But then a fourth telegram arrived. This one was from a friend of Jürgen’s parents, and it informed Adele that Jürgen had been orphaned and she was the only family they could find who might care for him. Adele’s sister, Jürgen’s grandmother, passed years before, and until that telegram arrived, Adele didn’t realize her nephew had married and had a family of his own.

Still, she had her driver take her to collect Jürgen the next day—ten long hours in a car, traversing the country. She had cared for him ever since. Even now that he was an adult with a family of his own, she still sometimes babied him.

Over the years, I’d made some kind of peace with Adele’s reluctance to embrace me. I’d also made peace with the reality that I had an obligation to care for her anyway. She had been a godsend to my husband, and that meant I was going to do my best to be a godsend to her, whether she liked it or not.

“How are you?” I asked her, and she rolled her eyes at me, as if the very question were absurd.

“Just fine,” she said, quickly turning her attention to Laura. She tickled Laura’s cheek, and my daughter gave a grin, opening her mouth so wide that the inflamed buds of her new teeth were visible on her lower gum. “Where’s our Mayim today?”

“She seemed anxious. I suggested she go visit with her parents.”

“Ah, that is good,” Adele said, nodding in satisfaction but also surprise, as if it were a great miracle that I’d done something that pleased her. “She needs them, and they need her as we wait to see what the great buffoon is going to do to this country.”

I walked around the table to fill her kettle with water. Once I’d set it on the stove, I turned back to try to reassure her with words I didn’t quite believe myself.

“We’ll probably be back at the polls before we know it and common sense will prevail. We just have to be calm and patient.”