He held up a blank envelope. “Diece centesimi.”
“But… Ten centesimi? Is there gold in that envelope?”
The face of the postman remained blank. Defeated, she counted the change, and he handed her the envelope, shook out the letter, and slipped it into the new one. She filled out the information, wrote Bolzano, Alto Adige, and sealed the envelope.
Enrico took it with great ceremony, checked it, and shook his head. He pointed to the line that read Ministry of Civil Engineering, and then, as if she were slow, said, “Italiano, Signora. In italiano. Non capisco tedesco.”
“Now, listen here,” Katharina started, and the little man pulled back as if she’d slapped him. “You better learn enough tedesco to tell me I have to write the whole address in italiano, capisce? You just said I needed to change Bozen to Bolzano and South Tyrol to Alto Adige.”
“Italiano, Signora.” He slammed the little window shut between them and pulled down the blind.
“I need a new envelope,” Katharina shouted at her reflection. There was no response except for Annamarie’s whimper. “Stupido,” she whispered.
“What’s happened?” Jutta was standing in the doorway, her keychain in her hand.
“That little swindler! He sold me an envelope because I had to change the city name, and now he says I have to write Ministry of Civil Engineering in Italian. How do you say that in Italian?”
Jutta scowled at where Enrico was certainly still behind the glass. “Just you wait,” she scolded him. “You’ll be out of a job yet. Go back to your dried-up island and eat your noodles and tomatoes again.” To Katharina, she said, “Come with me. I’ve got an envelope for you. Don’t you ever pay him another Heller, not for paper.”
“Heller!” Katharina couldn’t help laughing. “I could line a whole street full of the coins and only the geese and ravens would profit from them.”
She waited by the sitting room window while Jutta rummaged in the drawer of her credenza. From the window, Katharina saw Iris Bianchi heading towards the church, and she turned to ask Jutta to hurry up, but she was already handing her the stationery.
“Katharina, what are you writing to the ministry for?”
“I’ll tell you later.” She took the envelope.
“Where are you going?” Jutta called. “What about the address?”
“I’ll be back in a minute. Watch Annamarie please.” She hurried to the church, hoping Iris had gone in and not farther on down the road. She found the teacher kneeling before the statue of St. Katharina, and Katharina waited until the woman had made the sign of the cross. When Iris stood up, Katharina quietly went to her and touched her on the shoulder.
“Katharina, buongiorno. Nice to see you.”
“Buongiorno, Iris. I’m sorry to startle you. I did not want to interrupt while you were praying.”
Iris looked up at the statue, then smiled at Katharina. “Santa Katharina. She help the teacher, sì? I pray to her for help. And here you are.”
“That’s right. She protects the teachers. Do you need help?”
She shook her head. “Not today. Per precauzione. Just in case.” Iris pointed at her. “You are here to pray?”
“No. I saw you come in. It’s me who needs your help.”
“Sì. Bene. I try.” She looked pleased.
Katharina retrieved the letter in the blank envelope and led Iris to a pew. “How do I write Ministry of Civil Engineering in Italian?”
Iris looked at her questioningly.
“They are the office in Bolzano that builds the roads, bridges, and dams.” Katharina made sweeping gestures with her hands. “You know? Lots of water, held back or whoosh!”
“Is this government?”
“Sì.”
“Ministry is easy. Ministerio.” Iris gestured for a writing utensil, and Katharina fished her pencil out of her bag. “Roads? Bridges? Genio Civile. That must be the office.”
Iris finished writing the words onto the envelope and gave it to Katharina.
“Thank you, Iris.”
Iris smiled as if she was waiting to receive an explanation about the letter, but Katharina stood up, and Iris followed her out of the church without any questions. Katharina expected Iris to follow her, to return to the Blechs’ home, now called the Foglios, where Iris had a room, but instead she faced north. Farther down the road, Katharina saw Dr Hanny coming in his motorcar.
“I go to Reschen,” Iris said.
“Oh. Are you not feeling well?”
Iris blushed. “He practice his Italian with me. He show me his books.” She shrugged. “I learn German. Tyrolean.”
It made perfect sense. Dr Hanny had never married, and Iris was an attractive young woman. He had always had a taste for the exotic. Katharina had often wondered what had kept Frederick Hanny in the valley all these years when all he seemed to yearn for was a bit more of what the world had to offer. Whether the valley was ready for this liaison, however, was another issue altogether.
Katharina offered her an understanding, if not encouraging, smile. “I’ll be off then.”
She turned back to the inn, and when she looked up at the window of Jutta’s sitting room, she saw her frowning. The sound of the motorcar made Katharina turn. She should have told Iris about the difference between the words dull and inhospitable in German. Dr Hanny was opening the car door for Iris, and Katharina smiled. It didn’t matter anymore.
She turned back to Jutta, a cautious smile on her face, and waved the envelope until Jutta turned her attention to her.
Post office, Katharina mouthed.
Outside the post office door, someone whistled a lively tune that made Katharina cringe. Rioba, their new prefect. The podestà. He was leaning against the counter and touched his fez before moving aside to give her room. Enrico stamped something Rioba must have given him and then put his finger on the corner of her envelope. She kept her hand on it, feeling sick to her stomach.
“Just a moment,” she said.
Rioba leaned over the envelope, the bronze eagle on
