Charlene turned to me as well. “Yes, isn’t it?” she said. Now she and Marilee were allies in their admiration. “Tricia’s out to repair the world,” Charlene pronounced, as if I were a precocious child. “She taught me the Hebrew phrase for this: tikkun olam. Repair the world. It’s her cri de guerre.” Marilee shook her head and breathed an admiring “Ahh”—won over completely, although, in truth, She certainly doesn’t look Jewish was written plainly across her big brow.
