hesitated. “Something else came out at the meeting, though, and it’s been troubling me ever since Arvid mentioned it.”
Steeling herself, Greta adjusted Ule’s blanket, tucking it more snugly around him. “And that is?”
“At the meeting, Göring announced that he had just received a letter written at Hitler’s command, requesting that ‘the Jewish question be now, once and for all, coordinated and solved one way or another.’”
“The Jewish question?” echoed Greta. “What’s that supposed to mean? Coordinated and solved how?”
“That,” said Mildred, “is what keeps me up at night.”
Greta inhaled deeply and let out a long, shaky breath. Whatever it was, it meant suffering and death, she was sure of it.
The next time Greta and Mildred met was on the morning the news broke in the German papers that in protest to the pogroms, the United States had recalled its ambassador to Germany. Only a small staff, including Donald Heath, would remain behind to monitor American interests in Berlin. In response, Germany promptly withdrew its ambassador to the United States.
For years the resistance had hoped the United States and the nations of Europe would shake off their isolationist lethargy and join the fight to defeat fascism in Germany. Now they could only watch in dismay as one by one, potential allies withdrew from their country, leaving the resistance to struggle on alone.
Chapter Forty-three
November 1938–April 1939
Sara
After Mildred told Sara that Jews might be forced from their homes to make room for Aryans displaced by Albert Speer’s construction projects, Sara and Natan urged their parents to put their home up for sale before it was taken from them. “Get every mark you can for this place while you have the chance,” said Natan. “You know if the Nazis seize it they’ll give you nothing in return.”
“But this is our home,” their mother protested. “You children grew up here. We built our lives here.”
“We’re planning to emigrate anyway,” Sara said. “If we move out now, we’ll be ready to leave the moment our visas come through.”
“If they come through,” her mother countered, but eventually Sara and Natan convinced their parents to put their home on the market. Their father reminded them that moving the proceeds from the sale out of Germany would be a formidable challenge, but they would worry about that later.
A few people toured the house soon after it went up for sale, but they were more curious than serious, and made no offers. Then, in the middle of October, a couple in their late thirties came for a showing, first just the two of them, and then again with their three young children. On a third visit, the Wagners made an offer—reasonable, yet far less than Sara’s parents would have considered were they not so eager to sell, especially since the purchase included most of the furniture.
As if worried the low bid would insult them, the Wagners hastily, apologetically explained their circumstances. Although they had both lived in Germany for nearly twenty years, by birth he was Austrian and his wife was Polish. Their current home was in a predominantly immigrant neighborhood with many other Poles, but given the recent disagreement between their two countries, it seemed prudent, for the sake of their children, not to draw too much attention to their Polish heritage, and to move as soon as possible.
“Earlier this year, my wife inherited a sizable trust from her late grandmother,” Herr Wagner said, reaching for his wife’s hand. “We could write you a cheque today for the entire amount, but the trust is held in a bank in Kraków, and we would be obliged to pay you in złoty.”
“Usually most people turn us down at this point,” said Frau Wagner with an anxious, self-deprecating smile.
Sara’s father mulled it over. “As long as your bank confirms that the funds are available, I see no reason why the location of your trust should be an issue.”
In the week that followed, Sara’s parents and the Wagners haggled briefly over the price but soon reached an agreement. As Sara’s parents waited for the Kraków bank to confirm that Frau Wagner’s trust held sufficient funds, Wilhelm set up an account in his father-in-law’s name with a bank in Geneva. After the Wagners’ payment went through, Herr Wagner and Sara’s father signed the paperwork, shook hands, and congratulated one another on a good deal fairly struck. The sale was complete, the income safe in a Swiss bank a short drive from Amalie and Wilhelm’s chateau. Now all the Weitzes had to do was get