When she said that, Wanda had turned her back on Johanna, who was standing next to her, and dropped her voice to say that Thomas Heimer would have no objection if she moved in with him. Ruth answered icily that it would not come to that. If Wanda was really thinking of staying on and living in Thuringia—and Ruth objected strongly to the idea—then at least they would make the necessary arrangements. And they would make them from New York—after calm reflection—and with Wanda there to discuss the matter.
It was probably just a cheap trick to get her to come back home, Wanda thought. Mother very likely believed that once Wanda was back there, her fascination with Lauscha would vanish like smoke up the chimney. But she was wrong. All right, maybe she had once been a bit of a scatterbrain. But this time nothing and nobody could change her mind! The thought comforted her somewhat.
“And just when things have begun going so well,” she sniffled, then had to leap aside to avoid being knocked down by a wagon.
“If you fall under those wheels, it won’t matter how things are going,” Johanna answered. Then she led Wanda into the nearest café, quite unprompted. She ordered them a cup of coffee and a slice of tart each.
“Come on, give us a smile! As I understand it, your mother isn’t entirely against the idea of your living in Thuringia. But this kind of thing needs planning, I agree with Ruth there. For instance what about this Harold, who your mother says is your fiancé? Doesn’t he have a right to know what you intend to do with your life?” There was no mistaking the note of reproach in Johanna’s voice.
“Harold!” Wanda said scornfully. “There was never anything official, that engagement of ours was more like a private joke. Do you know I’ve only had two letters from him since he was appointed bank manager? Out of sight, out of mind—you say that in Germany too, don’t you?” She sighed. “But you’re right about one thing. It’s about what I intend to do with my life! I don’t owe Harold any apology and Mother shouldn’t imagine that she can make me feel guilty about him.”
Johanna drew a deep breath as if she were about to deliver a strong response, but Wanda watched her fall silent when she saw the waitress coming over. The scent of freshly roasted coffee beans rose up to them and after the first sip Wanda decided that Johanna was right to call coffee the elixir of life. She already felt a little better . . .
Johanna looked up from her tart. “If I can come back to our conversation . . . Whether or not it was an official engagement, I do feel that you should tell him the truth straight out. Or do you want to just wriggle out of things, the way Marie did with poor Magnus?”
No, she didn’t want to do that, Wanda admitted silently. She always felt sad when she saw Magnus suffering in silence, with that look in his eyes that said he still didn’t understand how the love of his life could simply vanish like that. Not that she believed Harold would suffer the same way—he seemed to have adjusted quite nicely to life without her. All the same, she was ready to make a clean break. But that didn’t mean she had to go back to America, did it?
“And then there are financial considerations. Even banal details like handling your own household budget need thinking about, you know. Please don’t misunderstand me, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like,” Johanna said. “But you won’t be able to live out of a suitcase forever. And you must have things back home that you miss.”
“I have everything I need,” Wanda answered huffily. For all she cared, her mother could give all her possessions away to charity—what need would she have here for a ball gown or pearl-encrusted strappy sandals? “Mother only had a suitcase when she left here, and she never even told you she was going. And Marie left everything behind when she went to live with Franco in Genoa. It seems I’m the only one who has to do what everyone says.”
She thrust out her lower lip petulantly. What if she just stayed here?
“Oh, Wanda . . . Why are you so dead set on repeating the mistakes of the older generation?” Johanna sighed, looking tired all of a sudden. “Wouldn’t it make sense to at least try to do a little better?”
“Why didn’t you tell your mother that we’re getting married?” Richard asked, frowning. “I’m sure that would have changed her mind.”
“Married?” Wanda squealed. “We’ve never even talked about that . . .”
“Why are you blinking like a startled deer? It was clear from the very first that we’d stay together. Which means it’s just as clear that we’ll get married one day. Actually I wanted to wait until . . . well, until I had more to offer you.” He waved his hand vaguely about the room. “But if we have to, then I’ll go up to your father this very evening and ask for your hand in marriage. Whether it happens sooner or later—what difference does it make?” He shrugged as though everything were decided. “Would the future Mrs. Stämme like to give her bridegroom a kiss?” He reached out to Wanda with a twinkle in his eye.