and flowers gave the library a familiar, welcoming atmosphere, beckoning Martha to choose a book and settle down for a long, indulgent read far from the cares of the outside world.
Lastly Fritz took them to the Wintergarten, a glass-enclosed sunroom on the south end of the main floor that opened onto a terrace overlooking the garden. “Frau Panofsky would insist that you take refreshments before you go,” he said, and when they demurred, reluctant to impose, he bowed silently and departed. He soon returned with coffee and cake, which he served to them at a wrought-iron table on the terrace. With another slight bow, he left them.
“Here’s to Dad,” Martha said, raising her teacup in a toast. “I’m sorry I doubted him.”
“This is really quite a place,” said Bill, enjoying a hearty bite of cake. “And this cake is marvelous.”
“You’ll be pleased to know that the cook and the rest of the staff will remain,” their mother said, pursing her lips as she gazed out at the verdant garden. “Mr. Panofsky was most insistent that they be allowed to stay, and your father was happy to agree.”
Martha studied her. “That’s a rather sad face for such good news.”
“I only wonder why the Panofskys are charging us so little for so much. How could they part with such a beautiful home and everything in it?”
“Maybe they’re going abroad for a while but intend to return,” said Martha. “Maybe they’re tired of these beautiful things and want to buy new ones. Maybe they’re extraordinarily wealthy—”
“Or extraordinarily desperate,” Bill broke in. “If the Panofskys are Jewish, they may be preparing to flee Germany.”
“Surely not.” Martha gestured from the garden to the beautiful house. “Herr Panofsky clearly has money, and money equals power and influence no matter who runs the government.”
“Not in Germany, not if you’re a Jew.” Bill leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Money, power, prestige—they offer scant protection now. A rich Jew is subject to the Aryan Laws as much as a poor Jew. The only exception is for veterans of the Great War and their immediate families, and who knows how long those provisions will last.”
Martha raised her eyebrows at her brother. “What a grim appraisal.”
“Grim but accurate. About fifty thousand Jews have left Germany since Hitler took over as chancellor. Others probably would too, if they could afford it and if they had somewhere to go.”
“I hope you’re wrong,” said their mother. “This home is lovely, but I don’t want to benefit from someone else’s misfortune.”
That evening over dinner, their father confirmed some of what Bill had surmised. The Panofskys were Jews, but as far as he knew, the family did not intend to leave Germany. “They aren’t even leaving the house,” he said. “Mr. Panofsky’s wife and two children have gone to the countryside, but he and his mother are staying. They’re keeping the entire fourth floor and use of the elevator for themselves.”
“I imagine it would be difficult to retreat to the attic while strangers enjoy your luxurious home,” said Martha’s mother, concern clouding her expression.
“Herr Panofsky must think it will suit them,” said Martha’s father. “Perhaps he and his mother intend to join the rest of the family in the countryside soon.”
When the Dodds moved in a few days later, they discovered beautiful floral arrangements throughout the house and a gracious letter from Herr Panofsky welcoming the family to his home, which he hoped they would consider their own for as long as they remained in Berlin. He expressed his admiration for America and encouraged them to come to him if they had any questions about Berlin or needed any recommendations for businesses and services.
“It seems our landlord enjoys the novelty of hosting the American ambassador’s family,” Martha’s father remarked after he finished reading the letter aloud.
“Perhaps that accounts for the low rent and their attic quarters,” Martha mused. Her father smiled, and her mother admitted that she made a fair point, but Bill merely shook his head, unconvinced.
A week after the Dodds moved into Tiergartenstrasse 27a, they decided to take a road trip to see more of the country. They planned to drive south from Berlin to Leipzig, where Martha’s parents would linger for a few days so her father could visit his favorite old haunts from his graduate student days. Meanwhile, Martha and Bill would continue on all the way to Austria.
As they were planning their route and debating what sights to see, Bill asked if he might bring a friend along. “Fine by