“I heard that the switchboard operators censor them for anything indecent,” Louise said. “What did you write?”
“My little secret.” Tidye tilted her head flirtatiously. “But I may have signed your name, not mine.”
Louise laughed and took a sip of her champagne, twisting in her seat to face the water-jet ballet, where plumes of water shooting higher and higher into the air synchronized to the beat of automated orchestral music. Beside her, Betty bobbed her chin along to the tune while occasionally glancing at Helen and their guide, Ruth. The two women sat in the corner, deep in conversation, their heads so close that Helen’s curls spilled over Ruth’s smooth fair hair.
Betty, Louise, Tidye, and Annette turned their attention to the dance floor as Harriet stumbled toward them. Upon her arrival, the phone at the center of the table rang and Harriet grabbed it. “Hallo?” she trilled into the receiver. She squinted, trying to make sense of whatever the speaker at the other end of the line was saying. “Ja, ja,” she answered before hanging up.
“Another invitation to dance?” asked Annette.
“Yes. This time from table thirty-two,” Harriet answered, heading back toward the dance floor.
“Be careful,” Betty said, plucking a cigarette from her pocketbook.
Harriet turned to look back at Betty over her shoulder. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud. I’m fine. Wouldn’t kill you to have a little fun too.”
“Just don’t forget what we’re here for.”
Harriet pouted. “Like I could forget.”
No one else filled her dance card the way Harriet did. One German man after another lined up to keep her occupied, most of them in military uniform.
Louise glanced away from Harriet’s retreating figure as a note arrived in their table’s pneumatic mail tube and the women shrieked in delight. Tidye whisked it from the tube’s opening. “I think this will be for you,” she said, handing it to Louise.
Louise felt her face heat as she opened the folded note.
I’ll walk you to your dorm whenever you’re ready. —M
She looked up at them. “I think it’s time for me to head back.”
The women all hooted. “With Mack?”
Louise smiled and gathered her bag and evening wrap. Across the ballroom, she saw Mack rise and say goodbye to his friends.
“We’ll be along soon,” Tidye said. “But don’t worry, we’ll stroll back slowly and give you two plenty of time to talk.” With her emphasis on talk, all the women burst into laughter and Louise looked down, hiding her delight.
Mack was waiting for her outside the dance hall’s entrance, his usual wide grin stretching across his handsome face. He offered his arm to her and the two drifted along the boulevard. As soon as Louise had found her sea legs aboard the Manhattan, they had made taking a stroll about the deck each evening a habit. Since landing in Germany, they continued to meet for meals and walks together.
Louise pointed at the window of an art gallery, and from outside, they stopped to admire the paintings.
A German woman approached Louise holding a small book. “Good evening, Fräulein Stokes, may I please have your autograph?”
Louise signed her name and exchanged an auf wiedersehen with the Berliner.
“Did you ever imagine it would be like this here?” she asked Mack as they continued along the street.
“It’s confusing, isn’t it? We were told how much Hitler hated us, but no one said how much Berliners would love us. You should see it; whenever we’re out on the streets with Jesse, he’s swarmed by German girls, screaming his name and pushing their way toward him.” He shook his head. “Did I tell you that a couple invited Dave and Jesse to have coffee in their apartment yesterday?”
“Really?”
“And they went,” Mack added. “Said the people couldn’t have been friendlier.”
They passed a newsstand and Jesse’s face gazed out at them from the front pages of several different Berlin papers. “Everyone loves him, but you know, the word is that you’re the most photographed woman in Berlin,” Mack said, tugging Louise closer.
“Who told you that?”
“Our guide read it in one of the Berlin papers.”
Louise laughed and rested her head on Mack’s shoulder.
“I love your big, beautiful smile,” he said. “You should show it off more.”
If melting from happiness was a possibility, Louise would have been a puddle on the sidewalk.
BACK IN THEIR room in Friesenhaus, Louise and Tidye changed into their nightgowns and prepared for bed. “You sure look like the cat who ate the canary,” Tidye said, giving Louise a smug look before switching off the lamp between their beds. “Good for you. Mack is a dish.”
Louise was happy the room was dark so Tidye couldn’t tease her more about the elation she knew to be written across her face. Mack was a dish. When he had kissed her good night in the Friesen-Garten, Louise could have stayed there all night in his arms. If Tidye and the others hadn’t shown up, she just might have, curfew be damned.
“Did you hear that Helen received an invitation to a special party on Friday night?” asked Tidye. Only thin curtains hung over the windows and moonlight spilled through the gauzy fabric, bathing the room in a silvery glow.
“Betty thinks that the German officials are doing everything they can to tire us out. The cold rooms, the parties. They want to see us at our events looking exhausted,” Louise said.
Tidye snorted. “They’re certainly doing everything they can to intimidate us at every turn.”
“True,” Louise said, pulling her covers to her chin. The Reichssportfeld alone defied comparison with anything she had ever seen. It had every sporting facility imaginable. Their guide had explained that the stadium could accommodate more than seventy-five thousand spectators. When Louise had entered into it with her teammates for a quick Opening Ceremonies rehearsal, she had not been the only one rendered speechless. Rows and rows of seating towered above them and the seating closest to the track was actually sunken, giving the track and field a stagelike setting. At the top of one of the entrance gate’s pillars, two
