“Bruno seems very nice, Anna. And your children—oh!—so precious!”
Anna swigged from her glass and muttered something along the lines of Seem and be are cousins, not twins. Bruno was behaving sweetly and with charismatic allure. But that was one night out of thousands.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Mary said and sadness seeped through her words like water through cheesecloth. “The other men on the team have Swiss wives and I don’t know any of the mothers from Max and Alexis’s school yet. I know I’ll meet people and make friends eventually. Everyone is nice enough. But cold, you know?”
Anna told her she did know.
Mary took the roast from the oven and put it on a platter. Anna rose to help but Mary said, “No, no, I have it.” Anna eased back onto the bar stool. “Anna,” Mary started, “how long was it before you felt like you belonged here?” Her voice hung on the hope that Anna would answer with the words Not long at all.
That was not her answer.
“Oh.”
Anna retreated. “Mary, it’s really not that bad,” she lied. “It’s just a chilly climate all around. You’ll find your footing and your gait. You’ll find your stride. It’s good you’re in German class. I waited nine years too long.”
“But Anna—your German is the best in the class.”
Anna corrected her. “I’m the only person who’s lived in Zürich more than a few months.”
Mary picked up the roast and signaled with her elbow to a bowl of salad. Anna took it and followed her into the dining room. “I’m so glad we met,” Mary offered. “Let’s do something after class next week. It doesn’t matter what. I’m happy to have someone I can talk to. Tim, too, it seems.” Mary gestured toward the den, where Tim and Bruno leaned forward in their seats. Bruno used the coffee table as a writing desk and jotted on a confetti-edged piece of paper ripped from a spiral notebook. Anna guessed he was giving financial advice. Mary called out, “Soup’s on!” and Max and Charles raced down the stairs. She called again for Victor and Alexis. They had been squabbling over whose turn it was to play the game.
Max was in the kitchen, underfoot. “Darling, please get out of Mommy’s way.” Max danced around. “Mommy!”
“What’s it, dear heart?” Mary dodged her son as she carried a pitcher of water into the dining room.
“Charles told a secret!” Anna glanced at Charles, who cowered next to the doorjamb, looking mortified.
Mary also noticed Charles’s distress. “Max, if it’s a secret then you can’t even say that. Okay? Go wash your hands.” Max grabbed Charles and they both sped off to wash up.
Anna wanted—almost desperately—to know what the secret was.
“YOU ARE KEEPING SECRETS from me,” Doktor Messerli accused.
Anna asked her if she realized that bank secrecy was a twentieth-century Swiss invention.
“There’s a difference between secrecy and privacy.”
“Yeah? What is it?” It was a defensive response.
Doktor Messerli shook her head and wrote something in her notebook.
ABOUT FIVE MINUTES BEFORE the end of Friday’s class Anna had looked up from her notebook to see Archie staring at her from across the table. He raised an eyebrow. Anna caught the tacit invitation. She made a face that she hoped he understood meant We’ll talk about it after class. Five minutes later, after Roland ended his lesson, after Anna assured Mary once again that she knew how to get to their house and yes, they would be there on time, after Mary finally left for her train and the rest of the class dispersed, Anna turned toward the trams at Sternen Oerlikon and without any verbal assent led Archie to the number 10. They boarded together.
Anna sat by the window watching the gray streets of the city grate past them as the tram sluiced south toward downtown. It was a monochromatic day. It matched her mood.