Chapter 2
2
The morning after Inga accepted Mr. Gerard’s offer, his wife arrived at the Martha Washington to take Inga shopping.
“No offense, darling, but you’ll need to look a little sharper than the sad dress you’re wearing. That fabric could double as a horse blanket.”
Inga grinned. Mary had a way of delivering a blunt message in a delightful tone that made it impossible to disagree with her. They headed to the Ladies’ Mile, a collection of streets where a woman could buy anything from shoelaces to a diamond tiara. They started with the ready-made clothing stores, and Mary assured Inga there would be a seamstress aboard the ship who could tailor the clothing to a perfect fit.
By the end of the afternoon, Inga was the proud owner of five complete suits, eight coordinating blouses, two walking gowns, and an evening gown. Mary insisted on all the accoutrements and bought gloves, handbags, shoes, stockings, and a parasol. Most fun was picking out a variety of hats to go with each suit. Some had wide brims with lavish trim, while others were tiny and sleek to be pinned to the side of her head at a saucy angle.
What a heady experience it was to walk into a store and not even glance at the prices. When Inga offered to help pay the bill, Mary instantly waved it away. “You’re doing us a tremendous favor, and a new wardrobe is the least we can provide.”
Inga didn’t own any suitable luggage, so Mary shelled out for a new trunk with leather straps and a paisley fabric that lined the interior. A clerk wrapped the gowns between layers of tissue paper and folded them into the trunk while Inga changed into a new gown to wear out of the shop. The powder-blue skirt was so sleek she could only take tiny steps, but Mary assured her this was the latest fashion in Europe. The suit had a nip-waisted jacket of matching fabric and a darling white blouse with a lacy neckline.
With all her other new clothing packed, Inga wore the blue suit to board the ship on Friday morning. Eduardo came to see her off. The gangway was lowered, and the Gerards boarded the steamer ahead of her. She had to anchor her new straw boater to her head lest the breeze carry it away.
“You won’t forget me, will you?” Eduardo’s dark, gentle eyes implored her with such kindness, and yet it wouldn’t be right to leave without telling him the truth.
“Please don’t wait for me,” she said. “I don’t know when I’ll be back, and I’m not the right girl for you.”
“Oh, but Inga, you are !”
She wasn’t. Eduardo deserved someone eager to settle down and start a family, not a flighty girl whose roving eye was still irresistibly drawn to any charming man who could make her laugh. She gave Eduardo a quick farewell kiss, disengaged her hands, then turned to board the steamer.
A handsome ship’s officer stood at the top of the gangway to welcome passengers aboard. The gleam of male appreciation in his gaze was unmistakable, and she instinctively sent him a dazzling smile in return. See? A whole new world was about to open before her if she could just forget about New York. Even so, she feared if she turned around to see Eduardo’s mournful face or the beloved skyline of Manhattan, she wouldn’t have the strength to go.
She smiled at the handsome ship’s officer and let him lead her aboard.
Crossing the Atlantic with the Gerards was a shockingly different experience from when Inga traveled as a child. Instead of huddling in steerage, she had a room adjoining the Gerards’ first-class suite because rich people always traveled with staff they wanted nearby. They even wanted her to dine with them during the lavish, multicourse meals.
On her first night aboard, Inga glided alongside the Gerards into the grand dining room covered with royal-blue carpeting and lit by crystal chandeliers. For the first time in her life, she wore a silk gown. The lilac organza made a whispery rustle with each step as they walked through the dining room to their table. Heads turned, and it seemed everyone was watching her.
Did they know she was a fraud? She didn’t belong among all these fancy people. The menu card was in French, but Mr. Gerard translated for her. Who could imagine four different choices for beef? She hadn’t heard of most of them and simply asked Mr. Gerard to order for her.
A waiter dressed in a formal coat and white gloves delivered bowls of fragrant lobster bisque. It was the first course of six, and while it was tempting to indulge in the luxury, she mustn’t forget the reason she was here. The embassy staff in Berlin despised Mr. Gerard and wanted him to fail. She could use the six days of the transatlantic voyage to glean insight into her new post.
“What exactly will my duties as your secretary be?” she asked, then took a delicate sip of bisque.
“Mostly taking dictation and typing letters,” Mr. Gerard said. “Larry Milton will show you the ropes. Larry is Benedict Kincaid’s private secretary, and you’ll be sharing an office with him. Nice enough chap if a bit of a drip.”
“Larry is all right, but watch out for Benedict,” Mary warned. “Benedict is the chief of staff and casts a shadow wherever he goes. He is the fly at every picnic, the storm cloud on every sunny day. Benedict Kincaid is the living, breathing embodiment of the four horsemen of doom.”
Inga stifled a laugh. “Surely he can’t be that bad.”
Mary cocked a brow. “According to the cook at Alton House, Benedict begins every day with a cold shower and has a bowl of ice-cold oats for breakfast. Yes, he is that bad.”
“No wonder his wife left him,” Mr. Gerard snickered.
“Shhh!” Mary said, then turned to Inga. “Pretend you didn’t hear that, my dear.”
“Mr. Kincaid is married?” she asked.
“Was. Not anymore,” Mrs. Gerard said. “We mustn’t discuss such things, but look, here comes the gentleman in charge of the dining room.”
The ship’s ma?tre d’ approached, an elegant man in a tuxedo with a voice that sounded like it came from Buckingham Palace. “It is a pleasure to welcome you aboard, Ambassador,” the ma?tre d’ murmured. “The pastry chef would be delighted to prepare whatever special desserts you would like for the duration of your voyage.”
“Oh, what fun,” Mary said, taking a card he offered with a long list of selections. “Inga, what would you like? Pick something!”
Once again, the card was in French, but Inga didn’t need to consult a card to know what she wanted. “Can he make a Black Forest cake?” she asked. It had always been her favorite, and it seemed fitting for her return to Germany.
“I shall consult with the chef and return with an answer,” the ma?tre d’ said with a bow before slipping away. Was she supposed to bow in return? This was all so new and foreign and wonderful.
“When we lived in Germany, my mother always celebrated every Christmas with a Black Forest cake,” Inga explained to the Gerards. “She scrimped to buy a jar of brandied cherries and real dark chocolate, and those cakes made Christmas magical. She always insisted on a Black Forest cake at Christmas, even the year...”
A sudden lump formed in her throat. All the people she once celebrated Christmas with were now gone. She rarely thought of her little sister anymore, but it was Marie’s death that taught Inga so much about the importance of smiling through the pain.
Both Gerards looked at her with concern, and she decided to finish the story.
“My little sister caught a terrible fever when she was only six, and she died right before Christmas. My parents couldn’t stop crying for two days, and I remember thinking we were going to have to forgo Christmas that year, and yet, on Christmas Eve my mother dried her tears and proceeded to make a Black Forest cake like always. Marie had died, but the rest of us were still alive. God was good even if our hearts were breaking. The earth was still full of blessings, though sometimes we need to look for them.” Inga drew a fortifying breath to shake away the shadow of old pain. “Anyway, I still love Black Forest cake,” she said with an apologetic smile.
Mary’s face was gentle. “Then we shall have a Black Forest cake to celebrate your return to Germany, my dear.”
It turned out there were no brandied cherries aboard the ship, but Mary insisted they could buy some at the Port of Hamburg and have the cook at the embassy bake a fine Black Forest cake.
Excitement warred with anxiety as Inga nodded in agreement. Soon she would be back in Germany, and a new adventure would begin.