Flora could not drag herself away from the magnificent sight. “Look, they are dancing over there. I think it’s a ball,” she said reverently, and she nodded in the direction of the Englischer Hof, on the terrace of which elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen were standing in small groups. “I’d love to take a closer look.” Musical notes drifted through the evening air, which was already saturated with the fragrance of lilac and lily of the valley.
Sabine sniffed dismissively. “It’s nothing special. The guests there have a party every night of the week. I know a chambermaid, Konstanze, at the Englischer Hof, and the tales she has to tell . . .” Sabine paused meaningfully. “Just imagine, the guests there eat foie gras for breakfast! With the finest white bread! And caviar, too. They bring it all the way from Russia in golden tins, says Konstanze.”
Foie gras . . . Flora knew how fine that tasted. Her father had once brought home a small tin of it himself.
“The spa guests . . . I still don’t know what that’s all about. The master said earlier that they spend a lot of money in the local shops, but they can’t just do that the whole day long, can they? And certainly not for the whole summer. They have to work sometime, don’t they?”
Sabine laughed. “That’s what you think. Konstanze will tell you otherwise. After breakfast, they go for a walk, and if you have a little free time, you should see that for yourself. You have never seen lovelier clothes in your life.” Sabine’s eyes gleamed longingly. “Sometimes they’ll return to their hotel rooms throughout the day, and Konstanze says that the women change their clothes up to five times in a single day, and that they have maids just to help them get dressed. They meet other guests for lunch or a drink. Or they go shopping, or to the casino. And starting early in the afternoon, all the gracious nobles have to start prettifying themselves for the balls and parties of the evening. I think we can safely say that none of them actually work.”
Chapter Ten
The next morning Sabine dragged herself, grumbling and groaning, out of bed. “Six o’clock, and not even properly light yet. You’ve got it good. You can lie in like a lady while I’m off to light the stove, boil water, set the table, bring in the milk, and a whole lot more besides.” She spat on her hands and ran them through her hair, which she then began to weave into a braid.
Flora, furrowing her brow, looked toward the window. From outside came a chorus of loud twittering. The birds seemed impatient for the sun to brighten the day.
“Believe it or not, I’d much rather come down with you now, but I’m not supposed to show my face before breakfast.”
“Be grateful for what you’ve got,” Sabine mumbled, her lips full of hairpins.
“I’ll do your hair for you if you like,” said Flora, who could hardly bear to watch Sabine fumbling clumsily with her braid.
A look of delight appeared on Sabine’s face. “Gladly, but on my day off, when we have more time. Maybe you can even weave in a flower. But now . . . enjoy your well-earned rest, young mistress!” She made an exaggerated curtsy in front of Flora, then thumped off down the steps.
What now? thought Flora, stretching her arms and legs so far that they made an assortment of cracking noises. Should she perhaps go for a morning walk? She could cut some apple and pear blossoms for the store—she had seen several trees heavy with blooms on her way from the train station. And she would be making herself useful on her very first day in the shop.
But perhaps Mr. Sonnenschein was up early and had already gone to get fresh flowers and branches?
As she lay there wondering what to do, her mother’s words suddenly came back to mind. “I don’t mean to dampen your enthusiasm for a moment,” Hannah had said as she ironed her daughter’s blouses and skirts the day before Flora left G?nningen. “But don’t let it carry you away. We are used to keeping ourselves busy, and for me personally a hard worker is worth ten times any lazybones. But too much hustling and bustling can upset other people. You don’t have to always do everything differently. Many things can simply be left as they have always been.”
“You sound like you think I’m a permanent pest. Don’t worry, I’ll behave myself,” Flora had said, feeling quite outraged at Hannah’s remark.
“Oh, child, I just want to give you a little useful advice to take with you,” Hannah had replied. “In Reutlingen, your enthusiasm did not just make you friends. When we came to fetch you, Mrs. Gruber said she was happy she no longer had to hear a thousand ideas from you every single day.” Hannah had looked up fondly from the iron to her daughter. “There’s a difference between working hard and being a know-all. If you’re clever, you’ll take a step back and watch how the Sonnenscheins do things for a while. And even if the way they do things is not always to your taste, well, keep that to yourself. You are the newcomer, and you have to get used to your new surroundings, not the other way around. Believe me, I’ve been through it myself . . .”
But surely her mother would have no objections if she just went out to pick a few flowers, would she?
Flora leaped out of bed.
At nine o’clock, with breakfast behind them, Kuno Sonnenschein and his new apprentice went into the store. Finally.
Her new workplace! Her first day! Hannah could hardly wait to get her hands on something. She put the present she had brought with her—a parcel of flower seeds—on a shelf to one side and looked around expectantly.
The shop was bigger than she’d imagined from seeing it from the outside on her first visit in January. While there was only one front window, it was large and divided into three panes. It was also rather dirty, and so densely plastered with handwritten notes and handbills that most of the morning sunlight was blocked.
Flora frowned. Wouldn’t it be better to get rid of all of that and put a few flowerpots in the window?
Beside the window was the door, also with panes of glass, over which hung a doorbell. When Kuno opened the door, the bell tinkled melodiously. How charming, Flora thought, and she smiled and breathed in deeply. With the door open, a little more light streamed in with the fresh air from outside.
Opposite the front door and large window, the shop counter stretched across the entire breadth of the sales room. Flora ran her hand over the decades-old wood, felt its grooves, saw the stains left behind by water and flowers—it felt warm and full of life. She pushed aside a few small bulbs and leaves, no doubt left over from the day before.
There was the long counter, two chairs behind it, a large cupboard to the right of the door that opened into the hall that connected the shop with the Sonnenscheins’ house, shelves on all the other walls, a few small tables topped by potted plants—and that was the extent of the furnishings. Most of the space was taken up by buckets all around the counter, with rhododendrons, viburnum, some green stems and foliage, carnations, and pale yellowish roses. The selection of flowers was not particularly broad, Flora thought. And it didn’t smell terribly good in there, either. She screwed up her nose and quickly located the cause of the bad odor: the cut flowers urgently needed fresh water.