The car service his sister recommended was reliable, and he’d managed to get to his meeting quickly and on time. The building was not far from Thomas Circle; a sleek glass and stone building on fourteenth street, that also housed a scientific lobby.

He braced himself for recognition; thankfully, the doorman kept his expression blank as he accepted the proffered driver’s license.

“Ninth floor, Mr. Moskowitz. They’re waiting for you.”

He nodded, even as he signed his decoy signature-his middle name and his mother’s maiden name, before heading into the open elevator. As he stepped in, the doors closed behind him and the elevator began its ascent.

In the silence of the elevator, Sam wondered what he’d be walking into. What kind of people would he be meeting with? What would they have to say? Would he be able to work with them?

Suddenly, the elevator shuddered to a stop and the doors wooshed open, forcing his thoughts to quiet. He took a breath and made the turn, following the directions sent to him via email. He walked down the hall, past the large, clear glass entrance and stood in front of the small rear door. A blind hung over the glass window from the inside, and a white button stood clear against the black plastic speaker. He pressed the button, the buzzer flicked on and the door in front of him clicked open.

“Come in, come in.”

As he opened the door, he caught a strong whiff of coffee and ink, the smell of offices everywhere. All the outlets he could see were full, the open counter spaces contained computers of various sorts, cameras, and lights, and there was tons of other equipment he recognized from various movie sets. There was a conference table in the middle of it all, mismatched chairs filled with three people. The office felt professional and yet…it felt comfortable.

“Welcome,” one of the people said suddenly. He stood up, revealing a t-shirt with a fun slogan. “Thank you for coming.”

He put his hands in his pockets and smiled back at the group. “Thank you for having me.”

“I’m really glad you liked my movie,” said another, the woman who had to be Lisa, the director. Her dark curly hair was streaked with grey, and her eyes were bright. “I mean…it’s…”

“Whoa,” said another woman. He didn’t miss the way her hand took Lisa’s in her own, nor did he miss the matching rings that clinked as their fingers touched. “My name is Elizabeth Silver - I’m the producer. Nice to meet you…Sam?”

He nodded. “Yes, Elizabeth,” he said, putting out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, and you too, Lisa. “

Elizabeth shook his hand and smiled back at him. “Call me Liz,” she said. “Welcome to the production company’s base of operations. This is where we do some of our best work. I’m glad your schedule was free enough for you to come.”

“I can’t believe you came here because of my movie,” Lisa interrupted.

“And I can’t believe you haven’t offered him a chair.” The dude with the salty shirt laughed and gestured towards an open seat at the table. “Sit down, here.” He turned to Lisa, “Then you can ask him about the movie and we can talk about things.”

“You also didn’t introduce yourself,” Elizabeth said as Sam sat down. “I’ll do it for you. That’s Marcus Goldblatt. He’s a finance guy, he does…”

“He does what needs to be done,” Lisa interjected. “Now. How did you see the movie?”

Sam smiled, glad to be a part of this small group. “I subscribe to the BlueChorus. When my schedule allows, I check the list, I follow what’s going on and I donate when I can. It’s important for me to do my part.”

Marcus smiled as Elizabeth and Lisa continued to talk. “I just can’t believe you’re a subscriber to the Chorus. They’re…”

Sam shrugged. “They do good work. Anyway, there was an email from the list all about the film, and I was home on a weeknight, got the email and I had time to watch. It was amazing. I figured that I’d see if you guys were open to my help, whatever I could do.”

“And,” Liz tapped a pen on the table. “You didn’t hear about it before the list?”

“No, actually.” He tried to remember back to when the email said the film had premiered. “I think I was on set when it premiered, so I didn’t really see or hear much of anything because I only really talk to family when I’m on set. It’s easier that way. However, that also means no email. So I was radio silent until last night when I was lying on my couch in New York.”

There was a whispered discussion he could not follow; he suspected it had something to do with the advertising campaign.

“Very good to know,” Liz said. “We’re not getting the traction we need, obviously. We had some initial interest, but our main backer had to back out suddenly, so we’ve been scrambling. What are you looking to do and how long do you have?”

