My family has a tradition of deceptions where love is concerned. I was named for my great-grandmother, Shoshana Reizel, who was ten years older than her husband, but he didn’t know that until the day he died. Shoshana Reizel’s son, Yaakov, was twenty years older than his wife, our grandmother, Tzippora, but he did not reveal that to her until after the wedding. Am I, too, preserving the family tradition of secrets and deceptions? Is there a limit to love?