“HERR ADAM, good morning, did you sleep well, Herr Adam?”
“Wonderful. Like in the bosom of Abraham. And Elfi is enjoying Lake Balaton too.”
Adam walked over to the little pen that Herr Angyal had built for the turtle.
“I gave Elfi some carrot.”
“Well, she’s polished that off,” Adam said and sat down at the table.
“Would you like coffee, please?” Frau Angyal tipped the pitcher of warm milk and set the whisk whirling. Adam lifted the lid of the sugar bowl and shoveled three teaspoons into his cup.
“I thought today for once I’d be the last.” He reached into a soup bowl for a handful of small dark grapes.
“What day of the week is it?”
Frau Angyal didn’t hear him. Her whole upper body was now in motion, her face flushed. She moaned softly, gasped a quick breath, and in the brief pauses she allowed herself, blew strands of hair out of her eyes.
“Ready!” Frau Angyal exclaimed, picking up a spoon and pushing the foaming milk over the spout, from which it ran in a thin stream into Adam’s cup. As she brushed his shoulder, her upper arm was sticky and hot.
“Is your husband already at work?”
“He has gone to get our Pepi, they will be here tomorrow.”
“The coffee’s so good, your spoon stands straight up in it.”
“You are very kind, Herr Adam, always kind,” said Frau Angyal with a sigh.
“You take such good care of us—it’s how I picture paradise.”
“May I show you something? No, remain seated, I shall bring it, keep your place.”
Frau Angyal hurried into the house. Adam opened the bowl again and strewed sugar evenly across the foamy milk, then dunked his hörnchen. Stillness—a cricket, a lark above the vineyard, and except for the rustling of leaves, he would never have noticed the breeze.
“Look here, Herr Adam, is it not splendid? Just feel it.” Frau Angyal was holding a roll of burgundy fabric in her arms, cradling it with pride and joy.
“Where did you get that?”
“It belongs to a friend. She got it from Switzerland, from her brother. Please, here.”
Adam wiped his hands on his napkin and felt the fabric. “Crepe de chine? This is really marvelous crepe de chine. I once had something like it, but not of this quality, and not so much and not this color. How many meters are there, ten, twelve?”
“A dozen is what she told me, that would do for us all, she said.”
“And what is to be made of it?”
“Something festive, for the wedding of her son, a dress for her. Here, please.”
Adam gave his lips an appreciative twist and accepted the roll.
“Herr Adam, I do not dare, but I should ask, although you are on vacation, if you would want to. It would be wonderful if you could sew for her, because she promised if something is left over, I can use it, but only if you want to, although it is vacation, which is why—”
“Do you have a sewing machine?”
“Yes, yes, yes. Magda has an electric, and it’s a Textima.”
“If you really think I’m the right person—gladly.”
“Really, Herr Adam, really? You are not angry with me?”
“No, I’m happy to be useful, so have her come here, or we’ll go there, just as you like.”
“What a joy, Herr Adam, what a joy! I shall call at once, I shall call her.”
Frau Angyal disappeared behind the curtain of plastic strips, Adam was left sitting there with the roll of fabric. He hesitated to lay it down beside him.
“Whose baby is that?” Simone asked.
“Good morning,” Adam said and pressed the roll to his chest so that Simone could squeeze past him to her spot. “Hope you enjoy your breakfast.”
“I’m not in the mood for enjoyment,” she said.
“Bonjour,” Michael said without looking at Adam. He, along with Evelyn, sat down across from them.
“And a good morning to you, lady and gent.” Adam took the fabric back into the house, as if to bring it to safety. He rapped at a half-open door, behind which Frau Angyal was talking excitedly. She waved him in, he bowed with the fabric, like a peddler presenting his wares. Frau Angyal pointed to the table. He laid the roll next to an empty crystal vase on the crocheted tablecloth.
“Tomorrow morning?” Frau Angyal asked, covered the speaker with her hand, and whispered, “She is very, very happy, Herr Adam.”
The threesome outside sat across from one another in silence.
“You waiting for me? Dig in, dig in,” Adam said. “Or have you all got upset tummies?”
“You might put it that way,” Simone said. “Do you two want to, or shall I?”
“Can’t we discuss this again a little later?” Evelyn asked.
“Later? Sure, for all I care. I already know what’s up.”
“It’s not that simple, Mona.”
“Oh, but it’s very simple. Where’s this from? Czech jam? And mustard? For breakfast?”
Adam sat down and dunked his half-eaten hörnchen in his cup.
“He still finds all this very yummy, our Herr Adam does,” Simone said.
“Let’s not make a big tragedy out of this!”
“It was a simple statement of fact, nothing more.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mona,” Michael said, “you’re acting utterly ridiculous.”
“They evidently don’t want to tell you themselves, Adam. It’s going to take a while, I probably won’t be here to lend an ear.” She poured herself some coffee. Then Michael poured coffee for himself and Evelyn.
“Want some too?” he asked, holding the pitcher out to Adam.
“Beg pardon, beg pardon,” Frau Angyal cried as she hurried from the house. With her forearm she tested to see if the pitcher of milk was still warm, picked up the whisk, pressed the pitcher to her breast, and began beating the milk. “I am very happy, Herr Adam,” she managed to say without missing a beat. “Very happy!”
“Well at least someone is,” Simone sighed. “Can you take me to the train, Adam? I don’t want to disturb the lucky couple.”
“When?” Adam asked.
He received no answer, and appeared to expect none. Like the others he was staring straight ahead, chewing slowly, listening to the beat of the whisk and Frau Angyal’s moans.