The sun shone, the homeland weathered the storm. High costs were down, and the Nation burned the inflated money. The people were back to work. Those who had taken out loans and invested in gold and works of art, flourished. It was a new day. America infused the economy with 800 million gold marks. The country was on the rise.

The entry door to the office lettered in gold rendering on glass, read, Ephraim Bernstein, “Attorney At Law.” Hilda, the receptionist, sat at her desk across from the entrance. Luxurious leather sofas and other imported high-end pieces furnished the room, and expensive oil paintings decorated the walls.

Tilli, a woman in her early twenties, entered the room from the closed inner office. Her deep brown, coiffured hairstyle hung just below her ears, and her bangs nearly touched her full lashes. A long-sleeved charmeuse dress with a blue, silk cummerbund showed her graceful lines and flattered her radiant complexion and brown eyes. She noticed a blond gentleman in casual attire sitting by the door. Leaning over the receptionist’s desk, she asked,” Hilda, can I have Mr. Mueller’s file?” She caressed a long string of white pearls hanging from her neck and looked the clients way thinking, He’s gorgeous, and Hilda handed Tilli the folder, bringing her out of her private thoughts. She turned and said, “Good day, Mr. Mueller, Mr. Bernstein, will see you now.”

Richard Mueller, over six-feet tall, with an athletic physique, followed Tilli into the inner office, and she closed the door behind them. This space was more opulent, but similar to the reception area, except for significant windows that took in the bustling city of Frankfurt.

In his mid-forties, Ephraim looked elegant in his double-breasted, gray suit over a crisp white shirt, and Windsor knotted tie. He rose from behind his desk and shook Mr. Mueller’s outstretched hand, “Mr. Mueller, it’s good to see you; please have a seat.”

Richard Mueller seated himself in a high-backed chair near the massive mahogany desk.

Before being seated, Tilli asked, “Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m fine, thank you.”

Ephraim drew a pad from his desk drawer, opened his fountain pen, and asked, “Explain in more detail what you touched on in our phone conversation?”

“Yes, as I mentioned, I have been playing soccer with an amateur team we call The Alliance that formed two years ago. We travel across the country competing on weekends, and our fan base is growing. My teammates chose me to represent them.”

“Traveling every weekend must be expensive?” Ephraim questioned.

“It has been, but we invested in an older bus, which brought our costs down. We met our expenses, and we need to eat whether we’re at home or on the road. The venues we play in don’t require compensation for the fields as long as we reserve them for the dates we play,” Richard replied.

Tilli followed the dialogue in shorthand, looked up and met Mr. Mueller’s deep blue eyes and time stopped. Composing herself, she resumed writing.

Mr. Mueller cleared his throat and said, “Since the economy has improved, we see more people at the games. My team, and the teams we compete against, now sell tickets and are bringing in reasonable funds.”

“It sounds like you’re in a good position. Do you have a manager?” “The team works things out between ourselves. We don’t want someone dictating to us. Look, all of us love what we do, and we have other jobs. This team was about enjoying the game, and we want to keep it that way, but it’s growing larger than we expected.”

“How much money are we talking about?” Ephraim asked.

“We sold tickets earlier this year to cover our travel expenses, but there are more incoming funds than we need to cover our overhead. Now, we are sharing the rest of our earnings. To be clear, every one of us is earning more than we receive from our present employment.”

“Have you considered joining the German Soccer Association?”

“We have thought about it.”

“It sounds to me like you and your teammates need to come in to discuss the possible changes.”

Richard handed Ephraim a file.

Ephraim browsed through it for several minutes, placed it on his desk, and said, “Everything I need is here. Mr. Mueller, becoming a professional team, would prohibit you from competing outside of Germany.”

“I know that, Mr. Bernstein. It’s connected to the Versailles treaty, but there are so many teams here that there is no lack of competition in our own country. The ability to earn a good income is here.”

Ephraim stood and said, “Then, you understand.” Shaking Richard’s hand, he glanced at his watch, “I’m sorry to be abrupt, but I have another meeting to attend. Tilli, schedule an additional appointment for Mr. Mueller.” Turning to Richard, he encouraged, “Mr. Mueller, it would be better if the entire team discussed becoming professional. Call me with what all of you decide. Either way, when we meet again, bring your team members in with you to sign the contracts.”

“There is one more thing,” Richard said.

“What would that be?” Ephraim asked.

“Discontent is growing throughout the country. Some people are even aiming for their resentment at the Jewish community. Our goalkeeper, Joseph, is a Jew. Until now, there hasn’t been a problem, but I’m afraid that it may change if we become a professional team.”

Ephraim answered, “Richard, I wouldn’t worry about it. Some Germans have caused trouble for the Jewish people since my people arrived here in the thirteen hundreds. These problems will pass. We are all Germans, and we have all loved, fought, and died for our country.”

