One day, upon seeing her crossing the street, Rafael waved an envelope in the air. Quickly, Batya took the letter from him, touched his cheek in thanks, and tucked the envelope in her skirt pocket. Thank you, God! Walking away, she couldn’t bear the thought of waiting until she reached the privacy of her chamber to read it. She stepped into the space between two houses and, standing under a line of wet laundry, tore open the seal.

Why should I apply for hard work through the Baron when I have a rich daughter who wears pearls and whose house—a mansion with broad stairs—can keep us all bathing in butter? I can see you roaming with a key ring through all those rooms, with clocks everywhere and alcoves that hold fine tchotchkes. I imagine the pantries you’ve described, stocked with goose liver, cured beef, jars filled with jam and schmaltz. And those rows of pickled cucumbers and sauerkraut are waiting for me to feast every day! I can’t wait to fill my belly with them.

Batya wanted to stamp her feet in frustration. Oh, no. Please don’t, she begged, then read on.

Every time I think of the wonderful life the Master of the Universe has blessed you with, my heart expands like in a holiday. I can’t wait to have all my teeth capped in gold, as I’ve heard is the custom in America. I count the days until I’ll see you again, may they be as numbered as the coins in my pocket.

Attached to her father’s letter was a note from Surale, written by a scribe:

Dear Most Esteemed Sister Batya,

All our prayers are with you, my darling sister. May your beauty shine through the universe the way it fills my heart with light. Please remember us, your loving family, with your very generous heart. For the blessed memory of our beloved mother we beg you to send us the passage tickets you promised so long ago.

A detailed list of the nine names and dates of birth of each family member followed. Batya sighed. The dates in the Jewish lunar calendar were useless for the issuing of official documents. When the time came, Efram would have to convert them to the Gregorian calendar. Most important, Keyla and her children were listed, which meant that Surale had reached her in Siberia. Batya also learned from the list that Surale must have given birth to two boys, but her baby girl had died. Poor Surale. God should protect Surale’s sons.

Batya picked up the second page of her sister’s letter and read its closing paragraph.