one side and windows overlooking the terrace on the other. A small alcove curved out in one corner with a small round table for more intimate seating.
Settling into the corner chair a waiter held for her, Kat found herself across from Eric and Ellie, with Hitler’s personal architect, Albert Speer, to her immediate right at the foot of the table. Despite their awkwardness, relief spilled through her when Barrett slipped into the seat on her left. Thankfully, Hitler didn’t follow the English tradition of separating couples around the table to promote better conversation. Beyond the mounting atrocities and lack of nourishing food for the ordinary citizens, she had no clue what she’d converse with these people about. She couldn’t even find momentary delight at the banquet spilling before her. A centerpiece of braised lamb on a silver platter sat in the middle surrounded by porcelain bowls of roasted bell peppers, rice, spätzle drowning in brown gravy, asparagus, tomatoes and squash, mashed golden potatoes, grilled sausage, sweet mustard, cabbage rolls, and brochen with creamed butter.
Though her insides screamed with protest, Kat took a small sampling of the foods closest to her plate. Pressing her fork into the top of her mashed potatoes, she carved out a hole for the gravy to pool in just as she had when she was kid. Across the table, Ellie did the same thing with her dumpling. Catching her eye, Kat smiled at their secret. The corners of Ellie’s mouth twitched as if they wanted to return the grin but quickly flattened as she looked back down at her plate. Sadness pinched Kat’s heart. What had she done?
The answer pulled her gaze to Eric, who fairly glowed with delight. Her pain was his privilege to witness as he shoveled food into his eager mouth. “Are you enjoying your evening, Kathleen?”
“Very much. I only wish our stay was longer.” She picked up a forkful of the potatoes and forced it past her teeth.
“Are you going somewhere?”
The potatoes slid down into the sourness of her stomach. “I mean when we have to return to Paris in a few days. I will miss Bavaria.”
Coolness glinted in his tone without a hint of surprise. “Is that true? Here I was thinking it didn’t suit your tastes.”
“On the contrary, I find the scenery breathtaking and the peacefulness refreshing after the bustle of Paris. In fact,” she said, forking a sausage against the roiling of her stomach, “I was hoping Ellie and I could take a weekend in the Alps. We used to visit the lodges there with our parents, didn’t we, Ellie?”
Next to her, Barrett set his wineglass down with a loud clink. His foot pressed down on top of hers in warning. She slipped it away and crossed her legs. If Eric wanted to play cat and mouse, then she’d beat him to it. Barrett could yell at her later.
“Remember the year we built an entire family of snow people?”
Ellie nodded, moving her fork around the dumpling. “Mother was furious we used her fur boots and cashmere shawl for decoration.”
“The Alps. In Switzerland.” Fair eyebrows lifted on Eric’s brow. Ellie dragged a plate of cabbage rolls closer and hovered her fork over the offering as she decided which one to spear. Reaching across her, Eric pushed the plate away. “No, schatz. The odor clings no matter how many times you brush your teeth.”
Grabbing her glass, Ellie drained the potent contents and signaled the waiter behind her for a refill, all while glaring at Eric, who munched contentedly on a crusty roll. Kat gripped the underside of her chair to keep from vaulting over the table and cramming it down his throat until he choked.
Brushing the crumbs from his mouth, Eric leaned back in his chair and sipped his wine. Reflecting the ruby liquid, his eyes dimmed to black as he stared at Kat over the rim. Kat’s fingernails curled farther into her chair until she felt a tiny pop as the fabric tore.
“As this trip has been mostly business, I think a true holiday is in order.” Eric rotated a finger around the stem of his glass. With each pass, Kat could almost feel his invisible finger circling around her throat. “Once we’ve arrived in Switzerland—”
An explosion from the opposite end of the table silenced the room. Hitler’s fist lay beside his plate, his vegetables overturned from where he’d pounded the table. Pale faces turned in horror to Henriette, who sat motionless, eyes wide with fear, shrinking into her seat.