“I appreciate your input,” Richard answered. “I will share what we discussed with the team.”

Ephraim started for the door, and Tilli called, “Good evening, sir.”

He tipped his hat on the way out.

After he had gone, Tilli turned to Mr. Mueller and said, “He’s a busy man.”

“I see that,” Richard answered. “And you, are you too busy to have dinner with a starving man?”

She smiled, “I would be delighted.”

Tilli removed her black, cloche hat and coat from a hanger by the door and Richard assisted her with her coat. She made arrangements for his appointment with Hilda before leaving the office and handed him a reminder.

“Good night,” Tilli called to Hilda as Richard held the door for her. Wide-eyed, Hilda answered, “Good night?”

They entered the elevator and exited on the ground floor.

“Where would you like to eat,” he asked?

“The Hofbrauhaus is just around the corner.”

The pair arrived at an intimate Gaststatt, and the waiter sat them at a private corner table, then served drinks.

“Are you ready to order, sir?” the waiter asked.

“Tilli, do you mind if I order for us?” Richard asked.

She inclined her head with a smile and he continued, “I believe that we would like the Sauerbraten with spaetzle and a cucumber salad.”

The server departed, and Richard asked, “How long have you known Mr. Bernstein?”

“I have known him for years,” she answered. “I lost my previous job because of the economy, which made it difficult for me to find a new position. I didn’t think I would have a chance of working at the law firm when this opportunity arose. When I entered his reception room, I thought it sealed my fate when I saw that an applicant filled every chair, and there was standing room only.”

“Why did he pick you?”

“That is a good question. There were other women more qualified. I had been waiting for hours, but when I met him, it was as if I had known him for years. He hired me that day.”

“He seems like a decent person.”

“The Bernsteins have been kind to me, and over the years they have become family.”

“You’re very formal at work.”

“When I’m visiting him at his home with his wife, Adi, and their children, it’s different, or if there are no clients in the office, Hilda and I both call him by his first name.”

Their meals arrived, and Tilli asked, “Other than your passion for soccer, what do you do?”

“I’m employed at the post office. I was working there when inflation decimated our country.”

“I guess we can thank the past war, along with the reparations to Belgium and France for that,” she said as she raised a fork of Sauerbraten to her mouth.

“Well, we don’t have to worry about it anymore, do we? America infused money into our country and they extended the repayment for reparations. The country’s economy is growing, and things are looking up.”

“It seems so,” she answered. “Do you like your job?”

“I’m happy to have it, but soccer is my passion. The job at the post office is an income that affords me to do what I love.”

“How did you meet your teammates?”

“After you’re involved in the game, as I have been for years, you get to know people. Max, one of the best strikers around, and I played on different teams, but we became friends. When we built our team, he brought two of our members with him, Gunther and Joseph. The other members came from different teams, and we all just meshed. I worried about Joseph when he joined the team, though.”

“Because he’s a Jew?”

“Yes, he’s a good guy,” Richard answered. “I hope Ephraim’s right and I’m just exaggerating my concern. To be honest, I don’t understand why so many Germans are having trouble with the Jewish people.”

“You know that some people blame the Jews for all of our ills.”

“Well, Joseph is a fine young man, and he is a great athlete. He also has a better head on his shoulders than most people do. So far, we haven’t had problems with the fans or any of the other teams.”

“Would it matter if you did?”

“Nobody wants trouble, but if it came our way, we would have to stand for our teammate.”

After dinner, the couple exited the Gaststatt to a starry, clear night.

They strolled to the station where Tilli would meet the trolley that would take her home. Richard reached for Tilli’s gloved hand and said, “I have enjoyed my time with you tonight.”

“I have, too. Thank you for dinner.”

Her ride arrived, and Tilli stepped up the stairs to the trolley’s platform and turned to wave.

Richard waved back and called out, “Will you go out with me again?”

She smiled and answered, “Yes, when?

“Next Tuesday, I’ll meet you at your office after work.”

“All right,” she answered, “good night.”

“Good night,” he whispered.

He watched the trolley until it turned the corner and thought, That is the kind of woman I want to marry.

****

Six weeks later, Richard arrived at the small apartment that Tilli shared with her siblings. He removed his hat, smoothed his hair back, then knocked on her door. Tilli opened it, and he realized why he was so smitten.

She smiled, “Come in, you just missed my sisters.”

“I would like to have met them,” he answered, closing the door behind them. Glancing around, he added, “I’ve enjoyed our visits over coffee, and dinner, but it’s nice to see where you live.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have spent more time together,” she replied.

“I missed seeing you last week,” he confessed.

“Come into the living room. There was an emergency at the general store, and I just couldn’t make it.”

“I understand. Your mother needed you.”

“Make yourself comfortable; I’ll get my things,” she said as she hurried away.

“I’m glad we agreed on a picnic, it’s a beautiful day for it,” he called.

