The Cats in the Doll Shop by Yona Zeldis McDonough Page A

Kathleen’s lilting speech. Sophie, Trudie, and I are lucky enough not to catch it, but poor Tania gets it worse than anyone else and runs a fever of one hundred and two. She has to miss school and stay in bed. I know Mama is worried about her. I can tell by the tight line of her mouth and the deep shadows under her eyes. Trudie and I take turns bringing Tania hot tea with honey and bowls of Mama’s chicken soup. But Tania will not eat or drink. She clings to Shannon and calls for her mother. Yet even when a new letter comes—one of the thin, gray envelopes we know so well by now—she seems too agitated to read it, or even to have it read to her.
    One morning just before Christmas, while Tania is still sick in bed, Papa asks me for Shannon—he has a meeting with Mr. Greenfield in a little while and he wants to bring the doll along. I creep into the room. Tania is asleep, and so I quietly take the doll from her arms and give it to Papa. “I’ll be back before she gets up,” he says.
    When I get home from school, I hurry into the shop to see Papa. He is at his desk, with his big order sheet spread out in front of him.
    â€œWhat did Mr. Greenfield say about Shannon?” I ask.
    â€œHe seemed to like her. But he said he was so busy now he couldn’t think about her,” Papa says. “He’ll have to get back to me.”
    Oh. Well, at least he didn’t say no outright. But I don’t feel too hopeful. If he had really liked her, he would have said so right away.
    â€œThere’s another problem,” Papa says. “One of the buckles on the satchel isn’t there. It must have gotten lost.”
    I remember how much Tania liked those buckles. But then I also remember there was a bunch of belts—and a bunch of buckles, too! Quickly, I locate the box, find the belt, and show the buckles to Papa. I am able to replace the buckle before Tania wakes and notices it is gone.
    In the morning, Tania’s fever has broken. She drinks a cup of tea and eats a piece of bread and jam. Mama is relieved. The worst, she says, is over. And soon, Christmas is over, too. All the dolls are delivered—barely!—in time, and Tania is better. She looks a bit pale after her sickness, but Mama assures us she will be all right.
    I am glad we are all well again. All except Plucky. I wonder where he is now? But there is no way of knowing. Plucky , I think as I walk to the library or to the grocery store for my mother. Plucky, we’re thinking of you . Stay safe. Stay strong . Some people might think I am being foolish, talking in my head to a cat, especially one who is not even here. But I talk to my doll, don’t I? So why not talk to a cat? It may not help. But then again, it can’t hurt either.

12
    W INTER WONDERLAND
    The month of February brings snow, snow, and more snow. Everything is transformed by the wonderful whiteness that pours down from the sky. It’s as if all the everyday objects we know so well—a shop sign, a mailbox, a fire hydrant—have suddenly been covered with a coat of frosting. Because of the snow, school is closed on Thursday, a glorious day that we spend outside with all the children on our block who have come out to play. We make snow angels. We build snowmen, snow women, and snow children. We fashion forts and igloos and pelt each other with snowballs until we are so cold and wet that we simply have to get warm. Waving good-bye, everyone drifts back home.
    But my sisters and I have fun inside, too. Mama makes cups of hot chocolate, into which she drops fat, pillowlike marshmallows. We pop kernels of corn on the stove. Sprinkled with salt and drizzled with melted butter, the popcorn is delicious. We bring our dolls out, too, and give them hot chocolate from the tea set we bought one year at F.A.O. Schwarz.
    Even Sophie, who hasn’t wanted to play dolls much lately, is willing today, especially when Mama gives us a bag of scraps from