“Never mind.” Now I’m starting to see Burgosovs everywhere. “She probably heard you talk about Poland and wanted news. Now, about the trunk?”
“I argue with Adalbert. He decides we take dress home. He trying to contact Kolodenkos, but we not find them. For you, he wants no trouble.”
“But what if you can’t take the dress back? This war has already lasted longer than we thought it would.”
Elsie was quiet for a moment. “You correct speaking. I teach you, in case. Are you knowing there is special wash for dress? Is powder made of lavender and poppy. Special from the high meadow. ”
Kate smiled. A warm memory surfaced of Babcia washing her delicates in the bathtub, and the flowery scent of lavender lingering in the room after she left. “Babcia made her own laundry soap like that.”
Elsie lifted her hands heavenward. “Finally. Something my sister teach you.” Elsie’s look lowered to the amber necklace still around Kate’s neck.
This time, Kate didn’t feel the need to hide it.
“Dress is fully returned.”
“To Poland?” Kate asked, confused. “Or do you mean in your trunk?”
“Yes, in trunk,” said Elsie defensively. “I am good Keeper.”
Kate wandered to the next window. “You could show it to me when I bring you home.” She didn’t want to push Elsie, but she was curious to see what it looked like, and worried for its safety.
Elsie’s smile faded. “If dress goes back to Kolodenkos instead of Keeper, is best you no see it.” She crossed her arms. “Giving dress is difficult. I thinking best if you see dress, is because you are new Keeper. ”
Kate stared blankly at an arrangement of men’s ties. She needed to convince Elsie she was ready for the responsibility. When she first heard of the dress, she was unsure, because it was a new idea for her. But now that she was used to it, and Elsie’s mind was wont to confusion, well, it was time for the next generation to take over. Soon.
“We all have purpose,” said Elsie. “Thanks because of me, yours is to right a wrong.”
Kate’s thoughts snapped back to the sidewalk. “Pardon me?”
“Oh, look at pretty window,” said Elsie, changing the subject in that scatterbrained way of hers. “Is so beautiful. Like a painting.”
She pulled Kate in front of Delman’s shoe store, where a ballet-themed window displayed shoes. There was a painted backdrop of dancers, roses, and cupids. A large ribbon read, “Dedicated to Alicia Alonzo, whose Cuban fire illumines contemporary ballet.” Alicia Alonzo was a partially blind ballet dancer. Josie even had her picture in her scrapbook. Women’s dress shoes were aligned along the floor and up the sides of the display. Twelve, thirteen, fourteen pairs. She smiled.
“Johnny tells me that I could learn from these windows.”
“Who is Johnny?” asked Aunt Elsie with interest. “You keep saying his name.”
Kate felt her face blush. She hadn’t meant to keep talking about him. “He’s the boy we ate lunch with yesterday. He works the display windows at Harmon-Craig. Remember? Since he is going off to war, I get to help some with the displays.”
“Oh,” she said, grinning. “Handsome boy.”
“Aunt Elsie! I don’t need a matchmaker.”
Elsie looked hurt, so Kate softened her words by adding, “At least, not yet.”
They moved on to the next window where Elsie leaned in to study a handbag in a display. “So, Johnny is gone now?”
“Yes. He said I could write him to ask about the job, though. In case he left out something he needed to tell me.”
Slowly, Elsie’s face displayed a knowing look. “He wants you writing him?”
“Sure, about work.”
Elsie shook her head. “No young man asks young lady to write him letters about work.”
Kate stopped walking. She opened her mouth but quickly closed it again and tried to hold back a smile. Now that she’d gotten to know him a little, she didn’t think he was so obnoxious. A bit of a tease is all. And he was handsome. Did he expect her to spritz perfume on her letters or send him her picture? But if she did, and he didn’t feel the same way, he’d have another thing to rib her about. How was she to know for sure?
Chapter Fourteen
Sparky,
Hey, remember me? I’m the one whose job you keep trying to take? Just wondering how things are at Harmon-Craig. Mr. G isn’t the writing kind. I hope he is being nice to you. You’ve got good ideas. Well, I better go. They keep us busy around here.
