She would, of course, tell Mr. Sonnenschein about the small bunch of forget-me-nots she had given the old lady.
Since her first two customers, Flora had discovered not only where the money was kept—in a wooden case in the top drawer behind the counter, tucked away beneath a few old rags—but also a price list. At least, she hoped that’s what it was, and not a list of what Mr. Sonnenschein paid his suppliers.
A fleeting sense of pride came over her then. She’d held up quite well, all things considered, hadn’t she? But her mood clouded over again a moment later. Where was Mr. Sonnenschein? Was he feeling better? And why hadn’t Sabine come to tell her how he was?
This was certainly not how she had imagined her first day on the job: standing all alone in the shop and having to make the best of things. So much for “take a step back,” as her mother had advised her. When she wrote about this to her parents . . .
But, if she were honest with herself, she had taken a great deal of pleasure in all of it.
Flora was watering the potted plants when the doorbell tinkled anew.
“It’s getting harder and harder to get along this street every single day, let me tell you!” Still in the doorway, the man took off his shoes and knocked the right against the left, letting a fine rain of dust fall just outside the door. “Kuno?”
“The master isn’t here just now. Can I help you?” Flora curtsied.
The man looked her up and down. “You must be the new apprentice girl. Pleasure to meet you. Schierstiefel’s my name, gentlemen’s outfitter. My shop is a little farther along the street. I always come in on Tuesdays for carnations for my wife. But if Kuno isn’t—”
“Oh, that’s no problem at all,” Flora said hastily, coming out from behind the counter. So this was the man with the apprentice of his own, the Moritz that Sabine had mentioned. “A bouquet every week, and carnations—the symbol of deep friendship. How lovely! May I add a stem of this, too? No charge, of course.”
When Sabine came in at six o’clock with the key to the store and the news that the master of the house had retired completely for the day, Flora was so exhausted that all she could do was nod. Why were her eyes so red and teary? She hoped she had not caught something from Mr. Sonnenschein.
Her first day at work . . . She was pleased with what she’d done, even if she felt more tired than she’d ever felt in her life.
Chapter Twelve
Evening came, and Kuno had not completely recovered. His eyes were no longer teary and his cough had disappeared, but his throat was so raw that he could not speak beyond a quiet croak.
The doctor they had finally called in looked puzzled. “Strange. Normally, I’d suspect it was a reaction to something, like a bad hay fever, but . . .” Pondering, he tugged softly at his beard.
“But?” Ernestine said breathlessly.
The doctor looked up. “I’ve had several patients today with similar complaints, all here on this street. I’ve just come from the Schierstiefels, in fact. Perhaps it’s a virus going around?” He looked at Flora, who was standing in the doorway, listening to their conversation. “If I may be allowed an observation, young lady, you look to be rather strained yourself. Red eyes, runny nose.”
“Heavens, don’t say that! The girl’s only been with us a day. The last thing we need is her getting sick, too. If her parents hear that . . . well, it doesn’t bear thinking about.” Ernestine pressed both hands to her breast. “Doctor, I’ve been feeling rather ill myself.”
The next morning, Kuno was feeling a little better but not well enough to get out of bed. Flora, apart from her runny nose, felt fine and convinced Friedrich and his mother that she would be able to watch the shop by herself for the day.
Preparing herself for the day ahead, she was so filled with excitement and anticipation that she could barely stop herself from grinning constantly. She twisted the key energetically in the lock as plans for the morning turned over in her mind. The previous day, the morning hours had been relatively quiet. If today was the same, she would use the time to mop the floor and—
Flora had not even made it to the counter when her scream filled the room and she ran out again in a panic.
“You can’t be serious,” Sabine said, shaking her head vigorously. Stretching her neck, she peeked around the doorframe and into the shop, without setting a single toe over the threshold. “That is disgusting, just horrible! No, I’m sorry, I can’t do it!” She lifted both hands defensively as she stepped back. “You’ll find cleaning things in the little room off the hall.”
“Please, I’m begging you, don’t desert me now!” Flora held on to Sabine’s sleeve tightly. The fine hairs on her arms were standing on end. “Maybe with a broom?” she whispered. “Please?”
On the floor, on the walls, across the counter, on the flower buckets—everywhere she looked scuttled hundreds of small, almost transparent spiders.
“Where did they all come from overnight?” Flora whimpered. What a terrible shop she was in. “Have you ever seen anything like it?”
“No! If madam sees those things, she’ll drop dead on the spot. Which I could understand, actually.” Sabine screwed up her face as if she’d bitten into a lemon. “All right, look: first, we’ll bash them with the dustpan. And then I’ll sweep and you hold the dustpan—not vice versa!”
Flora ran off toward the closet to get a bucket, dustpan, and broom. Anything was better than having to deal with that horror alone.
The two women beat at the little creatures for several minutes without much success. The spiders were quick on their feet and clearly quite determined to go on living. But after a while, Flora’s and Sabine’s aim improved. The floor was already covered with many spider cadavers when Flora’s gaze froze for the second time that morning.
“Sabine,” she whispered. “There!” She pointed toward the twigs that she had cut the day before, the same ones she had thought were particularly lovely.
Where the cocoon-like white balls had been, there were only open shells. From some of them, the little spiders were still emerging.
“Oh my God.” The maid slapped her hand over her mouth.
“What in the world did I bring back with me?” A shiver ran through Flora, and she let out a hysterical laugh.
The spider-eradication campaign was still in full swing when there was a rapping on the shop door. The two young women jumped.
It took a moment for Flora to recognize the silhouetted figure standing in the doorway as one of her customers from the day before. Just behind her stood a man in uniform.
“She’s the one!” the woman snapped as Flora opened the door for her. “She’s the one who gave me that terrible stuff! ‘A gift’ indeed—that Württemberg girl was trying to kill me! And my Otto, too.”
The policeman behind her cleared his throat. “Nothing’s been proven, ma’am. We are simply in the process of establishing the facts of the matter and—”
“The matter?” the woman interrupted him scornfully. “Just look at the girl, standing there like innocence itself. I tell you, it was an attempt on my life. She tried to suffocate me in the night. Just wait. The doctor will be here any minute, and then you’ll have your matter!”
The officer looked meekly at the floor, where a few spiders were still scurrying around.
“It’s Else Walbusch, the lady from the general store. What’s she talking about?” Sabine whispered to Flora, and she surreptitiously flattened a few more spiders underfoot.
“I have no idea.” It took a few moments for Flora to recover from her surprise. She was beginning to feel as if she had landed in a nightmare. An attempt on her life?