The Baker's Daughter Read Online Free PDF Page A

followed Kremer as he chatted about the wine and food and glitterati in attendance. Elsie wasn’t listening, too caught up by the brilliance of the scene. It was everything she’d dreamed, exactly like the lavish ballrooms and festive parties in the Hollywood films of her youth. Her pulse raced. Oh, how she wanted this world: Josef’s world of power, prestige, and uncensored euphoria. It dripped off everyone and everything in the room, like fruit glaze on a strawberry tart. For this moment, the dust of the baking board and black cinders of the oven were forgotten; the smudge of labored coins and soiled ration coupons in her palm, washed clean. ByJosef’s side, she could pretend to be one of them, a royal princess of the Third Reich. She could pretend the world outside this place wasn’t full of hunger and fear.
    The corridor opened to the grand banquet hall. Long white tables striped the floor with silver candelabras at each fourth chair. A string quartet sat on a platform, their bows moving back and forth in perfect unison. Couples spun in slow circles on the dance floor like miniature figures on clock gears. The men wore SS uniforms, a background pattern of tan dress coats and beet red armbands. The women highlighted the scene in vibrant dress shades, plum and apricot, orange and cucumber green—a harvest of young and old.
    A fleshy brunette in a scarlet lamé dress examined Elsie from head to toe, pausing at her feet. Elsie followed her gaze to the toe of Mutti’s T-strap. She quickly scooted it back under the hem. A waiter approached with a tray of bubbling blond flutes. Josef handed one to Elsie.
    â€œHere you are. I always keep my word. But be careful. One never knows the effect of champagne until you’ve tried it.”
    Champagne. Elsie’s mouth went wet. She’d only ever watched as screen stars sipped and grew giddy on the beverage. She hoped it would have the same magical effect now. She took a glass and marveled. She’d never known its color: light gold, like the wheat shafts just before cutting. She guessed it would be as sweet as honey and as filling as bread. She licked her lips and drank.
    The tangy bubbles bit hard. Brüt dry. A mouthful of baking yeast bloomed in water. She gulped to keep from spitting back into the flute but was not quick enough to hide her expression.
    Josef laughed. “You’ll get used to it.”
    â€œTry another sip and then another. If you don’t love it by the third, I’ll drink the rest for you.” Kremer chuckled. The buttons of his coat strained against his portly stomach.
    Despite herself, Elsie recalled Mutti’s advice and forced a dainty laugh. He was Josef’s comrade, after all. She wanted him to like her. So she did as he instructed and drank again, attempting to finish the glass and be done entirely.
    â€œProst! It looks like you’ve got yourself a strong fräulein,” said Kremer. “How about a dance while Josef gets you another?”
    Elsie held Josef’s gaze. “I’m not very good,” she said.
    â€œNo matter.” Kremer took Elsie by the elbow and led her to the dance floor. “I promise to go slow.” He pulled her close and placed one hand onthe small of her back while clasping her gloved fingers. His stiff uniform pushed the dress’s crystals into her skin, a thousand nails tacking them together.
    Elsie looked over her shoulder at Josef. He smiled and lifted her empty glass. When he turned to call the waiter, Kremer slid his hand down the back of her chiffon.
    Elsie pulled away. Her cheeks flushed hot. “Herr Kremer!”
    He grabbed her hand and yanked her forcefully against him. “Hush. It’s a party.
Don’t
cause a scene, fräulein.” He smiled a toothy grin and spun her deeper into the dancing crowd. “I wanted to speak with you privately. You see, there are those who find it odd that someone of Josef’s stature