The Baker's Daughter Read Online Free PDF

would take up with the uneducated daughter of a common baker when there are far superior options, including your own sister.”
    She winced at his mention of her academic record. While Hazel had attended
Gymnasium
and graduated at the top of her class, Elsie had stopped early of graduation from
Hauptschule
to work full-time in the bakery. Though she’d just met Major Kremer, he obviously had great knowledge of her and her family.
    â€œThere are so many spies these days. Everyone suspects beautiful, new faces.” He leaned in and examined her face uncomfortably close, his hot breath like rotten eggs.
    Elsie sharply turned her cheek. “My family has known Josef for years.”
    â€œJa, and who knows how many secrets you have already gathered to pass on to our enemies.”
    â€œI am not a spy!” she hissed. “My papa bakes bread for the Nazi headquarters in Garmisch. My sister is in the Lebensborn Program.”
    â€œI am not curious about them. I am curious about you.” He sucked his teeth.
    They moved in circles on the floor. A woman with peacock feathers in her silver hair wriggled her nose when they bumped elbows. Elsie swallowed hard. Her head reeled. She was a loyal German, but how else could she prove her allegiance? All she had was her word.
    Kremer’s uniform stank of sweat and cigarettes. Champagne bubbles came up her throat. She wanted to slap him, to cry out for Josef, but the sharp pins of Kremer’s Security Police uniform reminded her of the possible consequences, not just for herself but also for her family. So she gulped down the sourness.
    The song ended. The quartet removed their bows from the strings, stood and bowed.
    â€œHere you are, dear.”
    Startled, Elsie jumped and knocked the glass from Josef’s hand; effervescent wine fizzed over them.
    â€œI’m sorry.” She wiped droplets from his uniform lapels. The starch kept them from soaking in. Her dress was not so fortunate. The champagne streaked the ivory hemline.
    â€œNo harm.” Josef took her arm. “I know a cleaner who can get anything out with lye soap and a boar brush.” He kissed her hand.
    â€œThank you for the dance. It was a delight.” Kremer clicked his boots and left with a smirk.
    The quartet leader came to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would take a seat, we would like to begin our Weihnachten presentation.”
    Josef led her to the middle of their banquet table. At the far end sat Kremer beside Frau Kremer, a dark twig of a woman with wan cheeks and a sharp nose. She caught Elsie’s stare and narrowed her eyes.
    Elsie turned her chair toward Josef to avoid her. “Josef,” Elsie began. Her voice shook, so she cleared her throat to steady it. “I need to speak to you about—”
    â€œLook, look!” He cut her off and pointed to the stage. “We have a surprise. Do you like music? Wagner, Hotter, Clemens Krauss?”
    Elsie’s fingers had gone numb. She undid the mousquetaire buttons of her gloves and pulled at the champagne-soaked fingers. “Ja, but I’ve never been to an opera.”
    He furrowed his brow and
tsked
. “I should send you some recordings then.”
    Elsie didn’t own a record player but hadn’t the composure to explain that to him now. She took off her gloves and felt instantly naked, the air over her palms intrusive. She laced her fingers together in an effort to buttress herself.
    â€œJosef,” she tried again.
    â€œAnd now!” announced the bandleader. “A short musical performance for your dinner entertainment.” He lowered the microphone, set a small footstool before it, and took a seat with his violin.
    Josef tapped his index finger against his lips. “Later,” he whispered.
    A murmur of curiosity rippled through the crowd, then fell silent as a stout SS-Gefolge woman with a shock of white hair down the center of her crown led a boy, no more