Julia’s Kitchen by Brenda A. Ferber Page A

smiley face on the circle and wrote “I’d be tickled pink if we could make up! I’m sorry, Marlee. Love, Cara.”
    At Sunday school, I tucked the card inside Marlee’s Hebrew book when she took a bathroom break. As soon as she came back, she looked at the card, then looked over at me and smiled. She scribbled on the back of the card and held it up to me.
    â€œI’m sorry, too. Friends?”
    I wrote, “Absolutely,” on my notebook, and showed it to her. We both sighed huge sighs. It sure took a lot of energy to fight with your best friend.
    After Sunday school, when we were waiting in the car pool line, I told Marlee I had a big secret.
    â€œWhat?” she asked.
    â€œPromise you won’t tell anyone? Not even Max?”
    â€œOf course, of course! What is it?”
    â€œI’ve been impersonating my mother.”
    Marlee squinted at me. “Huh?”
    So I explained everything, and she listened with wide eyes and a huge smile.
    â€œSo,” I said, “the only thing left to do is make the name cookies, buy a basket, and deliver it all … tomorrow. Are you in?”
    â€œHa! What kind of question is that? You bet I’m in! I can’t believe I was out for a whole week!”
    Marlee put her arm around me, and my dad pulled up. We had the giggles the whole ride home.

ten
    The reason we didn’t have school on Monday was that it was Pulaski Day. Casimir Pulaski was a Polish general who’d fought in the American Revolution, and we got the day off in his honor. But what I wanted to celebrate was my mom’s birthday. Weird. She wasn’t going to turn forty-three. I wasn’t going to make her a present or bring her breakfast in bed.
    Before getting out of bed, I looked at her picture. Happy Birthday, Mom. I hope Janie takes good care of you today.
    I decided to call Bubbe and Zayde right after breakfast. Bubbe answered, but as soon as she heard my voice she had Zayde pick up an extension.
    â€œOh, Cara, it’s so good to talk to you today,” Bubbe said. Her voice sounded rough, as if she’d been crying.
    â€œAre you okay, Bubbe?” I asked.
    â€œThis is a hard day for all of us,” Zayde said gently.
    â€œI know,” I agreed.
    â€œAre you and Dad doing anything special today?” Bubbe asked. “Maybe dinner at Mom’s favorite restaurant or something?”
    â€œWell, we hadn’t talked about it, really,” I said. “But it’s a good idea. I’ll suggest it to Dad.”
    â€œOh, good, love. You do that. It makes me feel better knowing we’re all thinking of your mom today, and celebrating her life. You know?”
    â€œYes, Bubbe, I know.”
    What I really knew was that I wouldn’t suggest going out for dinner. Because Dad wouldn’t get home until way past dinnertime.
    I hung up the phone feeling sad. Sad for Bubbe and Zayde. Sad for me. But mostly sad for Mom.
    Marlee came over, and I tucked my sadness away. It wasn’t hard because we started baking, and making sure Marlee didn’t mess anything up as we followed the tea cookie recipe took all my attention. Before too long, the cookies were cooling on the counter. Even with Marlee sharing the work, I felt Mom’s presence. I just knew she was there.
    Finally, the time had come to write “Julia” on the cookies. I knew exactly what to do. I filled the frosting squirter with pink buttercream frosting.
    â€œYou try,” I said to Marlee, sliding it across the counter.
    Marlee gingerly picked up the frosting squirter. “Are you sure?” she asked.
    â€œYes,” I said. “I need your help.”
    She started in on the first cookie, sticking her tongue out of the side of her mouth as she concentrated. In perfect print letters, she spelled out J-U-L-I-A. Then she smiled. “There.”
    I examined the cookie. “It’s good,” I admitted. “But my mom always wrote the names