“Eva sent me,” Magda rushed, not sure which one she ought to speak to. “From the bakery? I’m Magdalena Novák. I’m looking for work, and Eva said I should ask for Renata.”
The first woman sighed and leaned the broom behind the door. “I’m Renata.” She assessed Magda once more, then indicated the road. “And your people? Where have you left them?”
Magda told her. Renata listened. The sky grew darker. When Magda was finished, Renata peered over her shoulder at the other woman before addressing Magda once more.
“I’m the housekeeper. This is Jana, the cook. Between the two of us, we’ve got everything under control.” She paused and peered outside. “We are the last house before an emptied-out village up the road though. You may as well at least warm up.”
She held the door open, and Magda ducked beneath the woman’s arm to get inside.
After Magda served the main course, she set the empty fish platter into the sink. Jana and Renata were already eating, and Magda ladled a bowl of Jana’s kielbasa soup.
Renata scooted over on the bench. “Eliška asleep?”
Magda took a bite before answering. The sausage was smoky and delicious. “Like a rock. I hadn’t even finished the first half of her favorite book.” She noticed the clean bowl set across from her. “Where’s Aleš?”
Jana rolled her eyes. “He and Walter are still in the vineyard.”
“Who’s Walter?” Magda asked.
Renata twisted her mouth the way she did when censoring herself. “The Fenkarts’ son. He used to come around and help Aleš with the deer until he entered the polytechnic in town. I think he’s just finished school…or something.” She made a sucking noise and glanced at Jana.
Magda knew of the Fenkarts, one of the Sudeten families in the area. Frau Fenkart visited Dr. Tauber every week. Her husband, who was a quiet man and never appeared comfortable in the house, waited for her on the hard wooden bench in the foyer. But Renata seemed to have something else to add.
“What?” Magda asked.
Renata pursed her lips. “Nothing. Walter’s a charmer. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Magda scoffed. Who would ever be interested in her? After she finished her soup, she checked on the dinner party again. The Taubers and their guests had moved into the adjacent drawing room with their desserts. The tone was now serious, the atmosphere sedate compared to earlier. She cleared the dessert plates from the coffee and side tables.
“The Führer doesn’t want to drag out the conflict,” the mayor said. He rolled an unlit cigar in his hand. “He’s got France. He’s got Denmark.”
“He has Poland,” Dr. Tauber said. He gazed at Ruth Tauber and she shifted on the divan.
Mayor Brauer flicked the cigar up and reached for his coffee. “Anyway, with Germany’s assets frozen in the United States, he’ll have to stop.”
Anna Dvorákova clicked her tongue. “Max, I’m sorry, but if I had to cast you in a propaganda film, I wouldn’t. In Prague—”
“I’m telling you,” the mayor snapped, “this will all blow over and things will go back to the way they used to be. You’ll be making films soon enough, Anna. Ruth and Gabriel here—these two—will be playing the concert halls again, and Johan won’t need…” He looked at Dr. Tauber but instead of finishing his sentence, he drank from his coffee cup. He shrugged. “It will all go back to normal.”
Magda had no reason to linger, though she wanted to hear more. She stepped out of the drawing room and noticed that Dr. Tauber’s office was standing open with the desk lamp still on. She lay the tray onto one of the foyer tables and went in to turn it off. She rarely had reason to go into his office, but she liked it, especially the layers of contradictory scents—of wood and antiseptic, of books and metal, of nature and technology—all in one space. The office faced the gravel drive, the fountain now lit up in the dark. There were two plush chairs before a beautiful old desk with gold-plated handles. A bookshelf filled the space behind Dr. Tauber’s desk. Wooden filing cabinets were lined up on the wall opposite with a variety of instruments and anatomical models.
She stopped at the brain and touched it. It was waxy. Renata had once claimed she had a strong stomach, but the anatomical models were enough to make her want to shut her eyes when she had to clean, saying it was unnatural to have one’s organs lying about on a filing cabinet. Magda laughed and reminded her they weren’t real. Magda peered at them closer now, fascinated by the veins and the parts and the shapes. Renata told her that if Magda asked, Dr. Tauber would certainly explain some of this to her. He did to Eliška. Magda only had to ask. She never did.
His office was where he worked and held most of his consultations and wrote his articles for medical journals. Examinations took place in the adjacent room. The patients ranged from the neighboring farmers to rather distinguished townsfolk, some coming as far as from Prague through word of mouth. Politicians mixed with the newspaper seller or the tailor in the foyer on Mondays and every other Saturday. On Tuesday through Thursday, Dr. Tauber worked at the hospital in Litoměřice.
Magda returned to the corridor, took the tray, and stopped at the stairs. She should check on Eliška. The six-year-old had a habit of waking up at some point when there was a lot of noise from guests. Her room was just above the dining room, and Magda’s room was in the attic floor above Eliška’s. Sometimes even Magda could hear Dr. Tauber coming home late, his footfalls tapping on the black-and-white marble floor.
As she ascended the next floor,
