"Look, about DefenseFest. . ."
"Yes?" Thomas had a wary note in his voice.
Hershie's mother reappeared with a plate laden with brisket, tsimmis, and kasha.
She set it down in front of him.
"We'll talk later, OK?" Hershie said.
"But what about DefenseFest?"
"It's complicated," Hershie began. His mother scooped up the plate of brisket and headed back to the kitchen. She was muttering furiously. "I have to go," he said and closed his comm.
Hershie chased his mother and snatched the plate from her as she held it dramatically over the sink disposal. He held up his comm with the other hand and made a show of powering it down.
"It's off, Mama. Please, come and eat."
#
"I've been thinking of selling the house," she said, as they tucked into slices of lemon pound-cake.