The Other Einstein(27)

As Mr. Einstein postulated on Weber’s failings, I glanced at the clock. We had to leave that minute or risk missing our concert date with the girls, and I would not break my commitments to them, as Mr. Einstein well knew. I shot Mr. Einstein a look and then directed his attention to the time. He sprang up.

The puddles splashed as we attempted to hurry down the streets. Light rainfall, jostling umbrellas, and laughter slowed our journey to the pension. Still, we managed to arrive only two minutes late, but when we glanced around the parlor, breathing hard from our exertions, it was empty.

“Helene? Milana? Where are you?” I called out. Were they in their rooms awaiting us? I couldn’t believe that our slight delay would have caused them to stomp off. “Ru?ica?”

“What is all this noise about, Miss Mari??” Mrs. Engelbrecht asked, emerging from the kitchen with a crisp green-and-white tea towel in her hands. She loathed an excess of boisterousness at the pension.

I curtsied, and Mr. Einstein bowed. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Engelbrecht. I was just looking for Misses Kaufler, Dra?i?, and Bota. We had an appointment to play some music, and Mr. Einstein was going to join us. Are they in their rooms?”

She sniffed, a signal of her disapproval. “No, Miss Mari?. Misses Dra?i? and Bota stepped out for a brief walk, and Miss Kaufler is in the back parlor with”—another sniff—“a caller.”

A caller? I almost laughed at the ridiculousness of Mrs. Engelbrecht’s choice of words. Maybe Helene had a male visitor, perhaps a classmate or a male relative, but she certainly didn’t have a caller. That was part of our pact.

I heard a rustle of noise from the gaming room, and Helene called out, “Is that you, Mitza?”

“It’s me,” I answered as quietly as possible under Mrs. Engelbrecht’s warning glare.

Helene stepped out into the entryway, a wide grin on her face. “I’m so glad you’re back. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

As she pulled me toward the gaming room, she noticed Mr. Einstein behind me and paused. “Ah, Mr. Einstein, you are here as well.”

“I believe my violin was needed for the Beethoven?” he offered.

“Oh the concerto!” She clapped her hand to her mouth. “I had completely forgotten. My apologies to you both. I’ll have to apologize to Milana and Ru?ica as well. Are they with you?”

“They went out for a walk,” I said.

“Oh no. At this hour? They must be furious with me.”

“Please don’t worry, Helene. I’ve missed our musical gatherings many times. And I’ve been forgiven,” I said, reminding her of her own mercy. To lessen her worry, I changed the subject. “You mentioned that you had someone to introduce to us?”

“Ah, yes.” The smile returned. Maybe it was one of her cousins, of whom she often spoke so fondly.

Pulling me into the gaming room, Helene gestured to a dark-haired gentlemen overwhelming one of the spindly chairs that encircled the gaming table with his girth. The portly man rose to greet us.

He bowed to Mr. Einstein, who had followed me into the room, and then to me and said in heavily accented German, “Milivoje Savi?, pleased to meet you.”

After Mr. Einstein and I introduced ourselves, Helene chimed in, her voice a melody of delight. “Mr. Savi? and I were just talking about you, Mitza. I told him that my closest friend was from Serbia.”

I softened at being called Helene’s closest friend, but her compliment did nothing to lessen my concern about Mr. Savi?. Who was he, and why was Helene fussing over him? I had never heard a word about him before, and she didn’t describe him as a relative or classmate. Was he truly a caller, as Mrs. Engelbrecht said? From the way Helene was acting, giggling like a schoolgirl and bustling around him, I could almost believe it.

“Mr. Savi? is a chemical engineer, here in Zürich on behalf of a textile factory in U?ice to observe practices at other factories. He is Serbian too,” she said, as if his background and connection to Serbia explained everything.

I didn’t know what to say. I was confounded by this gentleman and the reaction he elicited from my stalwart Helene. Even Mr. Einstein was uncharacteristically quiet as he absorbed the situation.

In the silence, Helene fumbled to fill the void. “I-I thought you two might have a lot in common, Mitza.”

I found my tongue and gave him the customary Serbian welcome. “Dobrodo?ao. It’s nice to meet a fellow Serbian here in Zürich, Mr. Savi?.”

“Hvala.”

Helene and Mr. Savi? turned back toward each other and referenced a previous, unfinished conversation. I waited to be included, but my presence seemed unnecessary, even unwanted.

“We will take our leave,” I said to interrupt their quiet chatter. “Mr. Einstein and I have some studying to attend to.”

Helene glanced at us as if she just remembered that we were still there. “Yes, your work! Miss Mari? is here in Zürich studying physics, Mr. Savi?. As is Mr. Einstein.”

Mr. Savi? raised a curious eyebrow. “Physics? That’s most impressive, Miss Mari?.”

My antipathy toward him was allayed a bit by his response; most men recoiled at the thought of a woman physicist. I wanted Mr. Savi? to know that Helene was equally formidable.

“Not as impressive as Miss Kaufler’s knowledge of history, Mr. Savi?, I assure you.”