button she pressed to illuminate the room, it was like a cave. The temperature varied little through the year, with its depth and massive brick walls.
She was glad the electricity worked today, although there were oil lamps nearby just in case. She saw instantly that the cement floor was dustier than it had ever been when there was a reason to come down here, when bottles filled the empty latticework or when the shelves were crowded with barrels of cooking material. Her mother had always ordered enough provisions to host a generous party at a moment’s notice.
She stopped to let the others appreciate just how safe her room was. “Look around you. See if any of you could find the entry to the room I’m offering.”
They all took the challenge, spreading out to various walls. She watched Edward poke and prod, Rosalie tap, Jan bend and stretch in search of some handle or crack that might lead to another room.
Edward faced her. “Very well, Isa. You’ve convinced us it isn’t easy to detect. That doesn’t mean a German search party with picks and sledgehammers won’t find it in a few moments if someone tips them off.”
“But who could? If only the four of us know about this room? And Henri, and I guarantee he won’t say a word.”
If Edward was amused, he gave no indication. “So where is it?”
Isa had his attention and wasn’t eager to lose it but moved toward the hidden door. “I don’t know the entire history of this room. I’m sure Henri knows. And my father knew about it.” She knelt, reaching beneath the lowest shelf, ignoring spiderwebs that might have given her pause had she not had such an important audience. She withdrew a long, sturdy rod that was undetectable without reaching under, then upward. “There were tools left behind that my father told me were diamond-cutting equipment. Evidently the former owner of this home was doing something he didn’t want anyone else to know about.”
Holding the rod steady, she stuck it through the latticework, scraping the brick at the back until finding the small hole into which the rod perfectly fit. Tilting it upward, she pushed until the barrier on the other side fell from its holding place. Then, after returning the rod to its hiding place, she pulled on the end of the shelf that served as a handle.
Even when Henri had first shown her and Charles the room—he’d decorated it to resemble an American West battle fort to surprise the children—she’d been able to push open this door once the iron bar was unlatched. She’d always thought it something of a miracle until Henri had shown her the latches and how they were counterbalanced.
The air was just as cool inside the room, and Isa found the switch plate to reveal its size. It wasn’t especially large but was perfectly square, with sturdy cardboard painted like the logs of a fort still tacked to one wall. Equipment left by the former owner was pushed off to the side—a tall, sturdy table held small hammers and Indian ink brushes and oil, dops and cast-iron disks. In another corner were the things her parents had given her and Charles when this was their hideaway. A tea set, a miniature boat Charles had built inside a bottle, a chair for reading when Isa grew older and Charles had abandoned the solitude of the room.
The interior walls were brick, even the back side of the door. She’d felt safe in here, where no one could hear her, where only books and games awaited. Unlike Charles, she’d always welcomed being alone.
Jan stepped off the room’s measurements, then reached for the ceiling to judge its height. He even knelt on the floor as if to judge the flatness. It was concrete and smooth.
“A press will fit,” he announced. “We don’t even have to prepare a foundation; this floor will serve. We won’t have to remove anything if we take the legs off that table and lean it up against the wall.” He looked squarely at Isa then, brows still level but excitement in his eyes. “I know you realize the risk, but I wonder if you realize how important this is to us. You probably haven’t any clue the trouble we’ve had finding printer after printer. This will save the paper.”
“I want to help,” Isa told him but was unable to keep her gaze from Edward for long.
If Jan was excited, Edward looked somber in the opposite extreme. Rosalie