Johnny
P.S. What’s your favorite color?
Dear Floyd,
You were right about Josie and me. Our moms were on the night shift, and Josie talked me into going down early to get in line for the Sinatra concert at the Paramount. But wouldn’t you know it? Every other girl in New York decided to do the same thing. We waited there for hours but didn’t even get in. Some of the girls got a little crazy—but not us. We hightailed it out of there and went to the Automat for a snack instead.
-Kate, your bobby-soxer sister
Dear Johnny,
I’d be happy to keep you posted on things at work. Of course, I’m in school most of the time, but I do come in on Tuesday afternoons to get Daphne and all the other manikins dressed for the window. I wish I could stay longer to help with the rest of window night, but Mr. G won’t let me. YET.
This week’s window displays the new winter coat collection. Not much to report there, as Mr. G did a simple design. He is using up all his creativity on the upcoming Christmas displays. Did you know he uses ground glass for the snow?
I told my mom about the special high school, but she said no. Thought I should concentrate on learning the basics. So I’m taking your other bit of advice and studying windows on my own.
My brother says that basic training has been really tough. How are you managing? Is there anything else you’d like to know about? I enjoy writing letters and will entertain you as best I can.
Your friend,
Kate
P.S. Periwinkle. What’s your favorite movie? I like one from a few years ago called The Shop Around the Corner. You know, the one where they write letters to each other?
Sparky,
Did you like that snow trick? I think he also mixes in salt to make it sparkle. Keep taking notes. Mr. G is one of the best.
Your brother is right, basic training is hard work. But we are all in great shape now. I’ve been transferred to another base. They loaded a bunch of us guys up on buses the other night. We had no idea what was going on. Turns out we all have eye problems, so they don’t plan to put us through the complete training. I didn’t know it, but I am amblyopic. That means I have a wandering eye, also called lazy eye. Did you ever notice how my right eye sometimes drifts off on its own? Not sure what that means for my future in the army. But they haven’t kicked me out, and they’ve fitted me up with some swell glasses.
Please keep the letters coming. It’s downright depressing not to get anything when the mail is called. I’ve included a sketch of the barracks. Hope you like it. My bunk is the one on the right. The piece of paper on my pillow is your last letter.
-Johnny
P.S. The Maltese Falcon. What do you like to do for fun?
Dear Floyd,
I knitted these mittens all by myself. There’s a little hole near the thumb. Sorry, that was a tricky spot. I made another pair, and they turned out great, but I’ve sent them off to another soldier. (You, being my brother, would understand a tiny hole, right?)
I guess you aren’t coming home for Christmas this year. I’ll try to make at least one of your favorites. We’ll pretend you are home and have a grand time of it.
-Chef Kate
Dear Kate,
I’m writing the ladies in my life today to wish them a Happy Valentine’s Day. All the boys here are writing their girlfriends. I’ll probably still write Mary, though I haven’t heard from her in weeks. Has she stopped by to see you lately? No matter, we are set to go
out this weekend to a dance. I’m sure I’ll have a sugar report for you later. Plenty of other dolls to choose from.
Oh, and did you know what a smart brother you have? Tops in my class in instruments. I only wished we could get a move on. I didn’t realize how much training we have to go through before we’re ready. I’ve got months to go yet. I guess that makes Mom happy.
Love,
Your A-PLUS brother, Floyd
P.S. Enjoy the Wrigley’s. Sometimes being a soldier has its perks.
Sparky,
Happy Valentine’s Day. Thanks for all your letters. You write almost as much as my mom does. I keep your letters in the box of cookies you sent (the cookies disappeared in two days). I’ll treat you to a malt when I get home, how’s that?
