Kurt shook his head.
"My brother, sadly, has followed a different path. Like me, he had the chance to attend college in the U.S. Unlike me, he chose to attend school in Berlin. He became a party member two years ago. He is a firm supporter of the changes taking place in Germany."
Amanda closed her eyes. So many things made sense now.
"Is he older than you or younger?" Amanda asked.
"Karl is the same age," Kurt said. "We're identical twins."
"What do your parents think of Karl's choices?"
"My father does not approve of the decisions he has made. My mother has kept her opinions to herself."
Amanda took a moment to process what she had learned. Kurt had a father who worked for Hitler, a brother who supported Hitler, and a mother who didn't seem to care. No wonder he seemed reluctant to show her the family photo album.
"That's quite a family you have," Amanda said.
"Have I scared you away?" Kurt asked.
"No. You have, however, given me a lot to think about."
"I understand. You're no different than most of the people I've met," Kurt said. "Be sure to let me know if you want to be seen with me again."
Amanda looked at Kurt with animated eyes.
"Oh, I've decided that."
"You have?"
"I have," Amanda said. "I've decided something else too."
"What's that?" Kurt asked.
Amanda smiled.
"I've decided what restaurant I like."
CHAPTER 35: SUSAN
Wednesday, January 18, 1939
"ANTS?" Susan asked.
"Did you find something?" Jack replied.
Susan circled a word on a typewritten page and pushed the sheet across the table.
"I found a lot of things," Susan said. "Every one is cloaked in capital letters and doesn't mean a thing to me."
"You don't like acronyms?"
"No. I don't think many of your readers will either. When I think of ants, I think of little creepy crawlies that infest my kitchen – not Advanced Naval Training Schools."
Jack laughed.
"I can see I was wise to hire you."
"Did you hire me?" Susan asked. "I thought I was your indentured servant."
"You are. You're my servant until the manuscript is completed."
Susan smiled.
"That arrangement sounds slightly illegal, but I'll ignore the legalities if you throw a dinner my way every now and then."
"How does tonight sound?" Jack asked.
"Tonight sounds wonderful," Susan said. She laughed. "That was easy."
Jack smiled and then returned to the book. He had read and reworked many of the pages that morning but not at the expense of ignoring his guest. For more than two hours, he had managed to strike a delightful balance between work and play.
"Would you like some more coffee?" Jack asked. "We may be here a while."
"I'd love some," Susan said.
"Give me a few minutes then. I may have to clean the percolator."
"Take your time."
Susan smiled as Jack stepped away from his dining room table and made a beeline for the kitchen and his coffee pot. She liked hearing the word "percolator" almost as much as she liked spending time with the kind, unassuming widower of 917 Willow Street.
She watched Jack exit the room and then spent several more minutes on the manuscript. When she grew tired of acronyms, statistics, and naval jargon, she got up from her chair and started to inspect something far more interesting: the residence.
Susan walked out of the dining room and into the adjacent living room. She could see from the art on the walls, the books on the shelves, and the sheet music displayed on an upright piano that the house had once been the home of a cultured and educated woman.
She drifted from impressionist paintings on one wall to several framed photographs on another and found Janet Hicks in all but one. The deceased wife of John J. Hicks had been an attractive, dark-haired woman with large expressive eyes and a warm smile.
Susan placed a hand on the largest of the photos and admired a young couple on their wedding day. Jack stood proudly in his Navy whites. Janet clung to his side in a flowing, lacy, pearly white dress. Neither looked old enough to order a drink.
"You like that picture?" Jack asked as he entered the room.
"I do," Susan said. "It's beautiful. You both look like kids."
Jack laughed.
"I guess we do. I was twenty-two at the time, Janet twenty. I had just graduated from the Naval Academy and was awaiting my first assignment."
"Was this taken in Princeton?"
Jack nodded.
"We were married in the Presbyterian church just down the street. We were married there thirty years ago this June. It seems like yesterday though."
Susan sighed as she pondered her own wedding. She had been married at a similar age in a similar dress in a similar church on a day that seemed both distant and close. She smiled at the thought of her handsome, ambitious husband standing nervously at the altar in an ill-fitting tux. She could not believe she had once been so young, naïve, and happy.
"Tell me about Janet," Susan said. She turned to face Jack. "What kind of woman was your wife?"
Jack didn't respond right away. He instead smiled sadly, stared blankly at his guest, and appeared to mull a question that probably had a complicated answer.
"I'll tell you in a moment," Jack said. "The coffee is almost ready. I'll bring some out and tell you everything you want to know. Please make yourself comfortable."
"OK."
Susan watched Jack take his leave and then made her way toward a richly upholstered antique sofa. She found a place on the end of the couch, settled into her seat, and resumed admiring a living room that looked like a time capsule from the 1910s.
Jack returned three minutes later bearing a dainty porcelain coffee set on an ornate silver tray. He placed the tray on a mahogany table, poured two cups of coffee, and then placed a cup and a saucer in front of Susan. He took his seat on the sofa and turned toward his guest.
