, Mama... I came home, and Mama had hired a landscaper. Which, aye, better a landscaper than Papa putting out his back again. Or, well, that one time with the leaf blower...."

"That was NOT my fault!" Hirim glares at Ratchet, who bristles.

"YOU were the one said you wanted something more powerful! 'Oy, it takes forever, I should live so long as to finish the job....'" He mimics Hirim's voice.

"You made it so it could clear the gutters from the sidewalk!!!" Hirim interjects.

A little wave dismissing it. "Please?"

"I think, mayhaps, she did not do it for any of those reasons, though she said she did. I think Mama was... englamoured..."

"Bewitched."

"The one she hired, he is a satyr. Not of the Hollow, but a drifter." She frowns. "Mama invited him into the house."

Both men, ready to go hammer and tongs at each other, stop dead. "What?" simultaneously.

"Englamoured???"

"She invited him into the house. She hired him, and invited him in, and... stared... at him in a way that..." Zara shakes her head, frowning.

"Bewitched!??!!?"

"He has a treasure, this satyr."