“I’ll go back to New York a bit for American Sukkot…Thanksgiving. Then I’ll be back and forth until Chanukah. I’m pretty open otherwise.”

That was when the room got silent again. Sam felt the nerves rise in his stomach, and braced himself for whatever he was about to be asked.

“And,” Elizabeth added. “What do you think you can do for us?”

That was an easy answer. He shrugged. “Whatever you think can help.”

“What do you mean?”

They wanted details and he could give those. “It all depends on what you’re looking for, really. I can narrate, I can invest, and I can ensure contacts of mine see it. Basically, I can do whatever you think will help the movie the most.”

Liz and Lisa turned to each other and smiled, making Sam feel at home. On the other hand, the look on Marcus’s face made him feel like he was standing in front of Mount Rushmore. Marcus was impassive, doubtful. Which was understandable coming from the finance guy. But there was something underlying the doubt, some other feeling he couldn’t identify.

“You aren’t worried you’re going to hurt your career?” Marcus asked, finally. “Difficult times, you know. Politics and Hollywood aren’t friends these days, and a lot of people are staying on the sidelines. Which is fine, just not for someone who works with us.”

Sam huffed out a breath and sat back in his chair, searching for some kind of composure. “What you need to understand,” he began once he found some, as well as his customary soapbox, “is that my career, my life, my brand as they say, is political. I’m famous for standing up to anti-Semitism on screen. What kind of a person, what kind of a Jew, would I be if I didn’t stand up to the politics that created an atmosphere that fosters prejudice in general and anti-Semitism in particular? What kind of a Jew would I be if I didn’t use the platform I was given to highlight people and places that are fighting, too? I have privilege and a platform, and I’m going to use it to help those who are hurt daily by the nonsense President Crosby and his administration are pushing.”

“Then all I can say,” Liz said, beaming as Lisa wiped tears from her eyes with a tissue, “is welcome to the team.”

5:30 pm

Deb sat down on the lowest step of the temple entrance as the car carrying the last kid left the parking lot. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as the wind kissed her cheeks and blew her hair around. She shoved her hands in her pockets, fighting the onslaught of winter into her thirty seconds of calm as best she could.

She felt the chill on her lips as she reached thirty and headed inside to clean the day’s chaos. As she headed into the classroom, she hung up her coat and noted what had gone awry. Then she got to work, putting the toys back where they belonged and pushing chairs into their assigned spots.

Thoughts of her sister were what kept her going. The real reason why she was going to a wine and cheese reception she didn’t want to attend. That and maybe to eat some of the winebar’s famous fig and feta appetizers. Suddenly overwhelmed, she paused for a moment and checked to see if she had an email from her anonymous SchoolFund donor.

Those notes had been a collection of light when she thought she’d failed. When her best friend had to go into hiding a few months before, she lost both her best friend and her benefactor in one fell swoop. The belief that her kids wouldn’t have to suffer had sent her onto SchoolFund in the first place.

She’d been terrified, afraid nobody would notice what she was doing amidst the big, brilliant projects that benefitted so many others. Then the first email came. It wasn’t long, wasn’t wordy, but it said exactly what she needed to hear.

‘I’m sending you this email because what you’re doing gives me hope on a dark day. Keep doing what you’re doing and know that I support you’. It was signed E.C.; two initials, needle in a haystack impossible to find.

Somehow, her donor knew just how to find her, and where. Boosting her when she was lost, making her smile when she couldn’t. The emails weren’t deep or intimate, but made her feel like what she was doing had an impact. And these days, that was the most important thing.

You’re teaching the next generation of leaders, the ones who will make sure our strides to fix the damage won’t be for nothing.

That was the last message she’d gotten, over a month before. That was, until this morning.

You inspire me to be the change I wish to see. I’m stepping into something and I have no idea how it’s going to work. Nevertheless, I have to try. Because who would I be, what kind of person would I be, if I didn’t make the effort?

She wondered what her benefactor was trying to do. More importantly, she wondered whether he needed someone to inspire him the way he inspired her.

