AGRAMONTE

March 21, 1938

Dearest Malka,

Papa and I have been working constantly. We barely go out, except to buy bread and eggs and milk on Calle Independencia. We have ten dresses to make that will earn us much more money than we get from peddling. If we keep going, we’ll have all of you here very soon! But Papa insisted we rest on Saturday and respect our Shabbos. He prayed and sat in the yard, contemplating the trees and the flowers. I daydreamed about dresses, how I’d change collars or pockets to create different looks.

Our neighbors must have been wondering what we were doing indoors. They had gotten used to seeing us with our satchels, roaming about the town and trudging on the dirt roads leading to the sugar mill. Late on Sunday afternoon, Señora Graciela knocked on our door to ask if we were well. She was wearing the black dress I’d made for her and I could see her white handkerchiefs sticking out of the pockets. I meant to tell her how much I appreciated her gift of the sewing machine, but I was so busy making the dresses, I had not had a chance to knock on her door.

She was stunned to see how the house had been turned upside down with our sewing. Dresses in different stages of completion were scattered on the kitchen table and on the floor of the living room.

“This has become a factory!” she said. “Una fábrica.”

From the way she said the word “fábrica,” I wondered if we were doing something wrong.

I said, “No, no fábrica. Papa and me.”

I was happy when she smiled and said she was glad we were well. And then she invited us to come to dinner the next day.

Papa and I stood at the door as she turned in the direction of her house. In that same moment, Señor Eduardo appeared on his whinnying horse. He stared at us so coldly it gave me the shivers. He didn’t say it, but I knew the word “judíos” was on the tip of his tongue. He got off the horse and accompanied Señora Graciela to her house.

We shut the door and kept on sewing, rushing to finish the dresses we had promised by the end of the week.

I tried not to think about Señor Eduardo, but he scared me. All I had to do was recall his icy glare to get chills, though it was as hot and humid as ever.

With all my love as always,

ESTHER