"I ran out of sugar," Jack said. "I hope that's all right."
Susan grinned.
"I'll survive."
Jack smiled. He sipped his coffee, took a breath, and then once again directed his full attention to the woman with the questions.
"What would you like to know about Janet?"
"I don't know. I guess the usual things. What was she like? What were her interests?" Susan asked. "I gather from the things in this room that she was cultured and educated."
"She was," Jack said. "She was far more cultured and educated than me."
"How so?"
Jack laughed softly.
"How much time do you have? When I met Janet in the spring of aught eight, she was an old-money debutante who spoke three languages, played the piano, and studied art history. I was a farm boy who spoke with a twang, played the harmonica, and studied steam engines. If it weren't for the uniform I wore at the time, she wouldn't have given me a second look."
"How did you meet?"
"I met her in Baltimore at a dance sponsored by the DAR. That's the Daughters of the American Revolution."
"I know what it is," Susan said. She smiled. "I know some acronyms."
Jack chuckled.
"I suppose you do."
"Please continue."
"OK. As I said, I met her in Baltimore. I was on leave from the academy. Janet was in town to visit a friend. We danced all night, went to dinner the next day, and spent the rest of the weekend arm in arm. Before I knew it, I was writing a lot of letters and traveling to New Jersey every chance I got. I proposed to her that Christmas."
"Sounds to me like you were a charmer."
"I don't know about that," Jack said. "I do know I was a man in love. When it became clear to me that Janet saw me as more than a pen pal, I did everything in my power to make her my wife."
"That's sweet."
"I prefer to cal
l it smart. I knew I would never again have the opportunity to win over a woman like that," Jack said. He smiled. "You might say I married up."
"I don't like that term," Susan said. "I think people marry their equals."
She laughed to herself at the boldness of her statement. She knew very well that some people, including Elizabeth, remained convinced that she had married down.
Susan didn't share her mother's view. She believed that Elizabeth had been too quick to judge Bruce Peterson by his net worth in 1991 and not his long-term potential. She prided herself on seeing qualities that so many had not seen and still did not see.
Jack sipped his coffee.
"What else would you like to know?"
Susan thought about the question before responding. She wanted to know a lot of things about Janet Hicks, but she didn't want to irritate or bore the admiral by asking too much too soon. So she went with the obvious.
"What was it like for her when you were in the Navy?" Susan asked.
Jack frowned.
"It was lonely. It was lonely because I was gone for months at a time and because she didn't have any children to attend to."
"Did you not want any children?" Susan asked.
"No. We wanted them," Jack said. "We just weren't able to have any."
"Oh. Was the reason medical-related?"
Jack nodded.
"Janet had a condition called endometriosis."
"I know what it is."
"I'm glad," Jack said. "I don't want to have to explain it."
Susan smiled sadly.
"You won't."
"In any case, Janet followed me from Seattle to San Francisco to San Diego. We spent most of our married years in California," Jack said. "Janet entertained a lot and developed interests like painting, but she was never able to do what she really wanted to do. She was never able to raise a family."
Susan could at least partly relate. She had wanted to raise several children but gave up that dream after giving birth to Amanda. Her doctors had told her that her body simply could not withstand the trauma of another pregnancy.
"At least you had many happy years together," Susan said. "That counts for something."
"It does," Jack said with little enthusiasm. "Do you have other questions?"
Susan smiled sweetly.
"Of course. But they can wait for another day. I've pried enough this morning."
"Should we get back to work?"
"We can," Susan said. "Or we can discuss more important things."
"Do you have something in mind?" Jack asked.
"As a matter of fact, I do."
"What?"
Susan grinned.
"Where are we going for dinner?"
CHAPTER 36: ELIZABETH
Sunday, January 22, 1939
Elizabeth leaned forward in her chair and extended her arms as the giggling girl crawled her way. She didn't need to do more to encourage the child. Lizzie Wagner already considered the neighbor lady the number-one draw in town.
"She has really taken to you," Ella said from a sofa she shared with her husband. "Lizzie did not warm up that much to my own mother – or to Erich's, for that matter."
"Few people warm up to my mother," Erich said with a laugh.
Elizabeth smiled. She didn't need an explanation. She had her own vivid memories of Gertrude Wagner, a humorless disciplinarian who had joined her son in Princeton in 1946 and become a permanent part of his household.
She recalled the time that she and her brother had given their grandmother – a teetotaler – a birthday cake to remember by pouring schnapps in the batter. Gertrude raved about the cake and recommended it to others until Elizabeth and Erwin told her how they had made it. The woman sentenced the children to six months of peeling potatoes.
Elizabeth picked up Lizzie when she reached the base of the chair. She placed the girl on her lap, lifted her high, and waited for her to squeal. She didn't have to wait long.
"I must say you have the touch," Ella said.
"I think she just likes the attention," Elizabeth said.
"Do you have many children and grandchildren?"
Elizabeth shook her head.
"No. I have just Susan and Amanda."
"Perhaps Amanda will give you great-grandchildren some day," Ella said.