You wouldn’t believe what they have me doing now. I’m painting eyes for the army. One of the colonels got hold of a sketch I drew, and he put me in for the medical art studio. Never knew there was such a thing. Well, I get to draw all sorts of medical procedures to show doctors how to do skin grafts on the soldiers. Today I started painting eyeballs. Tomorrow I may try my hand at prosthetic ears. Not exactly what I thought working for Uncle Sam would be, but I like it. Looks like I’m staying stateside, helping repair the hurt soldiers.
-Johnny
P.S. Drawing, of course! Here are some sketches I’ve done recently (not the medical ones!). If you could go anywhere in the world (no war), where would it be? I think I’d choose Egypt to see the pyramids.
Dear Floyd,
I can’t believe President Roosevelt died today. He’s the only president I’ve ever known. It’ll be strange having someone else as president.
Did I tell you Josie got the part of Dorothy for the school play? I’m helping make the scenery. Be glad you are missing out. She sings everywhere she goes.
Mom’s tired from all the factory work, but the money has been better. I feel like we’re rolling in it, but there’s nothing to buy. She’s talking about apartment hunting. But I can tell her heart’s not in it.
Love,
Your sister, the set painter
To the Allen Troops:
I’m sure you’ve been following all the good news lately. It shouldn’t be too much longer, now. But on the “other news” front, looks like my job will continue a bit longer. It’s going to turn into a treasure hunt. You wouldn’t believe the things that have been stolen and hidden away.
Can you handle a few more months of me being gone? When we make the switch, it won’t be dangerous work, so you won’t have to worry. It’ll be as safe as me going to the college to teach. This is a unique opportunity for me. I don’t want to miss out. I can probably come home for a visit before heading out again. Will that only make it worse, or do you want to see me?
Kate, I’ve been looking for a copy of the Cinderella story you wanted but haven’t found one. Of course, I’m not in the best region to find it. Perhaps when the Allies are in complete control, I’ll be able to travel elsewhere and find it for you.
Love,
Dad
Dear Johnny,
I’m crying as I write this. VE day! Can you believe it? Victory in Europe. I like the sound of it. Good-bye, Hitler. So long, Nazis. I bet all you boys are celebrating. Well, this was a quick note because I’ve got to go out. Josie has plans to go to Times Square and find a soldier to kiss. Don’t worry about me. I’m waiting for the right soldier to come home.
-Kate
Chapter Fifteen
“Mom, what’s happening to Aunt Elsie?” Kate sat still as Mom trimmed her hair.
“She’s old. Her mind is deteriorating.” Mom pulled at Kate’s hair, checking to see if the ends were even.
“But Uncle Adalbert is old, too, and the girls at the store say his mind is as sharp as his sewing needle. They’re going to miss having him around now that he is staying home with her.”
Mom sighed. “Who knows why it happens to some and not others.”
“At least she seems happy. She remembers a lot of the good times.”
“But Adalbert? Does she remember him?” She put down the scissors. “You’re done.”
Kate frowned. “Mostly, but during the times she doesn’t, it hurts him. I can tell.”
“I’m glad you go over there, Kate. I couldn’t handle it.” She looked away. “Not after watching your grandmother…” She trailed off, ending another conversation before it began.
There was a firm knock on the apartment door, and when Mom opened it, two official-looking men filled the doorway. Both wore dark suits with overcoats. One was tall with a crew cut, reddish-blond mustache, and horn-rimmed glasses. The other stood a foot shorter with thick, dark hair, and a rather large nose.
The tall one held up a badge. “I’m Agent Gillespie with the FBI. This is my partner Bristow. Is there a…” He consulted his notebook before continuing, “Adalbert and Elsie Oberlin in residence here?”
“No, they moved out years ago.”
Oh, Mother! She forgot how the Oberlins wanted them to respond if anyone came looking for them. How did they know these men were FBI? Besides, why would the FBI go looking for an old Polish couple?
The two men looked at each other. The shorter, Bristow, nodded to Gillespie. Gillespie spoke again. “This was their last address we have on record. Do you have their current address?”
“What is this about?”
Good, Mom. Don’t tell them anything.
