and Ebbutt wandered off in search of another drink and Sigrid excused herself to hunt down a certain Nazi official whom she hoped would give her a quote for a story.
Just then, Mildred and Arvid spotted Martha coming their way on the arm of a tall man in his early forties with receding blond hair, shrewd blue eyes, and a mouth pursed in a contemplative frown. She introduced him as Hans Thomsen, an official who served as a liaison between the Chancellery and the Foreign Ministry. Thomsen’s eyebrows rose when he learned that Mildred was an American, an academic, and an expert in American literature. “I’m very interested in contemporary American authors,” he said, a faint Scandinavian accent coloring his English. “I’m especially curious to know which writers have the most influence with the American people.”
“You’ll have to ask her later,” said Martha, smiling as she linked her arm through Mildred’s. “I have to borrow Frau Harnack for a moment. In the meantime, Dr. Harnack is a brilliant economist, and if you ask nicely, I’m sure he’ll explain his plan for saving the German economy.”
Thomsen regarded Arvid with new interest. “Do you indeed have a plan, or is Miss Dodd giving me false hope?”
“I have a few ideas,” Arvid acknowledged.
“Then you could be just the man the Reich needs.”
“We’ll leave you to it.” As Martha led Mildred away, she added in an undertone, “Here’s hoping they become fast friends. With a word to the right person, Herr Thomsen could help Arvid get a job at the Economics Ministry.”
“I doubt they’ll hit it off,” murmured Mildred. “Thomsen’s a Nazi.”
“Yes, and very well placed. He and Hitler are quite close. It’ll be fine. Tommy’s not one of the fanatical ones. My father considers him relatively reasonable.”
“Not one of mine. He’s enamored with Elmina Rangabe, the Greek minister’s daughter.” Martha nodded toward the fireplace, where a beautiful dark-haired young woman in an emerald satin gown was holding court. “If you knew who I’m currently seeing, you’d never approve.”
“I do know, and I don’t approve. The chief of the Gestapo is—”
“Not Rudolf.” Martha waved a hand dismissively, but there was a note of regret in her voice. “That’s history. You know what they say, the hottest flames burn the swiftest, until only embers remain.” She fanned herself with her hand. “We’re still friends, though.”
“That’s fortunate, since he would be a very dangerous enemy. Who’s your new fellow?”
“Oh, no. You’re not getting that out of me. If my father knew—” Martha shook her head, then brightened as an enormous black-haired man burst into the ballroom and was met by a chorus of welcomes. He was well over six feet tall and looked to be around 250 pounds, and when he greeted his friends, his voice boomed like a baritone roll of thunder above the din of the party. “Oh, you have to meet Putzi Hanfstaengl.”
A memory stirred as Mildred looked from her friend to the giant and back. “Is he your—”
“Putzi? Oh, God, no.” Martha laughed. “Just a friend. But he’s loads of fun. Don’t let appearances deceive you. He’s a Harvard man, and was quite the star of the Hasty Pudding Club as a student. He plays piano and sings too.” She rose up on tiptoe and waved to the newcomer, who spotted her, beamed, and began making his way through the crowd to them. “In his student days he became good friends with Theodore Roosevelt Jr., a classmate, and he visited the White House often. Once he played the piano in the White House basement with such vigor that he broke seven strings.”
Suddenly Mildred remembered why his surname sounded familiar. “Is Putzi Hanfstaengl related to Ernst Hanfstaengl, the Nazi who gave Quentin such a hard time about his article?”
“One and the same. Putzi’s a nickname. He’s not just Hitler’s foreign press chief. They’re longtime friends, very close.” Martha said the last in a hurried whisper as the man reached them. There were greetings and introductions, and although the big man was charming and spoke at a more civilized volume at close range, by the time he was called away to meet other friends, Mildred felt quite overwhelmed. She was relieved when Martha left to circulate among her guests and she could return to Arvid, who had not, as it happened, become best pals with Hans Thomsen, although Thomsen had found his economic theories intriguing.
Some time later, Mildred and Arvid were chatting with a young couple who were