Still wondering why Papa had clearly wanted this girl to stay, Annie pushed open the door

February 9, 1964

When you grow up next to the sea as she had, Annie thought sleepily, the waves are your lullaby.

But if the sound of the waves dashing themselves angrily against the seashore had soothed her into slumber, it was the flashes of lightning and cracks of thunder that brought her to abrupt wakefulness just a few hours later.

Not that she minded. It had been such a full, emotion-laden weekend, with her brother Moey finally back at the hotel, sitting in his usual place and singing his stunning zemiros with Papa, that now, as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, she welcomed the chance for a few moments of quiet thought.

But first, a mother’s task: Check on the children. Ruchele, next to her in bed, shifted slightly and snuggled deeper into her blanket. The twins, lying on mattresses on the floor, breathed evenly and quietly, clearly exhausted after a long day.

After spending Shabbos and Sunday morning in the hotel, Abe, Artie, and Mutty had gone home. Abe had to review the files of Monday morning’s patients so he’d be ready for them, and Mutty and Artie had studying to do. Annie, though, had chosen to stay over in the hotel. Her brother Moe had been back for only two days, she’d explained, and though Shabbos had been beautiful, they’d hardly found any private time for a good catch-up schmooze. She would keep the little ones with her.

Well, they’d made up for lost time, reminiscing, talking, just enjoying each other’s company for hours. They’d hardly noticed the rising winds of the winter storm as they remembered their Coney Island childhood and caught up with each other’s lives: Moe’s grief at the loss of his wife and Annie’s sadness at never having met her sister-in-law in person; Moe’s career as a mechanech and now, unexpectedly, as a popular author; Abe’s decision, after his war experiences, to serve mankind as a doctor and his choice of pediatrics as his specialty. Moe seemed oddly reticent about his own part in the war — though more than two decades had passed, he was still bound to secrecy about his war work as a codebreaker in Bletchley Park — but Annie told him how Abe often shared tales of his days as a paratrooper.

They talked, also, of the future. Annie was content to raise her children and help her husband in his successful practice. “What with all the Holocaust survivors moving in, Boro Park is growing so fast, and I love being part of such a Jewish neighborhood. I’m happy to stay there forever,” she said.