Deb finally left the temple and walked the short distance to the party venue. It was still cold, but this time she was ready. She also needed the exercise, the solitude and the thinking time that went with it.

As she turned the corner and opened the door, the blast of heat from inside the bar hit her hard. She went in quickly, closing the door behind her. She could hear her sister from the entranceway, the loud, boisterous gathering filling the store as if it was the only group there.

Which it was.

Instead of focusing on the party that had probably been going on for more than an hour before the scheduled starting time, Deb put her coat on the pile and made her way towards the table of food. Thankfully, there were at least two plates full of figs stuffed with feta, and an empty spot right in front of them.

As she reached for the first fig, she closed her eyes and inhaled. It smelled good; the spicy deep scent made her drool.

“Hi.”

She almost dropped the fig. Thankfully, the feta cheese stayed in the fig and did not make a mess on her shirt or her sweater. “Hi,” she managed as she reached for a napkin. “Sorry…I…”

Then she saw who was speaking to. He was…gorgeous. Sparkling hazel eyes, short brown hair that showed just a bit of a curl. He looked comfortable in a button down and pants that fit him well. He was breathtaking.

“It’s fine.” He smiled. “If I say it happens all the time, would that make it better or worse?”

She laughed; his expression was earnest, his eyes were wide. “Better…slightly.” She paused. “You didn’t offer to help clean it up, so it’s much better.”

He laughed. “I’m...no.” He shook his head. “You…you’re…”

She put the napkin down, and smiled. “Hi. I’m Deborah.”

“I’m Sam,” he replied holding out his hand.

The smile was devastating. He was sweet and strong and self- deprecating and confident all at the same time. Like the rest of her, her hand was drawn to him. As he clasped his fingers in hers, she felt the warmth of his grasp all the way to her toes.

When he let her fingers go she shoved one hand in a pocket as she grabbed a fig with the other.

“How are you connected to the movie?”

She’d thought the conversation was over, but she turned back towards him, took her hand out of her pocket and gestured towards the center of the bar. “My sister. Lisa. She directed the movie. I’m proud of her.”

“She did an amazing job,” he replied. “That’s why I’m here in DC for a bit. Well, that and looking after my cousin’s hockey project…and his apartment.”

Was the world this small? She had to ask. “Wait…what project?”

“Hockey for Hope?”

Of course. His cousin had to be the other co-founder. The one who was not her best friend’s boyfriend. But he didn’t need to know that. Not yet. “It sounds familiar. “I’ve wanted to go to a game but have never actually made it.”

He nodded, then suddenly shoved his hands in his pocket. He was nervous? What would he have to be nervous about?

“So…I’m going this weekend. Saturday.”

Was he asking her out? Would it be such a bad thing if he did? “Umm…”

“I mean just so you know.” He looked down, away from her, and then looked up again. “It’s a huge area, and…”

He was hedging already. Which meant he actually had asked her out. Or something.

Just to make sure, she asked. “Why me?”

“First, I don’t know anybody else in the area.”

She laughed.

“Two,” he continued, apparently undeterred by the giggles, “your sister and her friends are cool, smart people, but I’m not in the mood to spend an entire afternoon at a hockey rink talking business. That’s boring.”

She nodded, again.

“Look…”

Was that defeat in his expression?

“You seem like the kind of person I can talk to. Heck, I’m already talking. Probably way too much.”

She found herself smiling, a popular country song suddenly taking up residence in her head. “You’re fine,” she said. “I was curious. But okay, I’ll go with you on Saturday.”

The relief Sam felt after Deborah had agreed to go to watch hockey with him on Saturday was palpable. But before he could give her more than a smile, someone had come over and yanked him into another conversation, leaving Deb alone with her sister.

Each conversation he entered into followed the same playbook and covered a mix of business, the differences between DC, New York, and LA (he missed New York pizza and the subway equally), and how the current administration was making life difficult for everybody.

Which is why he spent most of the rest of the evening searching Deborah out. He would go from a business conversation to a short one with her. With each passing moment, he learned more about the woman behind the classroom he helped to fund. She was funny, and without pretense.

