A House of Tailors Read Online Free PDF Page A

looking so like Mama, except that her cheeks were round and full, her arms straining at her sleeves. She covered my face with kisses, patting my cheeks with soft, plump hands. “Ah, Dina, Margarete’s daughter.”
    And Barbara said, “Look, Dina, a surprise for you.”
    Propped up on the sewing machine at the other end of the hall was a letter. I recognized Katharina’s handwriting. But the other thing I noticed made my heart lurch inside my chest, my breath almost stop. I looked at the red patterned carpet, at the machine with a chair in front of it . . .
    . . . and underneath the machine, the rug was worn bare, almost all the way through to the floor. Worse than our rug!
    In that second, I knew this was a house of tailors, no different from my own, except that it was poorer.
    â€œYou sew,” I blurted out.
    The Uncle blinked. “Of course I sew. Every minute I can when I’m not working for Mrs. Koch.”
    I took a step backward. I tried not to act shocked. Where had I ever gotten the idea that people who lived in Brooklyn were all rich?
    What had I done? I asked myself. What had I done?
    15 January 1871
    Dear Dina,
    I am sending this letter on even though it may reach Brooklyn ahead of you. I like to think it will greet you when you arrive. How much we miss you! There seems to be a hole at the dinner table. No one to laugh with, no one to tease, no one to reach for second and third helpings.
    First the news of the war.
    After the French lost Fort Mortimer and then the castle at Neuf Breisach, the soldiers left our town. They went on to lay siege to the French fortress at Belfort, but that fortress held out, still holds out.
    A soldier returned, asking questions about you in the shops. It must have been that terrible soldier who followed you that day. Even though no one answered him, it seems he is determined to find you. How glad I am that you are far away and safe.
    But there was one unusual happening, Dina. Do you remember a third soldier? His name is Krist. He has a fencing scar and blue eyes almost like Papa’s. Somehow he found out that you lived here. Don’t worry. He came to see if you were all right. He has no use for the two soldiers who chased you, but he’s glad that you are far away and safe.
    You’ll know that Mama was very impressed with him when I tell you that every time he comes, she puts out her best tea set.
    Krist. Isn’t that an interesting name?
    Dear Dina, I send hugs and kisses. Franz and Friedrich cry for you.
    Your loving sister,
Katharina
    And on the bottom in Mama’s heavy script:
    Dearest child, how much we all miss you! Grandmother said you were very helpful. I hope you will be helpful to Barbara, too.
    Love,
Mother

seven
    From the time I reached Brooklyn I longed for warm weather. I thought it would be like Breisach—sunny, with a cool breeze from the river. But when the heat came, long before it would have at home, I was shocked. My arms were prisoners in their sleeves; my back almost sizzled on the roof of the house.
    By that time, the tin roof was my bedroom!
    I could no longer sleep in the closet that had been fitted out for me. That first night the Uncle had opened a door off the hall and said, “Your room.” I looked in at a pantry meant to store bags of flour, and tea, and sugar. “I have taken everything out for you. Barbara and I have cleaned.” He waited for my reaction as if it were a chamber for Elizabeth of Austria. “Room for your trunk at the side of the bed,” he said, as if he had thought of everything.
    I swallowed. Barbara had tried, I knew that. A crocheted spread covered the tiny bed, and a starched white towel with embroidery along the edges lay at the foot.
    The spread was exactly like the one on Mama’s bed. They must have shared the pattern. I ran my hand over it, wondering if I would disgrace myself by crying. “It’s lovely,” I managed. “Really