She studied the menu very closely. She kept flipping between pages. Meanwhile he was trying to find pizza and instead found a lot of Italian words he didn’t understand. When the waiter stepped up to the table, Lauren resurfaced.

“We’ll start with antipasti,” she announced. “Genoa salami, Sicilian olives, pickled eggplant, squid with saffron sauce.”

“A very good selection,” the waiter said appreciatively. “And for your second course?”

“The chicken soup with egg, fennel, and artichoke hearts,” she continued. “And for the main course the monkfish.”

“Dessert?”

“We’ll decide later.” The waiter gave a bow and hurried off. Lauren had an intimidating air about her. Josef had to clear his throat before he could get himself to speak.

“Are the flowers still blooming? The courier promised to deliver them immediately. It was a very hot day.”

“I got rid of the yellow asters. The color clashed with the red roses and the bluebells.”

The mix of colors was the thing he’d liked most. He’d put the arrangement together himself.

“Sorry, Joe. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You know what you remind me of?” he asked.

“No, what?”

“A cat. First it comes trotting up to you, and then once it gets a few feet away it stops and starts frantically cleaning itself.”

“That’s cruel.”

“You’re nervous. Are you afraid of me?”

She shook her head and held tight to her napkin.

They didn’t say a word until the wine and appetizers came. The waiter placed the little dishes closer to Lauren’s plate than to his, as if she were a goddess who had to be appeased. Lauren tasted a slice of salami, her fingers splayed.

He raised his glass. She calmly dabbed at her lips, then she raised hers.

“So, when we’re done are you going to pay for all this with the Third Reich’s money? I’m not stupid, Joe.”

“No, you are not.”

He saw red lipstick on the napkin, the impression of the mouth that had just said these words to him.

“Joe?”

He raised his eyes. “What?”

“I’m glad you aren’t trying to deny it.”

“Since when,” he hesitated, “since when have you thought this about me?”

The waiter came and took the appetizers away. Lauren lit a cigarette, and when they were alone again she said, “Since the movie. It was obvious you knew what you were talking about.” She paused for a moment and looked straight at him. It was hard for him to hold her gaze.

“And?” he asked. “What now?”

“You don’t want to be in the wrong, but you know that you are, and you’re trying to keep it a secret from yourself.”