The best part of the evening for Rachel was when Papa tucked Bronna and her under their blanket, and Bronna said, Tell us a story. Hyman always said he was getting too old for all that, but Rachel wouldnt be surprised if he was listening from his room, because he didnt shut the door. Although she was also getting oldershe could almost hear Mama saying, Grow up, Rachel!she still loved to hear the tales, especially with Bronna doing the asking.

Which story tonight? Papa asked.

The Bubbetchka, Bronna quickly replied. You know, the one where shes a gypsy

Though all Rachel could see in the darkness was Papas silhouette, she knew the smile that would crinkle his lips and she trembled with anticipation. The Bubbetchkas adventures, which had been told to him by his parents when he was a child, were centuries old. As she listened, Rachel felt the presence of her grandparents in the hushed room. Some nights the Bubbetchka was a kindly old lady, other nights a mean witch. Rachel knew the tales by heart, but she hung on each word as Papa drawled, Once upon a time He stopped to take a deep breath. Then with a wondrous rush of words came there was a Bubbetchka.

Rachel sank deeper into her pillow to listen.

The children were naughty. Although they had been warned by their parents to beware of strangers, they followed the smiling gypsy dressed in trailing scarves of crimson, purple, and gold. Her sweet-playing violin called to them, luring them deeper and deeper into the shadows that filled the forest.

As Rachel listened to Papa telling that familiar story, she heard the violin play, she saw Bubbetchka with all the children in town dancing after her as night fell and the sky blazed with thousands of starsa ballet enacted in the forest.

Rachel loved these moments listening to Papas dear, soft voice, and feeling the comfort of his presence in the dark. Too soon, Bronnas little snores meant she was asleep. Too old at eleven to ask her father to continue, she remained silent as he tiptoed out of the room.

She lay awake in the bedroom. She smelled the strong aroma of her fathers Turkish cigarette coming from the kitchen. She heard the clink of their nightly glasses of hot tea against the saucers. Her parents probably thought she was asleep because their voices were not lowered.

The boss doesnt have enough work, Papa said.

Rachel heard her mothers deep sigh. Its that bad?

If I get fired, where will I get another job during these bad times?

After youve worked so hard, your boss wont let you go

Hah, Papa interrupted. Business is business.

and youve been with him fourteen years, Mama continued. As long as weve been married.

Hes getting rid of the horse and wagon deliveries. Im one of the last. You know trucks have taken over. If I had the money, Id buy a truck and go into the business for myself.

But you have to know how to read and write English to take the drivers test.

Thats the trouble. With my late hours who has time to go to school or to study at home? Anyhow, how much longer can I carry heavy iron stoves up stairs?

The shadows flitting around Rachel in the dark drew a picture of Papa carrying a tremendous stove on his back, walking up countless, never-ending flights of stairs, his body slowly shrinking under the load.

Under the blankets Rachel shivered.

Her mothers voice rescued her. If we could only buy Sams teahouse. Wed work hard but wed make a living, youd be your own bosswhat youve always wanted. Maybe we could afford art and dancing lessons for Hyman and Rachel.

How wonderful! Mama discouraged Rachels dancing, yet she saved for the Swan Lake tickets, and now this. A flicker of hope long dormant flared, but only for a moment as she heard Papa say, Oh, whats the use, Dora. Ive talked to Sam for years, offered all our savings. Its not enough. The marvel is you can save at all with the little I give you.

Mamas laugh filtered into the bedrooms. I dont stint on foodI buy the best. But I know how to shop; nobody can manage the way I do. And none of the children on the block have such healthy red cheeks as ours.

The voices in the kitchen became whispers. The lonely moan of the wind in the desolate night added to Rachels feeling of hopelessness. If only time hurried by and her dancing dream was fulfilled, she would take care of her parentstheyd never have to worry about money again. Shed buy them a big house, with a garden full of roses

A shadow appeared, circling around her bed, taunting her: There you go, dreaming again.

She closed her eyes. The little ruffled collar on her flannel nightgown tickled her neck as she cuddled closer to Bronna. Putting her right hand against her heart, as she did every night since she could remember, she began her prayers:

Please God, watch over Mama and Papa. Please find a way for them to get Sams teahouse so Papa will have his own business and wont have to worry about getting fired. And watch over Bronnaand Hyman She prayed for everyone in order of importance, and at the last

And dear God, please help Mama and Papa buy the teahouse so theyll be able to afford to give me dancing lessons.