She disguised her disappointment as she thanked him and climbed the stairs to her cousin’s apartment above.

Truus poured them each a cup of coffee. “What do you hear from your soldier boy?”

“His training was supposed to last eight weeks. He should be home any day now.”

“Maybe in time for Sinterklaas Eve?”

“That would be the best present I could imagine. But I doubt if the army thinks about sentimental things like Sinterklaas and hopeful children. I already bought presents for Wim and Maaike. I’m stopping at the bakery next for treats.”

“Well, if he doesn’t come tonight, there’s always Christmas. And what do you hear from Ans? Do you think she’ll be home for Christmas?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. The woman she works for isn’t well.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know, exactly.” Lena knew from Ans’s letters that Mrs. Huizenga suffered from spells of melancholia, but she decided not to tell her cousin. Truus loved a juicy morsel of gossip. Her husband also seemed to know everyone’s business and was jokingly accused by some villagers of reading all the mail.

Lena finished her coffee and hugged Truus goodbye, then went to the bakery for pepernoten and the traditional holiday banket shaped in a W for Wim and an M for Maaike.

“No A for Ans this year?” the baker asked.

Lena shook her head, willing away tears. “Her job in Leiden is very demanding.”

Her last stop was the manse to visit her father. She went in through the kitchen door and wandered through the dining room and front room on the way to his office. The rooms had seemed barren and lifeless since Mama’s death, and Lena always passed through them quickly. Papa had hired a housekeeper to clean and cook for him, but the manse lacked the warmth and cheer that her mother had always given it. A basket of knitting still sat beside her mother’s chair near the window, the needles holding a half-finished pair of socks. Neither Lena nor Papa had the heart to stow the knitting away.

“Engelena! You look hearty and rosy-cheeked!” Papa rose and walked around his desk to kiss her.

“I bicycled into town to buy Sinterklaas treats. I let the sun fool me into thinking it was warm.”

“Any news of when Pieter is coming home?”

“Soon, I hope. Papa, I wanted to ask —do you think you could come out to the farm tonight for Sinterklaas Eve? I know the children will really be missing their father. I will be, too, naturally. Pieter always made the holiday such fun for them.”

“I’ll try. But I’m sure you’ve heard that Mrs. Hoekstra is in her last days. I’m leaving in a few minutes to be with the family.”