Axel, sitting cross-legged on the carpet with a half-eaten apple, froze, while Hilde dove under the table.
"Don't worry," I said, even though my heart jumped too. "It's just the hotel staff."
I opened the door carefully and nearly fainted. Two women stood there, each holding an armful of fabric swatches and measuring tapes around their necks. Behind them, a man waited with polished wooden boxes and a leather tool kit.
"Fräulein Weber?" one of the women asked. "Captain Griffin arranged fittings. Clothes for you and the children."
My jaw dropped. "I—he—what?"
"Shall we begin?" she asked with a professional smile.
Before I could protest, the three of them filed into the suite and transformed it into something between a boutique and a miracle. Within an hour, both boys had several pairs of trousers and shirts, and a pair of sturdy shoes each. Hilde had two dresses that made her twirl and clap her hands, as well as shoes. And I… I had dresses. So many, I didn't know how I would ever wear them. Whenever I tried to protest, the ladies told me this was at theCaptain's ordersand that they wouldn't do their job if they listened to me.
When the seamstress fastened the last button, I nearly burst into tears. And Gideon wasn't even here.
I thought that was the end of it. But I was wrong, not even an hour later, another knock came. Two hotel staff members wheeled in books,a whole stack of them, then toys. Puzzles, games, a doll and dollhouse. And…
A train set.
An entire metal train with tracks and switches and a little station house that lit up. Little people who stood, miniature trees, cars…
Klaus froze mid-step. Axel's jaw dropped. Hilde made a noise I didn't know children could make, half squeal, half gasp, full of wonder.
"For us?" Klaus whispered.
"Yes," I said softly. "For you."
They didn't move at first, as if afraid it would vanish. Then Axel whispered, "This is better than Christmas," and they descended on the train set like tiny engineers possessed by joy. Their laughter filled the suite. Pure. Bright. Unbroken by hunger.
I allowed myself to simplywatchthem be children.
Food kept coming too.
Plates of warm rolls. Cold meats. Jars of preserves. Cakes left discreetly by the staff. Hot soup. Fresh fruit. Someone knocked again with pastries. Then someone else with a tray of milk bottles.
I didn't understand any of it.
All I knew was that every minute felt like another piece of the future I never dared to imagine. I had no idea how Gideon could afford any of this, but I had to trust him. He hadn't let me down yet, and I had promised myself I would enjoy this. No matter what followed, this was just a time to be happy.
By early evening, the kids were full and pink-cheeked, the suite warm with lamps and steam from the kettle the kitchen kept bringing up. I wanted everything perfect for when Gideon camehome.
I arranged the dining table the way I remembered my mother doing, carefully placing silverware and unfolding cloth napkins. I smoothed the tablecloth a dozen times. I adjusted a chair. Lit the little candle in the center.
Then I found the bellboy on his way down the hall. When he looked up, I pressed two of Gideon's cigarettes into his palm.
"Please… when Captain Griffin returns, tell the kitchen immediately. I want them to bring dinner up fresh and hot." I leaned closer. "And don't tell him I bribed you."
The boy smiled sheepishly. "Yes, Fräulein."
I exhaled.
Now all I could do was wait.
More hours passed. I felt disoriented. I didn't know what to do with this happiness or with myself when I had nothing to do or worry about. It was a strange new world for me. The children napped, woke, played with the train, and napped again. I looked at the books, started reading one, then another when I couldn't remember a word I had read.
I kept glancing at the door every few minutes. Every sound in the hallway made my heart race. Then finally—finally—a knock. Followed by a familiar voice. "Inga?"
I nearly flew to the door. When I opened it, there he was. Windblown from the tarmac. His uniform was rumpled in places, his hair a mess. Exhaustion poured from every line of his body.