"Perhaps she will," Elizabeth replied. "In the meantime, I guess I'll have to make do with this splendid child of yours."
Elizabeth bounced Lizzie on her knee and smiled when the girl gurgled her approval. She wondered if she had some sort of cosmic connection with the baby but quickly dismissed the notion as New Age nonsense. Lizzie, she concluded, was simply a good-natured infant who had cornered the market on sweetness and light.
"So tell me about your childhood," Erich said. He leaned forward. "I'd like to hear what Princeton was like in the 1800s."
Elizabeth gave Lizzie one more smile before turning to her father and a topic she was not all that eager to discuss. She did not mind rehashing her idyllic childhood, but she did not want to lie. She did not want to tell her parents things that might someday be disproved and threaten a beautiful relationship that was just beginning to bloom.
"It was much different than it is now," Elizabeth said. "There were fewer buildings on the campus and, while I was here, no electric lighting. People lit gas lamps and stoves and moved around in horse-drawn carriages. I moved to Chicago before the first automobiles arrived."
"I see. Tell me about your father," Erich said. "What did he do?"
Elizabeth smiled.
He sat on that couch and taught math at Princeton.
"He was a teacher," Elizabeth said. "He taught mathematics at a local school."
"So he was an educated man?" Ella asked.
Elizabeth nodded.
"He had degrees in both math and science, but he taught only math. He practiced his science in a workshop behind our house."
"What do you mean?" Erich asked.
"I mean he tinkered and invented. He was as intellectually curious as Thomas Edison but nowhere near as successful. He had only seven patents at the time of his death."
"Did he know Mr. Edison?"
Elizabeth smiled. She figured if she was going to create a family history out of thin air, she might as well make it an interesting one.
"He did. My father met him in the 1870s at his home in Menlo Park," Elizabeth said. "That's about twenty miles from here, on Route 1, the road to Newark."
Erich nodded.
"We saw signs to it on our way to Princeton."
"I'm sure you did," Elizabeth said. "The community is more or a less a shrine to the inventor and more prominent than it used to be. Sixty years ago it was mostly a real estate development that never quite fulfilled its promise."
"What about your mother?" Ella asked. "What was she like?"
Elizabeth smiled.
"She was pretty special too."
Ella tilted her head.
"How so?"
"Oh, my. I don't know where to begin. She was special in so many ways. She was fun loving, talented, kind, intelligent, and as beautiful as any actress. My mother was one of the most beautiful women I have ever known," Elizabeth said. She gave Lizzie a funny face and then returned to Ella. "To tell you the truth, she looked a lot like you."
Ella blushed.
"You're being kind."
"I'm being honest, dear. You're a very beautiful woman," Elizabeth said. "Isn't she, Erich?"
Erich chuckled.
"She is, indeed."
"Now you're both being kind," Ella said.
"No," Elizabeth replied. "We're telling the truth."
"Well, whatever you're doing, you're making me uncomfortable."
Elizabeth warmed at the sight of her mother's modesty. She had forgotten that Ella Wagner was self-conscious about her appearance and didn't like to discuss things like the thickness of one's hair, the smoothness of one's face, or the sparkle of one's eyes.
"Perhaps I should speak in
stead of my mother," Elizabeth said.
"Please do," Ella said. She smiled. "She sounds far more interesting."
Elizabeth laughed.
"All right then. I will."
"You said she was fun loving," Ella said. "How so?"
Elizabeth gave the question some thought. She had a hundred examples to offer Ella and more than a few stories, but she decided to start with something that still warmed her heart.
"Well, for one thing, my mother loved to entertain. When I was young, she used to entertain me with puppets. She put on entire shows using a small stage my father had built."
"That's funny," Ella said with a laugh. "I asked Erich just the other day to build such a stage for Lizzie. I love puppets too. I always have."
Elizabeth chuckled.
"You see? You have more in common with my mother than you think."
"It appears I do," Ella said. She waved at Lizzie and elicited a smile. "Did your parents have other children? Do you have siblings?"
"I had a brother," Elizabeth said. "He died a few years ago."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I hope I have a son someday. I hope I have many children."
Elizabeth winced when she heard the comment. She remembered how her mother had fallen into a funk after giving birth to Erwin. Doctors had told Ella that she would not be able to have more children without risking her health and even her life.
"I hope you do too," Elizabeth said. "I think you would be a wonderful mother to them. I think you are a wonderful mother to Lizzie."
"Thank you," Ella replied.
Elizabeth bounced the baby some more and studied her face as she smiled, giggled, babbled, and did all the things that babies do. She already felt a connection to this child and this family, a connection that grew stronger every day.
She smiled when Lizzie grabbed her right pinky, put it in her mouth, and blew one spit bubble after another. She laughed when the girl squealed in delight.
Elizabeth looked forward to recording the moment in a journal she had opened at least once a week since coming to Princeton. She wondered if there was a word in the English language that described the joy of spending quality time with your infant self.
She encouraged the bubbles and squeals for several more minutes but stopped when Lizzie started to squirm and became visibly restless. She put the girl on the floor.
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