The American Lady(72)

Harold kept an eye on the door as he tried to count up how many German clubs and patriotic societies Wanda had visited over the past three weeks. She had gone to the Black Forest Brotherhood, the Mecklenburg Ladies’ League, the Hamburg Harmony Choir, and even to the Banat Swabian Society. And every time, she had given him a detailed account of each little clan’s customs—in glowing terms. She told him all about the sense of community that bound them together. About the patriotism that shone through in every word and every action. She still didn’t know which of the clubs she actually wanted to join. She liked the North Germans’ songs best, but the Bavarians had the best food, and the Swabians had the most impressive rituals and ceremonies. At the moment, Wanda was most inclined to join the Banat Swabian Society. When Harold had arrived to take her out for a walk last weekend, he had found her bent over her needlework, embroidering a sentimental slogan about the waters of the Danube and the lush green fields along its banks. She showed him her work proudly, although frankly, she had made quite a mess even though she was barely past the first word. Her mother was visibly annoyed by the whole thing, but what influence had Ruth Miles ever had over her daughter’s flights of fancy?

Harold smiled. Wanda! It was really something to watch her launch herself into her latest project, every single time.

Ever since Marie had left, she had been consumed by the idea of rediscovering her German roots. Wanda’s obsessions reminded him of some of his Wall Street colleagues, who were never happy with their profits and always wondered what would have happened if they had invested just a little more money, held onto their stocks just a little longer. Some of them couldn’t get such thoughts out of their heads and turned into virtual monomaniacs. Harold had long ago decided that although he enjoyed his job he never wanted to turn into one of them.

The latest bee in Wanda’s bonnet had given him one thing to be grateful for: there was no more talk of her finding a job. Rather she spent her days browsing in German shops and reading books about Germany. Whenever they met, she wanted to tell him all about what she had been reading, in German of course. The fact that he only spoke a phrase or two didn’t stop her at all. She offered to teach him German if he liked—it was her mother tongue after all, she said! Harold had refused as gracefully as he could.

He turned the glass of water around and around in his hands. He was looking forward to what might come next. If Wanda turned out to be just as enthusiastic about preparing for the wedding, and then keeping house afterward, there wouldn’t be much left of his salary at the end of every month despite his recent raise. Well never mind that! It was high time Wanda found her “mission in life”—she’d been looking for one for as long as he’d known her.

A quarter of an hour later he finally spotted Wanda’s distinctive blonde bob through the restaurant’s full-length glass doors as she got out of a cab. She was wearing a simple black outfit that showed the lines of her trim figure to full advantage.

“Harry, you simply cannot imagine what I’ve just heard!”

Before Harold could even rise to pull out her chair, she had plunked down into her seat.

Her appearance had not gone unnoticed by the other guests. Wanda’s effervescent manner made all heads turn as the diners looked up from their duck à l’orange, their truffled potatoes, and lobster bisque. The conversation at the next table suddenly seemed far more intriguing than whatever was on their plates.

“Do you have to make such a fuss?” Harold asked, fighting the wave of annoyance that washed over him. This was his evening. He wanted to be the one to set the tone!

“Just imagine: Marie’s gotten married!” Wanda blurted out.

“Married?” he squawked. Then he cleared his throat and began again, dropping his voice. “Who has she married? And how do you know?” What a stupid question! She had married Franco, of course.

“That was exactly how I reacted when Mother told me that Marie and Franco had just up and married,” Wanda said and passed a hand across her brow. Then she told him about the telephone call her mother had gotten from Johanna. Apparently Marie had decided that all she needed to do was send a telegram to Lauscha. There had been no further explanation, nor even any promise that she and her new husband would come and visit the family anytime soon. All she told them was that she planned to live and work in Genoa from then on.

As though Genoa were just next door! Harold thought that Marie had behaved scandalously.

“She’ll be living in a real palace with a view of the sea. Mother’s eyes almost popped out of her head when Johanna told her that part.”