"Think you're a bunch of bicycle cowboys, don't ya?"drawled a lanky boy who eased himself from the shadows of the blacksmith's barn. He hitched up one shoulder of his worn overalls. "Y'all look like rodeo clowns." The riders circled him. "Quit blowing smoke, Joe!" called out one. "You're just mad because your pa won't let ya ride anything but some old nag." Then they took off down the alley.

Joe waved away the cloud of dust before seeing Max. "What are you grinning at? Bet ya don't even know what I said, greenhorn!" Max stood very straight and still. "Yes, I do," he said softly.

Suddenly, Max felt a firm hand on his shoulder. His uncle led him back into the storeroom.

"What a dreamer you are! It's time to get your head out of the clouds. Mrs. Lerner is waiting for milk, and you haven't unloaded the milk crates. Be a good boy now and fill the icebox. We've got to keep our customers happy, or they'll take their business elsewhere."

At twelve Max was still short, but he easily lifted the crate and carried it into the store.

"You know my nephew, Max, don't you, Mrs. Lerner?" Uncle Benny asked a plump, gray-haired customer.

"Why, yes," she nodded. "Aren't he and his parents living upstairs with you?"

"Yes, my brother-in-law, Samuel, has been with me for quite awhile, but my sister and the children just arrived from Russia last year, in May of 1912," he said proudly. "It's a little crowded, but, for family," Uncle Benny shrugged and smiled, "nothing is impossible. Besides, my niece, Leah, is staying with a cousin for awhile. She's helping in their dairy."

The milk bottles clinked together as Max put the last four into the icebox. He felt Uncle Benny watching him carefully.

"Max, how about Mrs. Lerner's milk? She's been very patient with us."

"Yes, Uncle Benny." As Max stood up quickly, his knickers pulling at his knees, he slipped on a small puddle of melting ice. Next thing he knew, he was on his back, holding only the neck of the broken bottle. Milk soaked through his apron onto his shirt, and broken bits of glass were everywhere.

"Oy, gevalt! What now? Trouble follows you like moths to the light! Are you okay, boychik?" His brow furrowed, Uncle Benny bent over Max.

Mrs. Lerner made a clucking noise but didn't move from the counter. "Is the boy hurt?"

"Nothing that a good washing won't cure."

"Good! My grandson will be howling for his bottle any minute."

"Don't worry," replied Uncle Benny. "My nephew will sit here and not move an inch while I get your milk. Right, Max?"

Max nodded, milk trickling in an itchy path down his neck.

Uncle Benny gave him a look and whispered grimly, "Not an inch." Then he quickly gave Mrs. Lerner the milk and wrote up the sale. "I'm very sorry you had to wait. I assure you, next time I'll handle everything myself."

Mrs. Lerner nodded curtly and glanced over her shoulder at Max. "Good luck, Mr. Hirsch."

With all the commotion, they hadn't heard Max's mother coming down the stairs. Suddenly she shrieked, "Muttel!"

At the sound of his Yiddish name, Max leapt up, crunching glass underfoot.

Mama was instantly at his side, speaking rapidly in Yiddish, "Bubeleh! What happened?"

Before Max could answer, she turned her fiery eyes to her brother, Benny. "How could you wait on a customer with my son covered in glass?" Mama was a small, pale woman who seemed even tinier since their arrival in America. Still, when she spoke, people listened.

"Miriam, it's not how it looks!" Uncle Benny threw his hands up as if he were pleading for help from the Almighty."He's a little soggy but fine."

"He's right, Mama. You worry too much," Max grinned sheepishly.

"See? What did I tell you?" Uncle Benny smoothed Mama's hair as if she were a frightened child. "You know what a klutz he is!"

Max's smile disappeared. "Uncle Benny doesn't remember the things I do well," he thought, "but he never forgets even the smallest mistake!"

Mama patted Max's face with a corner of her apron before he pulled away.

"I'll get the broom and clean this up, he said."

"No!" Mama and Uncle Benny said together.

Startled, Max jumped, crunching on more glass.

With one hand on his temple, Uncle Benny shook his head in disbelief. "This is your department, Miriam. Besides, a customer just came in."

"A customer, a customer!" Mama muttered under her breath. She began picking small bits of glass from Max's hair.

"Not here, Mama, where everyone can see!"

"It would only take one small piece to fall in an eye and blind you!" fussed Mama. "Oy!" Her hand jerked back. Bright red blood bubbled up on one of her fingertips.

"Now you're hurt!" Max took a clean, white handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it gently around her finger.

"No, Max, I'm fine." Mama tugged at the handkerchief. "I can take care of myself."

"And I can take care of myself, Mama." He pulled the apron off over his head and let it drop to the floor where it soaked up the spilled milk. "I'll go outside to shake off the glass.Then I'll come back and clean up the floor." He began to untie his shoes.

"My son, the expert. We come to America, and suddenly you don't respect your mother anymore?"

With one hand resting on her shoulder, Max stepped out of his shoes and over the soggy apron. Even in his socks, he was taller than she. "Stop it! You know I respect you, but I'm not a baby anymore." Then he turned and walked quickly through the storeroom.

"Slow down, Muttel. You'll fall."

He groaned, "Max, do this. Max, do that. That's all I hear all day!"

Outside, he shook his head over the grass until he was dizzy. Sure even the tiniest piece was gone, he returned to the store and the sound of raised voices.

"Your son is right, Miriam. You're turning him into a Mama's boy."

"All the men in this family are experts. You have no children. And now you're telling me how to raise my son?"

There was a long silence. Then Uncle Benny continued in a quiet, sad voice. "No one knows better than I what I've missed. Just because Anna died before we could be blessed with children doesn't mean that I know nothing of these things. Wasn't I a boy once myself?"

"Oh, Benny! I'm sorry. You've been so good to us. I don't know what's wrong with me!"

Uncle Benny patted her hand. "I understand, Miriam. You just miss your family. But things will get better. You'll see."

Mama sighed. "I do worry about Samuel. My poor husband, all alone in his wagon, selling his goods to strangers. Still, he says he'll be back by Passover, and Samuel always keeps his word.

"Leah visits when she can," reminded Uncle Benny, "and we're all saving money to send for Rivka, your oldest." He continued in a husky voice. "I know you miss Avram and Eli too..."

"No, please!" Mama sniffed softly. "I can't talk about it. It's been two years since my sons died, but the hurt is still strong!"

"I know. I know. After Anna died, I thought I couldn't go on, but I did. In time, it gets a little easier."

Max had heard all he could stand. He missed his family too, the way it once was when they were all together. He walked slowly outside to the loading dock. There he crouched, his hands shading his eyes as he looked down the empty, dusty alley. Would they ever be a family again? It could never happen without Papa. As if his wishes were prayers, he whispered them reverently. "Please come home soon, Papa. We need you."