Ans was relieved when Meta, the Jewish housekeeper, opened the door a crack and peered out. It meant that the Nazis hadn’t arrested her and Sientje.

But Meta didn’t seem to recognize Ans. “Yes? May I help you?” she asked.

“Meta, it’s me —Ans. I’m back. Is . . . is Eloise here?”

The door swung wide and Meta threw her arms around her. “Oh, my goodness! It is you! I thought you were another beggar asking for food. Come in, come in! Eloise will be thrilled that you’re here!”

Eloise is here.

The town house’s kitchen was filled with strangers, all huddled around the range, all wearing coats. A large pot of something that didn’t smell particularly good simmered on the stove. Ans was glad to see Meta’s sister-in-law, Sientje, holding Mrs. Spielman’s cat on her lap, but she didn’t recognize anyone else. “Everybody, this is Ans!” Meta announced. “She’s home at last!”

“Eloise told us all about you,” one of the women said. Someone was chopping something in another room. And she heard a ball bouncing.

“Is Eloise here? I want to see her.”

“I’ll take you to her,” Meta said. They stepped around the gathered people, passing two boys in overcoats bouncing a ball back and forth in the frigid dining room. And there was Eloise! She stood in the foyer, supervising a boy of twelve or thirteen as he chopped one of the spindles off the bannister. Most of the other spindles were also missing. So was the door to the front closet. “Eloise, look!” Meta shouted. “Ans is home!”

Eloise turned, and Ans was relieved to see how well she looked. She was much thinner, and the white streak in her dark hair had widened and spread since Ans had last seen her, but her eyes sparkled with excitement as she hurried toward her.

“Ans? . . . Is it really you . . . or just your shadow?”

“It’s me!” They fell into each other’s arms.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” Eloise said. She ran her hands down Ans’s arms as if to convince herself she was real. “We heard you were in prison.”

“I was, but they released me a few days ago.”

“Thank God! That gives us all hope that maybe Herman and the others will be released too. You can stop chopping now,” she told the boy when the spindle finally broke free. “That’s enough wood for today. Besides, I believe in miracles now that Ans is here, so maybe we’ll have another miracle and the weather will warm up, or the war will end before our town house is chopped into pieces. How are you, Ans? And don’t say ‘fine.’ I can see that you’ve suffered. Come sit in the parlor with me so we can talk. I would offer you tea, but . . . well, there isn’t any.”