“Never heard of it. These are like little works of art!” Mr. Bittner held up a tile to inspect it. “Now, why is there a bird when all the other bamboo tiles show sticks?”
“Good question!” Leah was happy to impart her wisdom. “Mahjong means ‘sparrow’ in Chinese. My best friend’s mom said it’s due to the clicking tiles sounding like a flock of sparrows when you shuffle them.” She demonstrated, pushing up her sleeves and mixing the tiles on the coffee table. “We call it ‘washing’ the tiles.”
“She’s like a poker dealer! Saul, you should take her to Vegas,” Mr. Bittner laughed.
Leah stole a quick view at Avi to see if the mention of Vegas had trigger implications.
But Avi was just studying the tiles…and the tattoo she’d exposed on her forearm.
“Which came first?” he murmured, running a finger across the Sailor Jerry-style sparrow inked on her delicate skin.
She shivered. “In this case, the set.” She’d given all the suits a traditional tattoo styling, as well as the box it came in, with old-school curlicues and roses. “But sometimes, it’s the other way around.”
Something flashed in his eyes as she talked. Admiration? Affection? Whatever it was, she let it wash over her in a pleasant wave. With the Bittners sweet hospitality, their fireplace blazing, and coffee still flowing along with the laughter, she knew they’d made the right move coming to the place where Mr. and Mrs. Horowitz had stayed.
Big Al was kind enough to drive Bertha over to the Bit O’ Honey with an ulterior motive – his daughter, again sitting shotgun. School had been canceled due to the snow, so Lorelei had rounded up what must’ve been half her bedroom for Avi to sign: a poster, an album, a pillow...even her yearbook.
While Avi was occupied, Leah carried the Mahjong set back to the Bittners. “The sparrow is also good luck, and it was our good luck to find you during the storm. So I’d like you to have this.”
Their shock was apparent, but Leah insisted. “You can add it to your game collection over there,” She nodded to the bookcase in the common area stacked with family favorites. “You never know when you might get a group of Mahj players staying here.”
“We’ll advertise it,” Mrs. Bittner promised, hugging her. “And maybe I’ll even find a local group to continue learning. Thank you, dear.”
Chapter Fifteen
Avi must’ve dozed off because the next thing he knew, Leah was pulling to a stop in a parking lot. It was raining, and Mrs. Horowitz’s coat lay on top of him like a lead blanket.
“We’re just outside of Binghamton,” she said, noticing he was awake. “Hungry?”
“Starving.” He clocked the flags, American and Israeli, flying outside the building. “Why are we in a JCC parking lot?”
“Well, since you helpfully added “Avi wants pancakes” to my list, and I saw signs for a Hanukkah festival on the way into town, I thought we’d check it out. Better than fast food and quicker than a sit-down meal. Plus, how much do you want to bet, dollars to donuts, they’re serving latkes?”
“Don’t you mean,gelttosufganiyot?” Avi said wryly. “And I didn’t mean potato pancakes.”
Then again, now that Leah had mentioned latkes, he was totally craving them. And a Hanukkah fest was like a Jewish version of the all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast at a fire hall.
Sure enough, as they approached the entrance and followed a happy family through the double doors, Avi spied a large sign. “Latkepalooza– clever them.”
“Clever us, for scoring cheap dinner.” Leah joined the queue to pay the five-dollar cover charge that got them a plateful of latkes and unlimited access to the toppings bar.
“I’ll do you one better.” Avi steered them into the will-call line. “Taking a page from your book, Queen of the Food Court.”
“We can’t take someone else’s paid spot,” she hissed. “Rules!”
“You’ll see,” he murmured close to the shell of her ear.
“Welcome…?” The woman trailed off quizzically, and Avi prayed she wasn’t a member of his core demographic.
“Julian and Esther.”
“Ah, the Rosenbergs! We’ve got you here…somewhere…Hannah!” She called over. “Do you have the Rosenbergs?”
That woman gave a frantic wave, beckoning them over.
“Did you just name us after the Soviet spies?” Now it was Leah, close in his ear, as they shuffled into the next, much shorter line.
“That would beJulius. AndEthel. And I was going to say Greenberg. They just made assumptions based on familiarity. You know, similar-sounding names in the Zeitgeist. Must be some sort of audio illusion.”
