The same knife her mother had scolded her for using on the book was the one she was now being allowed to use for apples.
They had gone apple picking that morning with Rav Harriett and now they were all sitting at the wooden picnic table, working on an apple pie. Even Danny. Actually, Danny was more at the moment playing with the sugar bowl. Their mother was sifting flour, and Rav Harriett and Annamae were paring apples.
“Look how much you’re wasting.” Danny picked up one of Annamae’s parings and showed her how much fruit she’d cut away along with the peel.
“At least I’m contributing.”
“Give me your knife, then.”
“Uh-uh.”
He stuck the chunk of peel in the sugar bowl, then stuffed it in his mouth.
“Mom. Did you see what he just did?”
“Hmm? No. What did he do?”
Rav Harriett swiftly interjected, “He dipped a bit of apple in sugar, which is similar to the custom on Rosh Hashanah of dipping apple in honey. To symbolize a sweet new year.”
“Do we have honey, Mom?”
Their mother brushed her floury hands on her apron and got the honey bear from the cupboard.
“It’s because you’re here, she’s letting us,” Annamae informed Rav Harriett.
All four took a piece of apple and squeezed some honey on top. “Shanah tovah u’metuka,” said Rav Harriett. “Happy new year.”
“Happy new year! Wait, Danny,” said Annamae, “toast.” They touched their apple pieces together like wineglasses.
“There’s another tradition with honey, when children first go to school,” said Rav Harriett. “They would spread a little honey on the letters of the alef-bet and let the children lick it off. The idea was to let them know that learning is sweet.”
In a flash, Annamae had hopped off the bench and started plucking pieces of the magnetic alphabet off the fridge.
“No,” said her mother.
“Why not?”
“Sweetie, because. Gross. We’re not going to lick honey off those. Put them back.”
Sulkily, Annamae stuck the plastic pieces back on the door.
“But I know another custom,” their mother said, “that has to do with letters and apples.”
“What’s that, Jo?”
“You take a peel”—she selected one of Rav Harriett’s parings, which had come out longer and leaner than Annamae’s—“and toss it over your shoulder.”
“Say what?” Danny exclaimed as their mother threw food.
“Then you look at the shape it makes, and that’s the first initial of the person you’re going to marry.”
“For real?”
“That doesn’t look like any letter.”
“It does kind of look like a J.”
“More a lowercase r.”
“That’s because you’re looking at it upside down.”
“I want to try.”
They all took multiple turns until the floor was strewn with apple peel.
“Look, it’s an O,” said Danny.
“Look, it’s a mess,” said their mother.
“Look,” said Annamae, with a special smile for Rav Harriett. “It’s signs and wonders.”