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marked “Juden,” and they were gone.
    A week later, while waiting in line at the meat shop, she overheard the shoemaker’s wife whispering to the butcher that the Grüns had been sent to the Dachau camp where they were sprayed with lye water like cattle and didn’t need shampoo because their heads were shaved. The image sent Elsie running out the door. When Mutti asked for the lamb, Elsie said the butcher hadn’t any, though there were clearly half a dozen in his pen. She never told her parents or anyone about what she heard nor did she ask about the Grüns. No one spoke of them. And while the shoemaker’s wife was not prone to gossip like the other town wives, Elsie chose not to believe her. Now, however, she could not deny the shaved head of the little boy.
    Josef sniffed his wine, then sipped. “I have something else I’d like to discuss.” He reached into his uniform jacket and pulled out a small box. “When I saw it, I knew it was a sign.” He opened the lid, revealing a gold engagement ring studded with rubies and diamonds. “I think we’d be very happy together.” Without waiting for an answer, he slid it on her finger.
    The waiters interrupted, setting large platters between the candelabras. The snout of a roasted piglet faced Elsie; its eyeballs were cooked blank;its crispy ears perked and listening. Bowls of creamy potatoes flanked the swine with white sausages at the rear, a ghostly tail. Though it was the most food she’d seen in all her life, Elsie’s stomach turned with distaste.
    â€œWill you be my wife?”
    A ringing commenced in Elsie’s ears. Josef was nearly twice her age, a friend of her father’s, beloved as a kind uncle or older brother perhaps, but not as a husband. The sideways stares of the Nazi guests seemed to press in on her like a wooden-toothed nutcracker. Josef waited with casual confidence. Had he always seen her this way? Was she so naive that she’d missed the indications?
    The gemstones winked blood red in the candlelight.
    Elsie dropped her hands to her lap. “It’s too much,” she said.
    Josef forked the pig belly, piling stringy meat onto his plate. He took Elsie’s plate and did the same. “I know. I shouldn’t have asked tonight with so much going on, but I couldn’t help myself.” He laughed and kissed her cheek. “A superb Christmas feast!”
    Elsie focused on the food before her and not the ring on her hand. But the pork was so lardy she needn’t chew; the jelly rind slid down her throat; the potatoes were gray and mushy; the sausage mealy and under cooked. She washed it all down with red wine and tasted again her First Communion host. Acid crept up her throat. Bread. She took a bite of the buttered brötchen, the taste and smell familiar and comforting.
    She didn’t speak the entire meal. At the end of the main course, the boy’s musical performance also concluded. The orchestra, having had their break, returned to the stage in preparation for dessert and dancing. Elsie watched over the seated crowd as the SS guard marched her caged songbird to the back of the hall and through a service door.
    â€œThat boy.” She turned to Josef. “Does he have to go back?”
    The silver candelabras reflected the empty cavity of the piglet’s body and Nazi uniforms at every other chair.
    Midair, Josef halted a last spoonful of potato spaetzle. “He’s a Jew.” He ladled the wormy noodles into his mouth before the waiter retrieved his empty plate.
    Elsie tried to sound casual. “He’s only half Jewish … and that voice.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t seem to belong with the rest.”
    â€œA Jew is a Jew.” Josef took her hand, fingering the ring. “You are too softhearted. Forget those things. Tonight is a celebration.”
    From the candles, heat rose in wavy reflections. Elsie’s temples