“We are looking into the activities of a group known as the ERR, the Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg. They were a group operating under Hitler’s orders to steal valuable artwork in Europe. May we come in and ask you a few questions?”
Mom looked back at Kate, her eyebrows raised. “Why, yes, come in.” She stepped to the side and gestured to the sofa. “But I don’t know how we can help you.”
The agents took seats in the living room. Dad’s paintings immediately caught Gillespie’s attention. He pointed his pen at the Rembrandt print. “Who’s the art lover in the family?”
“My husband is an art historian. Those are his favorites. In fact, I suspect he is doing work similar to yours, over in Europe.”
Gillespie studied the room before starting in with his questions. While he did all the talking, the shorter man took notes in a black notebook he pulled from his pocket.
“Mrs. Allen, when did Adalbert and Elsie Oberlin arrive at your apartment?”
Mom sat in the chair facing the agents. From Kate’s position in the kitchen, she could observe without being noticed.
“Sometime in the spring of 1944. I don’t remember the exact day.”
“How did they seem when they arrived?”
“What do you mean? They were tired. They had been through an ordeal.” She again glanced at Kate. “What are you hinting at?”
“We are working with a number of international agencies to tie up some loose ends from wartime crimes, specifically the plundering of paintings.”
“Stolen paintings?” cried Mom. “Don’t be absurd. My aunt and uncle are as honest as they come.”
Gillespie nodded. “Then they have nothing to worry about, ma’am. Their travels through Europe have been traced from Poland to Italy through Switzerland and into France, doubling back to India. A suspicious pattern that we have to check into.”
Kate held her breath, trying to keep her face emotionless. Thieves? Back when her aunt and uncle first moved here, she had pretended they were spies, like in the movies. But that was only her wild imagination. This was real.
Mom looked worried. She pulled out her handkerchief and slowly twisted it around and around her index finger.
“What did they have with them when they arrived? Any bags? Luggage?”
Mom nodded. “They had a really unusual steamer trunk. It was very old. Antique, probably.”
The agents gave each other a look, which made Kate’s spine tingle. The Kolodenko trunk. Aunt Elsie said she worked for the Kolodenkos, but what if she actually stole from them, and the trunk was
part of the missing art? But Elsie explained why they traveled so much before coming to America. She said they were delivering little packages. Jewish children. Not paintings.
“And did you see what was in this trunk?”
“No, they brought it into their room when they moved in. They stayed with us for a few weeks until they could get a place of their own.” Mom leaned closer to Gillespie. “They’re not in any trouble, are they? We don’t know them very well, and we certainly don’t know of any illegal activity.”
Gillespie smiled. “No one is in any trouble here, ma’am. Like I said, we’re following up on some loose ends. As you can imagine, in wartime lots of illegal activity can be carried out and is hard to track. People seem to lose their consciences. Anything goes.”
Kate couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “They didn’t do anything wrong,” she blurted out. Thanks to me, your purpose is to right a wrong. That’s what Elsie had told her the day they went out looking at window displays. Kate pushed that thought away. Elsie never did quite make sense.
“Besides, America was so late in forming refugee camps, we should be apologizing to people like them. At least they lived. And now you want to hound them about what they managed to scrape together to bring here? They couldn’t fit a painting into that trunk.”
Gillespie turned to Kate. “And your name is?”
“Kate.” She swallowed hard, surprised she had spoken so boldly. Then she remembered one of her first conversations with Aunt Elsie about what war was like. She told of neighbor turning on neighbor and people not knowing who to trust. Kate wasn’t going to turn on her aunt and uncle. They were innocent. They had to be.
“They are the kindest, most honest people I know.” She stepped farther into the room. “They would never do anything illegal. Besides, they’re Polish. They couldn’t work for Hitler! That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe not,” he said. “But don’t you think they would help their Jewish friends who were being imprisoned without cause? Maybe sell the paintings to raise money for the Polish underground army? And other treasures were smuggled out of Europe besides paintings. As you can imagine, it will take years for the world to sort all this out.”
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