“Vienna has changed overnight, Herr Knopf. We’re all still trying to find our footing.”
“We’ve found our footing quite well here.”
Something crossed Max’s face that Annika didn’t understand. Sadness or perhaps anger. “I suppose you have.”
Vati took a step back. “Tell your father that the platform in the chapel is close to completion.”
Annika didn’t contradict her father, but she doubted Herr Dornbach would think the platform was almost finished.
“And tell him that it’s most urgent I speak with him soon. I’ve found something of his...”
She waited for him to tell Max about the necklace, but he disappeared toward the rear of the castle. Max lifted a satchel off the backseat.
“Do you want me to help with your suitcase?” she asked.
“No,Kätzchen.” He looped the satchel’s strap over his shoulder before he slammed the trunk closed.
Annika sighed, wishing she owned a sequined dress like Luzia’s after all, so brilliant that Max couldn’t take his eyes off her. Perhapsthen he’d realize she had grown into a woman or at least a cat. Not a kitten that needed rescuing.
She may not be able to impress him with her clothing, but perhaps she could regain some of his admiration with her cooking. She’d saved enough schillings to buy the supplies forTafelspitz—ameal traditionally made with boiled beef. Max had stopped eating meat long ago, but she could make it from whatever vegetables she could obtain from the grocer.
“Are you hungry?” she asked as Max lifted the cage from the ground and stepped toward the castle.
“I suppose I am.”
“I’ll make you Tafelspitz for dinner.”
He eyed her curiously, as if surprised that she could cook.
“With parsnips and potatoes and—”
“Thank you,” he said, stopping her before she rattled off every ingredient in the meal.
“I’ll use whatever fresh vegetables the grocer has in stock.”
He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved several silver coins.
She shook her head. “I have the money, Max.”
“Schillings?”
“Of course.”
“You can no longer use your schillings in Austria,” he said sadly, holding out the coins again.
“But what will we use?”
“The grocer will need Reichsmarks.”
He dumped several coins into her open palm, and she stared down at the black-webbed swastikas looking back up at her. Perhaps the storm of this Third Reich was rolling into their lakes after all.
“Everything’s changing,” she whispered.
He turned back toward her before he climbed the steps to the front door. “Hitler’s changed much more than our money.”
“I don’t like it, Max.”
She’d hoped he would reassure her, say that she was being silly in her concerns, but he shook his head instead. “I don’t either.”
