That was how we found ourselves spread out on a rug beneath an ancient red oak tree in the park between our homes, eating rye bread thick with cultured butter and salami with soft cheese. Karl and Lydia left their young twins, Horst and Ernst, at home with their nanny, but Georg and their four-year-old son, Hans, were running circles around the rug. I invited Mayim, but she opted to stay home with Laura.

We spent a few minutes catching up—discussing the children’s antics and swapping pleasantries. Lydia and Karl were both profusely apologetic for their unavailability over the past few months.

“This country has been adrift for far too long. We knew we needed to do our part to ensure our national future,” Lydia offered by way of explanation.

“How do you feel about…?” I began. Then I broke off. It felt so awkward to raise the subject of the new government’s tolerance for violence against the Jews, and I wasn’t quite sure why that was, given I’d always thought of Karl and Lydia as reasonable people, and I was still hopeful they were as quietly as horrified by it all as Jürgen and I were. I tried again. “I was wondering what your thoughts are on…”

“You’re concerned about the new laws, especially in the context of the Nazi racial policies, aren’t you?” Karl said, flashing me a gentle smile. I nodded, and he added, “Aligning oneself with a political party always requires a degree of compromise.”

“You aren’t concerned that Hitler now rules a dictatorship?” Jürgen asked skeptically. Karl shook his head.

“The parliament is so hostile to this new government—how else could the Party bring stability but to bypass them?”

“He promised to restore law and order,” Lydia reminded us. “That’s a difficult thing to achieve without a few hard decisions along the way.”

“And these reports of the SA barricading Jewish businesses? Of harassment of Jews on the streets? The book burnings?” Jürgen frowned. “What do you make of these things?”

“Some incidents were real—but the rest of what you speak of is mostly rumors.” Karl shrugged. “You know how whispers spread, especially in certain communities.”

“Which communities do you mean, Karl?” I asked, frowning.

“Would you look at that,” Lydia said suddenly, and we all followed her gaze to where Hans and Georg were seated side by side on the ground, a little collection of stones between them. “Sofie, we must get Hans and Georg together more. They’ll grow up to be dear friends, just as the four of us are.” Karl turned to look at them too, and he smiled softly at the sight. But Jürgen and I exchanged a glance. The conversation was clearly over, but I didn’t feel reassured at all.