At a professional conference for speech therapists, Aviva and Suri discuss their dream of opening a therapy clinic. Aviva finds a donor willing to invest the funds — on the condition that they bring his occupational therapist daughter-in-law into the partnership.

One hundred people. 

Aviva glanced at the mirror as she put on her sheitel. 

One hundred people times five dollars equals enough money to finally send in that order for more therapy games. 

She dabbed on some lipstick. 

Or — if Suri is in a really good mood — to buy those animal-shaped chairs she’d found that would be the perfect accent to their waiting room/ play area. 

Of course, Suri would tell her they should use the money to pay the electric bill. 

Five hundred dollars. That was assuming they got 100 women to their event tonight, and that all of them paid. Suri, being Suri, had estimated closer to 50, and had also wanted to charge more per person. But it was Yael Jeren who’d insisted the merely symbolic fee would draw more people, and also send the message that they service the whole community, rich or poor. 

For once, Aviva had to agree with Yael’s assessment. But… $500? For all this effort? 

She sighed as she clasped on her necklace. Unreal how much money went into running a business. She glanced once more at her reflection. The emerald-colored stones, trendy but not clunky, went perfectly with her silk shirt. She gave a nod at herself, standing straight and confident, everything in place. Perfect. 

Then she froze. 

I forgot to do something. 

She mentally raced through everything on her checklist. She — they — had been planning this lecture for weeks. Though their clinic had officially been in operation for almost a year, getting the word out to the community took time and patience, and the small initial trickle of clients — mostly friends and family — was finally, finally, starting to pick up. And now, at last, their spanking new premises, thanks to Zalman Jeren, were ready. 

It was time to introduce themselves to the wider community. 

They’d already done the official opening ceremony, honoring Mr. Jeren and plastering the local paper with photos of him and the mayor cutting the ribbon. But this was something else: it was reaching out on a personal level, positioning themselves as the neighborhood experts parents could turn to for advice. The idea for this informational evening for mothers — “How to Foster Your Child’s Development” — was Aviva’s, and she had masterminded the event. For weeks she’d thought of little else. So what had she forgotten? 

It was only as she stood by her front door that she realized her omission.