“It is terrible,” I said, squeezing Mayim’s hand. “But we must keep our spirits up. This is not a representation of who we are as a nation. People are scared about political instability, and the rising unemployment isn’t helping.” Mayim raised her gaze to mine, and I squeezed her hand again. “Even wealthy families are struggling.”

Not mine, thankfully. My family estate was flourishing—in fact, at that moment my father was in New York, taking advantage of the aftermath of the Wall Street crash to expand his business. Lydia’s family was fine too. Her father possessed extraordinary wealth, and Karl was a descendant of Prussian kings and German emperors. As the eldest child in his family, he inherited an incredible fortune when his parents passed.

But Mayim’s father, Levi, had taken out extensive loans to shore up his business through the hyperinflation crisis after the Great War. For years, he worked himself ragged to meet his repayments and keep his company afloat. Then came the Wall Street crash in 1929, and as the banks began to struggle, they called in the balance of Levi’s loans, years ahead of schedule.

Just one year earlier, Mayim’s family enjoyed a lifestyle of comfort to rival the wealthiest families in Germany. Over the space of just a few shocking months, they lost everything they owned.

Lydia shifted awkwardly in her chair, then flicked Mayim a hesitant glance.

“How is your father?”

“He’s found work,” Mayim said, forcing a smile. “So that’s something.”

“But…his business?”

“Gone. And the house.”

“He must have retained something. His cash, surely? Some artwork or a property or two?” Lydia pressed, as if the alternative were impossible. Mayim shrugged noncommittally, and we fell into a slightly strained moment of silence. Comprehension finally dawned on Lydia’s face and she gave me the horrified, panicked look of a wealthy woman who had never considered that someone of her social class could ever be penniless.

“I have news, Lydia,” I blurted. She still looked frazzled, but she raised her thin eyebrows in question, and I smiled. “I’m expecting. The doctor says I’ll deliver the baby in January.”

Thankfully, the conversation moved quickly on from that moment of awkwardness, as Lydia predictably squealed. I then carefully managed to tie together two new threads of conversation—baby chat and matchmaking chat, as I discussed the “wealthy, handsome, preferably Jewish” young men Lydia or I could possibly set Mayim up with. I felt so terrible for her and I wished we could set her up with a suitable young man. She desperately wanted a family of her own, but potential suitors in our social circles dried up when her family’s wealth did.