Miri answered as succinctly as possible. She was here to uncover a fraudster, not examine her innermost self

Miri Tefler was a busy woman. The newlywed on the other end of the line was having trouble understanding that.

“No availability until August? Are you sure? Can you check again?” the girl whined.

Classically entitled, Miri thought. Probably the type that wipes down the counters in the morning, then takes a nap for four hours until her husband comes home for lunch. The girl doesn’t need therapy – she needs a job.

Miri shifted the phone to her shoulder and scrolled through her calendar again.

“I really don’t have any openings, I’m so sor—”

“But you’re the best! And I’m like falling apart over here. This legit isn’t working.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and said, “Honestly, I think I made a huge mistake.”

“Look,” Miri sighed, “I can give you some numbers of excellent therapists, colleagues of mine that I trust complete—”

“But my kallah teacher, Rebbetzin Kiffelbraun, told me I have to see you!” There was a pause, and then one little sob escaped through the line.

Miri moved the phone away from her ear, then put on her reading glasses and scrolled back up to April.

“Okay, Leah, was it?”

A muffled mhmm.

“I can squeeze you in on April 6th at 1:30,” she enunciated clearly. “Okay?”

“Ohmigosh, thank you so much. You just saved my life.”

Well, not yet, Miri thought.

When she hung up she realized she’d squeezed clients in during her lunch break the entire week. She rubbed her temples. Superheroes don’t need lunch, right? Especially when there are marriages to save. It was really the Kiffelbraun factor — Mrs. K sent her a steady flow of newlyweds who only required some basic guidance and then recommended her for years to come. She didn’t want to lose that by turning people away. Miri took off her reading glasses; her next client was here.

Baily had barely taken off her Louis Vuitton wristlet before launching into a comprehensive analysis of why Nosson forgetting to take out the garbage was indicative of a much larger issue, possibly stemming from the fact that he was delivered by c-section, which she’d heard could cause terrible trauma later in life…

When there was a pause, Miri held up her hand and looked Baily in the eyes.

“Baily,” she said slowly. “Do you remember the moment you decided that Nosson was the one for you? Do you remember what sparked that decision?”

Baily suddenly looked nervous. “I don’t really know,” she said, a little too quickly.

Miri sat quietly, waiting for more. Baily shifted on the couch.

“I mean, I liked Nosson. I thought there was potential, but I was back and forth and finally my best friend Chanchy told me I had to see Es-Tee…”

“Esti?”

Baily’s eyes widened. “Yeah, Es-Tee. She’s uh… like… this girl. Not a dating coach.”

Miri was intrigued. “Not a dating coach? As in, not licensed?” Alarm bells started clanging. If there was one thing Miri couldn’t stand it was unlicensed coaches. Fraudsters!

“Nooooo, like hashtag #NotADatingCoach – you must have seen her on Insta! She’s everywhere. She’s like basically a genius. She works with visualization.”