“It’s your job, to make her smile, to bring her happiness, and a girl like this, she can use it. You’ll know what you have to do. It’s not as easy as you think, but it’s also not so hard.”

Chavie was sitting with the calendar again, her reading glasses on.

“Shaya?” she said, and he stopped in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Yes,” he answered, trying not to sound impatient, which he was. This was the fourth conversation about the same topic, and he didn’t doubt there would be a few more rounds.

“I feel like Sunday is a crazy day, and Tuesday is Erev Yom Tov, so it can only be Monday, right? I hope it works for everyone. Penina isn’t sure, and Dovi said it depends on his in-laws’ schedule, and Bassi is due, Chaya Bracha has her whole story, and Ushy can never give answers.”

He nodded, trying to appear understanding. He really was understanding, generally, of how much this trip meant to her.

His friends told him their wives were already getting tired of making Yom Tov, the mess and the noise were too much for them, but Chavie wasn’t like that. She didn’t mind that there would be no hot water for showers and the playroom would get wrecked.

Half the people on their Flatbush block had already sold and moved to Lakewood, but Chavie was unwilling to give up the house that had housed so many Yamim Tovim.

She loved every part of Yom Tov, but the eineklach trip was her highlight, the one day of Chol Hamoed when Shaya made sure to have no work responsibilities, and everyone joined, a convoy of cars heading to whatever amusement center, aquarium, ropes course, or zoo they’d agreed upon.

Chavie would be in her element, insisting on pictures, introducing the entire family to any vague acquaintance she met, running from one attraction to the next even before everyone was done.

It was a big hassle, but he understood. Chavie had grown up in a painfully quiet house, just her, a widowed mother, and two very serious brothers, and if she wanted laughter or action, she had to go to a friend’s house.

After Yom Tov, she’d send pictures of the trip to her sisters-in-law, with commentary under each one — Dovi’s Mendy looks like Mommy, no? Can you believe Blumi is going to seminary, and Remember the snowstorm at this one’s bris — and check her phone obsessively until they responded, usually with a tepid “so cute,” or “delicious, thanks for sharing.”

He went along with the trips, happy that Chavie was happy, though he would have much preferred sitting around a table at home with all of them, rather than making this big show, a public display of “Look at us, look at the Wolberg clan, and all of our nachas.” Whatever. Best to let go and not make an issue out of it. That was always his policy.