C H A P T E R T H I R T Y-T H R E E
Recap: Blumi Hartstein, daughter of the deceased Mr. Katz, worries about the envelope with the yad she’d given to a bachur to watch over. Wanting to keep this sentimental memento from her father for herself, she doesn’t want her brothers to know about it. Having just recovered from the flu, Binyamin suddenly remembers the envelope he had been given. He searches everywhere, but cannot recall where he has put it. Blumi didn’t care for the cakes and petit fours that her sisters-in-law had prepared for the siblings’ meeting. The fact that she wasn’t at all a good baker herself was just a side point. After all, she could buy as many of these cakes as she liked. But she didn’t want to. Who needed all these elaborate cakes here? As if they hadn’t gotten up from shivah only yesterday… “Why aren’t you eating anything, Blumi?” her oldest brother, Beri, asked. “I don’t have an appetite,” she replied, glancing grimly at the empty china closet. They should send all of these cakes straight in there. They were pretty to look at, but that was all, at least in her opinion. “Oh, you’re wondering about the china closet?” Beri had misinterpreted her glance. “I told you that the first time Tatty was hospitalized for a longer time, he asked me to take all the silver to my house, for safety.” “Yes, I remember,” she said tersely. “Those need to be divided, as well,” her second brother, Shmulik, remarked. “That’s the simplest thing,” Beri said. “We have some more serious things to deal with, before the silver. Things like Tatty’s factory, and the buildings in Yerushalayim. What
happens with those?” Words were tossed around, ideas were aired and thoughts were shared, but Blumi didn’t hear any of it. She sat with her chin resting in her palms, her eyes staring blankly at the wall. Gideon stood near the window, smoking. Strange how a domineering businessman like him could suddenly become practically invisible here, despite being in the same room as the others. He didn’t like getting involved in her family’s financial affairs — and she knew that. But her brothers often asked him for help and advice. Beri had been the one to ask him to join this meeting, as well. “Blumi?” Beri asked gently. The 22 years that separated them in age meant that he always treated her like an elderly uncle treats his niece. Now, with Beri’s being 67 years old, with a long white beard, that tone had only become more pronounced. “What do you say?” “In my opinion, it won’t be simple at all to divide the silver,” she said. “For example, as the only daughter, I really would like Mommy’s candlesticks. You also probably want specific things. The silver yad, for example — does no one want that?”
December 11, 2019 / THE MONSEY VIEW / 113 www.themonseyview.com / 845.600.8484