“Pineapple on pizza?” she wondered during one of those moments.

“Yes,” he said, remembering a scene in LA with a few friends. “Absolutely. I love the combination of the sweet pineapple and the acidic sauce.”

“You have no taste,” she informed him, gleefully, her eyes sparkling. “Next you’ll tell me a hot dog is a sandwich.”

He laughed, but before he could answer that one, he was dragged off to another business conversation.

Yes, he knew he was in DC to help a film, which meant a lot of his interactions would revert to that kind of business talk. Nevertheless, spending every waking hour talking business was not a good recipe for his continued wellbeing. Deb was the breath of fresh air he needed.

All he had to do was, at some point, to tell her he’d been bankrolling her classroom.

“My sister-in law’s a cool chick,” Liz finally said once she and Sam were alone. “Be careful though. I don’t want to have to kill you. I love my wife, but she’s a softie.”

He laughed. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’d love to have Deb as a friend. I don’t have many of those.”

Liz nodded slowly, seeming to let the information sink in, maybe judging it, and him. “And if you guys don’t end up being just friends?”

There was a LOT to think about, but only one thing he could tell Liz. “Then I’ll treat her like the queen she is. I won’t take anything to a place she doesn’t want it to go.”

“I like that answer, and I especially like that you had to think about it.” Liz paused, and if she had been wearing glasses, Sam felt she would be giving him the ‘over the glasses’ look. “There’s a lot of shit going around regarding guys who don’t think, or who think that they’re the shit.”

Yep. Sam knew about those. From President Crosby all the way down, there had been more reports about guys finally getting called out for their consistently atrocious behavior towards women.

“There’s clearly a power differential,” he said. “I’d be an idiot if I didn’t create a great deal of wiggle room. But, ” he paused, because he knew the next words he uttered would be the most important. “I want to get to know her. And if she doesn’t want to get to know me, I’ll leave her alone.”

Then Liz gave him what felt like the nod of permission. “Okay.”

Deb usually wasn’t sure of what to make of her extroverted sister. Her film business focused friends and their parties, but this one had been nice. There were people she could speak to, not just Sam. But it was nice to speak to him. He wanted to hear whatever she had to say, about sports, about politics, and about how badly she craved a roll from her favorite restaurant. He didn’t care that she had dropped a fig on her sweater during another of their conversations.

She wanted to find him before she left. Thankfully, he was trying to get away from a conversation with some random dude.

“Hey,” he said, his eyes brightening in a way that warmed her insides as he turned away from the dude. “You doing okay?”

There was concern on his face, and she liked that. Except she wondered what she’d done, or what she’d spilled to put it there. “I think I’m about done,” she said.

“That’s right,” he said. “You had a long day, too?”

“Didn’t involve travel or a kitten, but I think herding a bunch of kids earns me a nap.”

“The teacher definitely deserves a nap,” he replied. “So you’re going to head out?”

She nodded, ran a hand up through her hair. “Yeah.” She didn’t want an extended discussion about her school problems. She wanted to have a happy conversation with a hot guy. “But I’m looking forward to Saturday hockey.”

His smile was lethal. It glowed. “Me too. Do you want me to meet you beforehand?”

“I’m going to services first though, so I’ll meet you there?”

Thankfully, his eyes weren’t actually LED lights; otherwise, she’d have ended up with a migraine. “I’m in the mood for temple too, actually. Honestly, I’m usually a Friday night guy, but I need to crash tomorrow night.”

He was hot, Jewish, and went to services? She needed to pinch herself. “Do you go all the time?”

She waited for him to answer as his cologne found permanent residence in her nostrils, his scent playing havoc with her brain.

“I go when I need a touchstone. First Friday in a new city, first…time I can breathe after finishing a project, first…” he shrugged. “Regularly enough that a small temple would notice, seldom enough to be a random attendee in a large temple. I will not ask you where you’re going, though. I’ll call my cousin. He must have gone to a service he liked.”

“If I see you there I’ll save you a seat?”

He nodded, and the smile on his face melted her toes. “I’d like that.”

And if she let herself think about it, she’d like spending the day with him, too.