Bertrand Court by Michelle Brafman Page A

thick as honey, filled the room.
    â€œWhat? What’s funny?”
    â€œBirdie Finkelstein’s cement cakes.”
    Goldie couldn’t contain her smile; she could never stay sore at Sylvia for long. “Mama said Birdie dropped one of her honey cakes on her foot and broke her toe.”
    Goldie and Sylvia shared a good laugh.
    â€œI’ve got a surprise for you.” Sylvia set a bowl on the counter. “From my garden.”
    â€œA farmer we’ve got in the family.” Goldie peeled away the tinfoil and nearly gasped at the mound of perfectly shaped raspberries. “We’ll put them in the applesauce.”
    â€œWhatever you like.” Sylvia’s eyes — Mama’s eyes, gray and slightly bulging — shone with pride.
    Goldie couldn’t hold in her news any longer; she patted her belly and smiled big. “You’re not the only one with a surprise.”
    Sylvia paused for a second, and then her eyes widened and she pulled Goldie to her body and hugged her tight. “Mazel tov, mazel tov.” She sniffled.
    Tears of joy. This was exactly how Goldie wanted it to be when she told her sister she had killed the rabbit. She reached deep into the pocket of her housedress and pulled out the crisp white handkerchief Sylvia had given her for her last birthday.
    Sylvia examined the embroidered pink roses and inscription: Always, Sylvia . “It’s too pretty to use.”
    â€œGo ahead, blow already. We’ve got work to do.”
    Sylvia blotted her upper lip, leaving a small dot of pink lipstick. “I’ll take it home and wash.”
    Neither sister would speak another word about the baby. Mama had always warned them that gloating, or even discussing their good fortune, was a sure way to attract the evil eye, especially when it came to babies. Goldie used to think this was mishegas from the old country, but best to be careful anyway. She certainly wouldn’t dare mention Grandma Hannah’s sterling silver baby spoon, smuggled from Minsk. Goldie had always figured that Sylvia would have the first baby because she was older, so she’d get the spoon first, but now Mama would give Goldie the spoon after the first baby came, of course, and she and Sylvia would pass it between them. Like Grandma Hannah and Mama, like Goldie and Sylvia, all the babies in the family would take their first bites from this treasure.
    Goldie took her sister’s cool hand. “Come, let’s start on the cabbage rolls already. Once Hyman comes home, he’ll want what to eat, and that will be that.” She gave Sylvia a head of cabbage and plopped the ground beef in a cast-iron skillet.
    â€œHow many people will we be?” Sylvia asked, cutting out the core of the cabbage with a long knife.
    â€œYou and Irving made twelve, and now Nosy Pants Zelda, that’s thirteen.”
    Sylvia cast her eyes down and began separating cabbage leaves. “Irving can’t…Irving’s not coming.”
    â€œWhat?” Goldie put her hands on her hips, steadying herself against a fresh wave of Irving anger.
    Sylvia smoothed out the cabbage leaves with her slender fingers. “His boss don’t know from Rosh Hashanah.” She spooned ground beef into the flattened leaves and folded them into envelopes.
    â€œTwelve, then. One batch will be plenty.” Goldie pursed her lips as she retrieved a large pot from her bottom cabinet. “Here, help me with the sauce.” She handed Sylvia two cans of tomatoes and a can opener.
    Sylvia stared at the beige linoleum tiles and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I won’t be coming either. Irving doesn’t want I should go by myself.”
    Goldie felt like Sylvia had slapped her. How could her own sister not show for her first Rosh Hashanah feast? A thick silence hung between them as Goldie diced an onion. The smell tore through the kitchen like a brush fire.
    Sylvia minced garlic and