“Now that’s enough!” Werner stood up from his dining chair and pointed at Thom. “I’ll cancel that party of yours altogether if you don’t shut your mouth.”

Helen kicked Werner under the table.

Thom was about to speak but thought better of it. He spun around and strode into the hall.

“And close that goddamn door behind you properly!”

“It was already open!” yelled Thom, pulling it shut behind him—a little too hard.

The kitchen was silent for a few seconds. Then Werner turned to face Helen. “What did you kick me for?”

“You don’t have to take your frustration out on him. Thom’s right—we haven’t thought about his birthday for a second.”

“Do I need to remind you why?”

“He doesn’t know that, though, does he? It’s his sixteenth birthday—it’s really important to him.”

Werner stared at the tabletop, gripping his glass. His entire demeanor radiated frustration and resentment.

“Goddamnit,” she heard him mutter. “The house will be packed yet again on Friday. Perfect timing.”

“Maybe there won’t be anything left by then.”

Deep lines appeared on his forehead. “Can you smuggle half a torso in your purse every day?”

She looked at him in alarm.

“Because that’s what we’re talking about here. We still have an awful lot of work to do.” He stood up and left the kitchen.

Wednesday

Wednesday

1

1

She had never used it before: a tall, narrow, dark-red leather tote bag with a hard, rectangular base, a zipper on top, and two floppy handles. When she’d spotted it in a shop window in Rome four years ago, she’d thought it looked both chic and sturdy; back home, however, it had proven too big to use as a handbag and too small for going shopping. Helen had now retrieved her poor purchase from the linen closet in the hall and dusted it off a little. It leered up at her from the floor next to the kitchen table. There were two unusually heavy packages inside it, carefully wrapped in gray garbage bags and sealed with duct tape. The rest of her things were stored in the front compartment. She bent down to zip the bag up, and felt the chill rising from it.

“Give it your best shot,” she heard Werner say.

She nodded almost imperceptibly.

“You can do it.”

She nodded again.

He touched her shoulder. “I’ll see you tonight. Good luck.”

She turned around and sought his eyes. “You too.”

He gave her a slightly distracted look. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, but he simply squeezed her shoulder.

2

2

On the breakfast table lay a stack of forms along with an envelope, a pen, and a note in his mother’s neat, curly handwriting.

Could you fill these in for me, Ralf? I’ll be home at five thirty tonight.