“Aunt Adele, there simply isn’t enough room unless you evict a tenant, and we all know you could never bring yourself to do that,” Jürgen said gently. “Besides, even if we did move in with you, you can’t support us forever. I’d still need to find another job.”

“Maybe I could look for a job?” I said. Everyone stared at me. I scowled. “What?”

“You’re no more qualified for a job than I am,” Mayim pointed out. “And I’ve never even come close to finding work.”

“Even if I do find another job, who’s to say this won’t happen again?” Jürgen said, frustrated. “Whoever insisted I be fired today must have immense power, and they must desperately want me in that program.”

“We are still discussing this as if you have some choice here,” Adele sighed. “The men who had you fired are likely the same men who are running the country. Today they are playing with your career—what will they try next if that fails?”

After a sleepless night, we woke to find a letter from the bank waiting for us on the floor of the front hall, having been pushed through the mail chute while we slept. I watched anxiously as Jürgen tore it open.

“What does it say?” I asked, although I already had an inkling.

He raised his gaze from the paper to mine, frustration and shame in his eyes.

“They’ve been alerted to a change in my employment circumstances, and if I can’t prove we have a source of income to cover the mortgage, they’ll have to call in the loan.”

“We’ll figure something out, my love,” I whispered through numb lips. He gave me a frustrated look and went into his study, closing the door firmly behind him.

Mayim and I took the children next door to visit Adele after that. I was trying very hard to remain calm, but as I sat down over my steaming cup of tea, all I could think about was Jürgen alone in his study.

“They say this program is all about space,” I blurted. Mayim and Adele just looked at me. “It was always Jürgen’s dream to work with rockets like this. If he must take this job, it might not be so awful for him.”

Adele sighed and shook her head, shooting me a frustrated look.

“Mark my words, child. If Hitler wants to develop a rocket program, you can bet your last Reichsmark that at some point in the future, it will be used to hurt someone.”