“Coins? If I carried all this money in gold and silver, its weight would make a hole in the ground and I’d be buried in it.” He tapped Batya’s father on the shoulder. “Koppel, my friend, my new family, you’ve made me a very happy man.” He turned to Batya. “Say your goodbyes.”

She felt her brow furrow, and her parents exchanged a look, but the confusion was settled when Surale chirped, “Goodbye, Reb Moskowitz.”

Batya’s mother raised the corner of her apron and dabbed her nose. “Blessings upon you, Reb Moskowitz, in your long travels.”

“As the Good Book says, ‘Go in health, and return in health.’” Batya’s father waved. “We’ll see you in two years’ time.”

Reb Moskowitz’s surprised gaze moved from one to the other. “I must not have explained properly. I’m not coming back. Batya will come with me.” He turned to Batya and smiled. “You will live with my sister until you are of age. She’ll teach you how to run a house, how to use your china and silver, how to supervise the servants that polish the mahogany furniture and care for the brocade upholstery. She’ll have French seamstresses outfit you in beautiful silk dresses. You do want to learn how to be a lady of means, right?”

Batya’s father raised his hand as if to stop him. “The river won’t catch fire if Batya waits here until you send for her.”

“Don’t you trust your future son-in-law?” asked Reb Moskowitz.

“Oh, yes. Of course, of course,” Batya’s mother said quickly. “But it’s too fast.”

A sad expression passed Reb Moskowitz’s face. “Unfortunately, I must leave tonight. My business interests require my immediate attention.”

Something boiled inside Batya like a teakettle on the stove. She was supposed to be happy at seeing all those rubles changing hands, all because of her. It was a blessing, yes, but also a huge misunderstanding. She wasn’t ready to leave her family.

Batya’s mother shook her head. “I must consult my grandmother Tzipporah in the next world.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “For such a weighty decision, I’m sure that tonight she’ll visit me in my dream.”

Reb Moskowitz turned to Batya’s father. “You know how business goes. You turn your eyes for a moment, and your competitor steals your deals.”

“Of course. Of course. That’s the way of business.” Batya’s father tapped his belly like a landowner. “Where in America will our daughter live?”

“In Buenos Aires. My beautiful city.”

Batya’s father’s beard twitched. “Is that near Pittsburgh?”

“South of it.”

Batya’s mother glanced at the music box. “We need to reflect on it,” she said to Reb Moskowitz. She motioned to her husband to step outside.