She answered from the bedroom, “Would you mind getting the basket in the kitchen?”

Ambling into a small kitchen, he found the basket upon a crocheted tablecloth, next to the flowers and vase he had sent her the day before. Enjoying the scent of the pink carnations, Richard looked at the surroundings and noticed that everything in the room was meticulous. He brought the basket into the living room, setting it on the coffee table near a worn, velvet sofa. Examining the painting above the sofa that depicted bright, red poppies in a field, he called out, “That is an interesting painting of red poppies.”

“Oh, I know it doesn’t fit in here, but Ephraim and his family gave it to me last Christmas,” she said as she retrieved a blanket from the sofa. “Are you ready to go?”

He nodded, picked up the basket, then walked her to the door.

They journeyed by train to the small town of Kronberg arriving within the hour. Richard stepped down to the flagstone street, taking Tilli’s hand as she lost her footing and fell into his arms.

She righted herself and said, “How clumsy of me.”

He smiled, “I’m glad I was there to catch you.”

They sauntered up to the winding hill that led to the center of town. Richard’s gaze lingered on the Kronberg’s castle, high above the village.

“Tilli, look at how the sun reflects the light from the castle’s windows.”

Sighing, she answered, “I used to play up there as a child.”

Striding through the heart of the burg, the town’s people greeted them in passing. At the end of town, they walked a winding pathway lined with brilliant flowers leading to the lake surrounded by trees. Richard placed the blanket under a field elm on a grassy knoll then helped Tilli to sit.

Getting comfortable, she turned toward Richard, “I’m surprised that you could take a Saturday off.”

He seated himself beside her and replied, “We are between games this week.”

“Are you hungry?” she asked.

“I am.”

She opened the basket and prepared a plate of potato salad and a liverwurst sandwich. She passed the dish to him, and they ate lunch at their leisure and took in the remarkable view of the water with little conversation.

Richard took Tilli by surprise when he removed her plate, took her hands in his, and kissed her. When their lips parted, he said, “I have wanted to do that since the day we met.”

She reached up and pulled his head to her, returning his kiss. The kiss lingered, and when Tilli withdrew, she whispered, “That was nice.”

Richard nuzzled her hair and replied, “Let’s walk down to the lake.”

He helped Tilli to her feet, and they strolled holding hands through swaying shadows of leaves stirred by a mild breeze. When they arrived at the lake they stepped upon a wooden dock at the water’s edge, and Tilli viewed the surrounding landscape.

“It’s beautiful here, I’m surprised that no one is around,” she said.

“I put in an order for privacy,” he answered, and they sauntered to the end of the dock.

They sat at the edge of the quay and dangled their feet into the calm, cool water, and watched a pair of swans preening on the opposite bank. Richard reached for Tilli’s chin, turned her head to him, and kissed her once more. When they parted, they were breathless.

“You are the girl I will marry,” he declared.

She laughed and answered, “You must be crazy; we barely know each other.”

“I knew it the first time I saw you in Ephraim’s office.”

“Did you ever consider that I might not feel the same,” she asked.

“I know better than that,” he teased.

She laughed, “Well, I guess we have chemistry, but if I’m going to marry you, I should learn where you were born and raised.”

“You think I’m kidding?”

She smiled and said, “Mr. Mueller, this is sudden.”

He hugged her, “I was born in Kaiserslautern.”

“I hear that area produces great wine,” she mentioned.

“It does, it’s not too far from France, but reds don’t grow there. It’s the climate. They pick the grapes that grow there in August, nearly withered, because it creates sweeter, white wines for the Rieslings and Liebfraumilch.”

She peeled a splintered sliver of wood from the dock, “So, you’re not an original city boy, and you know a great deal about wine.”

“My parents owned a successful vineyard, but, my father died years ago.”

“I’m so sorry to hear your father passed away.”

“My mother still owns the vineyard, and my family has worked it for years.”

A gust of wind rose from nowhere while dark clouds moved overhead, bringing a chill with it. Watching ripples created by the breeze move across the lake, Richard pulled her to him. Lifting her chin, he sealed her mouth with his, and they hungrily sought each other, but she broke away breathless.

“I think the rain is coming,” she said.

He reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Then we should go.”

They gathered their things and walked hand in hand to the center of town.

Nearing the local hofbräu, he asked, “Shall we stop at the pub?”

“That sounds like a lovely way to end our day here,” she agreed.

At dinner, they discussed politics and their concerns over the growing inflation, and enjoyed learning more about each other over dinner and drinks. Later they rode the trolley in a torrential downpour, which ended just before they reached Frankfurt. The couple walked the cobblestone streets leading to Tilli’s apartment, laughing while holding hands and sharing private thoughts before reaching her apartment door. Richard kissed Tilli goodnight and waited until she entered, then heard the latch of the lock behind her.

Placing his hand on the door, he called, “Sleep well.” He heard a faint, “Good night.”