Sabine hesitated long enough that it seemed clear she was struggling with how much to tell Flora.
“As far as I’m concerned, I have enough work. The mistress is not what I’d call hardworking. When it comes to shopping, cooking, doing the laundry, and cleaning the house and the shop, I do the lot. All she does is peer over my shoulder. But I can’t complain. It’s better than being at home with my brothers and sisters and all the work in the stables. To be honest”—she lowered her voice—“sometimes I wonder why they took me on at all. The work here really just takes one. But madam is just, well . . .” Sabine shrugged. “Once we get the water piped straight into the house, everything will be easier. Then I won’t have to haul it all the way from the spring, and what a blessing that will be! They say they’ll be finished in a week. I’d like to get out there with a shovel and help the men myself so that they really get the job done!”
Both women laughed.
“So that’s why it looks so horrible out on the street,” said Flora.
“Did you think it was because of the French?” Sabine said, making Flora laugh again.
When, a short time later, they went down to the kitchen to clean the vegetables for dinner, each had the feeling that, beyond expectations, she had found a friend.
Chapter Nine
“Oh, believe me, it isn’t easy running a business in Baden-Baden. That’s how it was before the war and nothing is going to change about that now. If anything, it’ll get harder, since the French aren’t coming. They were good customers. Jewelry, clothes, flowers, didn’t matter what. Always at the best restaurants, staying in the most expensive hotels, and they practically lived in the casino! Well, if you’ve got the change to spare . . . but I’ll tell you, the business owners here didn’t have any of that this year, of course.” Mr. Sonnenschein swung his spoon out wide to add emphasis, then dipped it into his soup again.
“Not that we’ll be missing the French money,” said Ernestine. “We never saw any of it anyway. You were always against giving the shop a French name. ‘Maison Du Soleil’—that would have sounded very nice, if you ask me. But it’s too late now.”
Kuno Sonnenschein glanced sideways at his wife. “This bowing down to everything French . . . if you look at it like that, the end of the French era is no great loss.”
Flora was intrigued by the man who was to teach her the art of floristry. So far, she had not figured out much about him. Was he sorry that the French no longer visited the town, or was he pleased about it? Either way, it was about time that she took part in the conversation.
“But isn’t the end of the war a blessing, too?” Flora asked. “In G?nningen, I’ve heard the men talking about how the emperor is going to use the money that the French have to repair the streets and build more of them. Traveling will be easier and more comfortable—that is a good thing. And luckily, we don’t need a passport to travel inside the German Empire anymore. It was always such a lot of running around until you got one, and if you didn’t have it on you when they checked, you were in trouble!”
“Oh, yes. The streets.” Mr. Sonnenschein sighed. “But the real question is: Will the people still come here at all? Or will they suddenly decide to go to Karlsbad or Marienbad or some other spa town, or even head for southern climes? All those beautiful spots will be faster and easier to reach.”
“Hmm. I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Flora said with a frown.
“Then you should, dear girl,” Mr. Sonnenschein said solemnly.
Friedrich spoke up then. “Father, stop painting everything so black,” he said. Then, turning to Flora, he added, “It’s true, though. We miss having the French in town, but at least the Russians are loyal. And they’re so filthy rich, it stinks to high heaven.” He screwed up his nose in disgust.
“I know from my father that there are a lot of rich Russians. He used to do good business with them,” said Flora, smiling at Friedrich.
“Well, our boy here would know. He deals with nobility and the rich every day at the Trinkhalle,” Mrs. Sonnenschein said, and she patted Friedrich’s hand. “He doesn’t have to worry much about having enough guests, do you?”
“You’re mistaken, Mother,” Friedrich replied, pulling his hand out from beneath hers. “Even with us, it is much quieter than it was this time last year. There are fewer visitors in town. And it’s no surprise at all that the hoteliers are complaining.”
“But the hoteliers always find something to complain about,” Kuno said. “And they don’t look to me like they are starving.”
Friedrich laughed. “You’re not wrong, but you only have to look through the Badeblatt to see that their concerns are actually justified this year. Picture this:”—he turned now to Flora—“last year, fewer than thirty thousand guests were listed in the visitors’ register. In 1869 it was around sixty-two thousand! But things will improve, I’m sure. They don’t call Baden-Baden the summer capital of Europe for nothing, do they? This is where the wealthy of the world meet, and that can’t change overnight.”
Flora nodded uneasily. The way the Sonnenscheins talked, one could easily think Baden-Baden was on the brink of ruin. The war, which had all but ended just a few months before, seemed to have left its mark.
Flora looked down at her empty plate and realized she was far from full.
“Soup, soup, soup. And vegetables in between. We’re all on short rations around here, and you’d do well to get used to it early,” Sabine had told her when Flora was helping her in the kitchen. “Meat or smoked fish is a rare treat. They even skimp on Speck.”
Flora found it strange that Sabine was eating alone in the kitchen at that moment. Back home in G?nningen, their elderly maid, Ursel, always joined them at the table. But Mrs. Sonnenschein obviously had her own views when it came to customs and decency.
“Can you tell me about the Trinkhalle? I’ve only seen it from a distance, and it looks quite magnificent, but I’ve never been inside. Is it a bar?”
Friedrich laughed. “No, the Trinkhalle is not a bar, but we certainly serve something! I’m talking about thermal waters, and from several different springs at once. The very best medicinal water there is, extremely beneficial for your health, whether you’re suffering from an upset stomach or a gall bladder episode. Gout, a weak heart . . .”
Mrs. Sonnenschein looked at her son with motherly pride. “The Trinkhalle, the walking paths all around it, the pavilion—and our darling boy is responsible for all of it. But don’t think for a minute that the casino leaseholder appreciates any of it. The only thing that matters is his gambling tables. He never thinks about the benefits of having the Trinkhalle next door.”
“Oh, Mother,” Friedrich said defensively. After a long silence, he turned back to Flora. “If you like, I’ll invite you to try a glass of our outstanding medicinal water within our hallowed halls.”
“I’d love to! I can hardly wait to find out more about Baden-Baden,” Flora said. Hallowed halls—so much fuss about a few glasses of water, she thought to herself. And the way Mrs. Sonnenschein talked about her son, her “darling boy.” Her own brothers would have slithered under the table in shame if their mother ever talked about them like that.
A wave of homesickness washed over Flora at the thought. To distract herself, she asked Friedrich, “That means you mostly deal with sick people, doesn’t it? I’m not sure if I’d want to—”
“Oh, that’s not the case at all. Baden-Baden is not a spa town in the sense of offering a cure for seriously ill people. Only rarely do the truly sick ever come to us.”
Mrs. Sonnenschein’s brow furrowed. “Your waters are so healthful! They take a little getting used to, perhaps, but they’re very beneficial.”