gave him the brief, cheerful version of her Madison story, taking care not to sound too wistful or homesick, mindful of the other guests standing nearby, eagerly anticipating a taste of the hot drink.
Soon Felix traded the long-handled spoon for a sturdy pair of tongs, grasped a sugar cone in the pincers, and held it above the kettle. With his free hand, he slowly poured rum over the Zuckerhut and waited for the liquor to soak into the fine, compressed sugar. “Greta,” he said, tilting his head to indicate a basket of wooden skewers on the floor nearby, “would you do the honors?”
Greta took a skewer from the basket, held the tip into the flames, and raised the burning end to the Zuckerhut, setting it afire. The people nearby murmured appreciation as the bluish flame danced across the sugar cone and caramelized the sugar, which dripped into the steaming punch below. When the flame threatened to flicker out, Felix poured more rum over the Zuckerhut until the bottle was empty and the sugar melted away. With a sigh of anticipated pleasure, the guests pressed forward with cups as Felix picked up the ladle and began to serve.
Cradling her mug in her hands, glowing from the warmth of the fire and the wine and rum, Greta listened as her companions shared hopes and plans for the New Year. She raised her cup and chimed in fervently whenever someone offered a toast to a better, more prosperous, and more peaceful year ahead.
Eventually Felix relinquished his duties as master of the punch, passed the ladle on, and drew Greta aside into a quieter room. “How have things been for you since you returned from Germany?”
The usual bland assurances sprang to mind, but before she could speak, his expression told her that he already suspected the truth. “Not well,” she confessed. “I tried to get into a university, any university, either as teacher or student, but I failed. I’ve been patching together some work, teaching and editing, mostly.” She forced a laugh. “Maybe I should have gone to law school instead, like you.”
“Kerstin told me that you worked at a theater, organizing a script library.”
“Yes. I quite enjoyed that job too, while it lasted.”
“I have a proposition for you, but promise me you won’t decline until you think it over.”
Greta shrugged and drained the last of her punch. “I promise.”
“In spring, I’m being transferred to our firm’s offices in Zurich. Julia loves Switzerland and we’re both very pleased, but—” He shook his head. “Setting up a new household is daunting, and I’ll be busy with my cases.”
“Of course,” said Greta, curious how she fit in.
“I wondered if you would consider coming along. I have a large private library that will need to be unpacked and organized, and I’d also like the girls to learn English. You’ll have a salary, of course, and a large private suite where you can write undisturbed, and we’ll insist that you consider yourself a member of the family.”
“It’s—that’s very generous, but I—I don’t know.”
“The house is lovely,” he added earnestly, “and my daughters are sweet and good. I know all parents think their children are wonderful, but in our case, it’s true. You’d adore them.”
Greta smiled. “I’m sure I would.”
“Please tell me you’ll think about it. We desperately need the help, and I can’t think of anyone who would be better company than you.”
Flattered, Greta agreed, more hopeful than she had been since the ill-fated Internationaler Theaterkongresse. She loved to travel, she needed steady work, she was tired of her cramped rented room, and she longed for the peace of mind that came from knowing where her next meal was coming from. A change of scene would give her a new perspective, help her choose a new direction for her aimless life. And it would also be a relief to put a few hundred kilometers between herself and Adam.
As the New Year unfolded, cold, grim, and blustery, Greta mulled over Felix’s offer. Her list of the job’s advantages grew as the weeks passed, but she worried that if she went abroad without first establishing herself solidly in the Berlin theater, upon her return she would have to start all over again, making contacts, establishing her credentials, proving herself anew. Perhaps she would not be gone long enough to be forgotten and it would not matter. Perhaps the economy would improve while she was away, and she would return to an abundance of opportunities. She feared it was far more