A tug at her right elbow. “Ignore ourgentlemen, Fräulein.” Asmooth and silky alto voice accompanied another tug. “Please, join the ladies over here for a more cultured discussion. The men have obviously enjoyed too much brandy already.”
Forcing a cordial smile, Chaisley wished she didn’t even have to be in this room at all. How had she gotten into this?
“I’m right beside you.” Mel tapped her left arm. “She appears to be headed about twelve steps to your right.”
Chaisley moved in that direction with her friend close beside her.
The women were in the middle of a lively chat about a new dress shop which seemed to be everyone’s favorite.
“... they expected me to wait three months for the new gown.”
“I was told four, so three isn’t so bad. It’s my own fault for not getting an appointment sooner.”
“But everything I’ve seen come out of their shop has been divine. I don’t mind waiting.” The woman gasped. “Fräulein,thatgown is stunning. Who is your designer?”
A slight nudge to her arm. Mel’s signal that she needed to answer.
“I have one in London and one in Paris.” Chaisley swallowed. At the moment she couldn’t even remember who had designed the gown she was wearing.
“Well, that shade of mauve is absolutely lovely on you.” Another voice.
“Thank you.” Her head began to pound. Too many new voices, and an overwhelming bouquet of perfumes. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I need some water.” She lifted her hankie once more.
She stepped back and then moved to her left with Melanie beside her.
“There’s a large column over here that we can duck behind for a moment. Rick is still stuck with those men. Poor guy.” Melanie led her and then pulled her to a stop. “I am so sorry. I don’t know how to help you... I wish I knew a way out. It’s terrible that they thrust this upon you without letting you know ahead of time.” Her whispered words held a hint of panic.
“There’s no way out, I’m afraid. I must continue on the best I can. But I won’t be able to play if this headache intensifies.” Chaisley squeezed her friend’s hand.
“Here”—Mel shifted her until her back was to the massive column—“lean up against the column here and close your eyes. I’ve got a headache powder in my handbag. I’ll get you a glass of water—or something to drink it down with.”
“Don’t leave me for long.”
“I won’t. There’s no one headed toward you right now. I’ll be quick.”
Chaisley listened as Mel’s steps moved away. She took a deep breath and prayed for the headache to be lifted so she could perform. But conversations swirled around her. For most people, it would simply be noise to be ignored. But every sound seemed magnified, especially with her head pounding.
“Word has come that several of the professors at the university will be arrested and taken to a work camp this week.” The man speaking sounded...pleasedabout it.
She wasn’t sure how far away the conversation was taking place, but Chaisley did her best to tune in to this specific one and block the others out so she could hear.
“It’s about time. Our country needs to be cleansed of all the rabble and dissenters.” This speaker’s condescension was palpable.
She pictured a man with a smug face and a mustache like Hitler.
“I, for one, will be glad to see them fill the camps. If it comes to executions similar to the Night of Long Knives, I’m all for it.”
“Hear, hear!”
The voices moved away as others agreed until she couldn’t hear them.
Chaisley put a hand to her stomach. How could these men speak of eliminating people as if it were as simple and insignificant as scraping something off their shoes?
“What’s wrong?” Mel gripped her shoulder and placed a glass in her hand.
“I’ve got to get in touch with Dr. G right away.” She kept her voice as low as she could and relayed what she’d overheard.
If her friend’s intake of breath was any indication, Mel was just as horrified as she—but could they alert people in time?
