“Jamaica is a short getaway before the season starts,” he replies.
“Then you’ll head back to Germany?” I say casually, but the Greenbergers seem surprised by my question.
“Hannah and I left Germany some time ago,” Mr. Greenberger quickly adds. “After our vacation, we’re off to New York. I’m an assistant conductor with the Philharmonic.”
“My husband makes it seem like leaving Germany was our choice. We were exiled because we’re Jewish.”
Anne Spencer shakes her head. “With Hitler and Mussolini in power, I am truly afraid of what’s happening in the world.”
“Mussolini?” Othella speaks for the first time. I’ve noticed how reserved she and Robbie have been—maybe they have had a disagreement. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who he is.”
“A fascist ally of Hitler,” Mr. Greenberger retorts sharply.
“I’ve heard that more discriminatory laws may take effect in Germany as soon as this month,” Anne Spencer remarks.
Othella scans the table, waiting for someone else to pose the question, but her impatience grows. “What are these laws?”
“German Jews will lose their citizenship and be classified as state subjects without any rights,” Anne Spencer says soberly.
“We might never go back to Germany,” Mrs. Greenberger states, her voice wavering slightly.
“Now, don’t even say or think that, dear,” her husband says. “We’ll return one day.”
She touches a napkin to her lips. “Some of Erich’s relatives are in New York, and my husband has a fantastic opportunity with the Philharmonic. We’ll ride out the craziness for a year or two, but I feel sad that our child won’t be born at home in Berlin.”
“You’re pregnant?” I ask, ignoring the pain in my chest.
“Yes, I’m a couple of months along.” She smiles at her husband. “But I’m fine to travel—and I’m eager to return home to Germany as soon as possible. My parents and cousins live in Berlin.”
An awkward silence settles over our dinner table like a cloud. Tully breaks the silence. “Roosevelt is doing the right things for America now.”
“You’re right. Roosevelt’s New Deal is starting off strong and could make all the difference,” Anne Spencer stresses. “We might get out of this Depression sooner rather than later.”
“How does he feel about entering a world war?” asks Mr. Greenberger. “Will he ignore what’s happening in Europe? Or in Italy with Mussolini?”
“What about if the Fascists invade Ethiopia?” Anne Spencer weighs in. “It is one of the shining lights of African civilization and he’s set his sights on it.”
“We should change the subject before our meal is ruined,” Tully suggests.
The table guests nod in unison and the conversation takes a turn. “Miss Dunham, perhaps you might consider a dance performance?” Mr. Greenberger proposes. “I play the piano superbly, if I say so myself, and my wife is an exceptional violinist. Based on what Miss Spencer has said, we would be honored to accompany you for a recital. And I’m sure the commander would concur.”
“If he agrees, I’d love to,” Katherine replies, mindful of the ship’s rules. “And Vivian Jean, will you join me? We can perform the duet we prepared for the World’s Fair.”
“Will you ever forgive me for missing that performance?”
Katherine scrunches her nose and smiles. “No.”
Everyone laughs, but I know Katherine has spoken from the heart. “Then maybe I should miss this one, too.”
“Touché,” Katherine replies. “Touché.”
It’s a bright, sun-filled afternoon. Katherine and I are on the Promenade Deck, lounging in steamer chairs, sipping tea, and readingVoguemagazine and theChicago Defender. Katherine had taken a copy from a Pullman porter, and I picked up theJamaica Gleanerfrom the ship’s library.
“Have you ever had to beg for food?” I ask Katherine after an hour with my nose buried in theGleaner. “Or waited in a soup line, or had to stoke a stove?”
She closes her magazine. “Definitely not.”
“Me neither. Maxi handles everything. Cooks my meals, makes the beds, cleans the floors, does the laundry.”
