“But America…,” Stephie begins. “ America ’s not involved in the war.”

Auntie Alma is busy with the children and has stopped listening.

“Don’t forget you’ve got your good clothes on,” she scolds them. “We’re going to have our pictures taken today, you know.”

That, too. Stephie had nearly forgotten.

“Do we have to get new pictures?” Stephie asks. “Can’t we send the ones you took last summer, Auntie Alma?”

“No, Nellie’s told me your mamma asked for more recent pictures. And since you’re dressed up today, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

Auntie Alma takes their picture on the steps in front of the house. First Stephie and Nellie alone, then all four children.

“Now you take one with me in it, too,” Auntie Alma tells Stephie.

“I don’t know how.”

“It’s easy,” Auntie Alma replies. “I’ll set the focus and distance, and all you have to do is click the shutter.”

Auntie Alma shows Stephie where to stand and which button to press. She goes over to the steps, holding John in her arms. The little girls stand one on either side of her. Stephie holds the camera as steady as she can. There’s a little metallic click when she presses the shutter release.

“I’ll leave the film in Göteborg to be developed,” Auntie Alma says. “Sigurd can pick it up after Christmas.”

Nellie looks disappointed. “I thought it would be my Christmas present to Mamma,” she whines.

“No, dummy,” Stephie says to her. “Not even a regular letter would get to Vienna before Christmas if you mailed it now.”

Nellie sticks her tongue out at her sister. “Know-it-all,” she says.

Stephie helps Auntie Alma clean up in the kitchen, hoping the whole time that Auntie Alma will invite her to join them on their outing to Göteborg. But Auntie Alma just chatters on, and Stephie can’t get herself to ask if she may come along.

Nellie walks Stephie to the gate when it’s time for her to go.

“Stephie?” she begins.

“What?”

“I’d like to buy Sonja a Christmas present, since she gave me one.”

“Do,” Stephie replies. “Buy her something in Göteborg.”

Nellie shakes her head. “Auntie Alma promised me enough money to buy the frame for Mamma and something for you. There won’t be enough for Sonja, too. Do you have any money?”

Stephie has the coin the sailor tossed her that day so long ago, and another Uncle Evert gave her. But she doesn’t want to give all her money to Nellie to spend on a present for Sonja, who she thinks is a pesky little girl.

“I need the money I have for my own Christmas shopping,” she says.

“What should I do, then?”

Stephie shrugs. “How should I know? Ask Auntie Alma for more money.”

“I can’t do that.”

“So don’t buy anything for Sonja.”

“But Sonja’s my best friend. She’s the nicest girl in my class. And I’m sure she got me a really special present.”

“Give her something of yours,” Stephie suggests. “One of the things you brought from home.”

“Like what?”

Stephie answers without thinking. The words just pop out: “Your coral necklace.”

Nellie blanches. “Oh, I could never give that away. It’s Mamma’s.”

“No, she gave it to you.”

“Do you really think I should?” Nellie’s voice trembles slightly. “Give it away?”

“Yes,” Stephie tells her. “Unless you’ve got something else.”

Nellie shakes her head.

“Do whatever you think best,” Stephie concludes. “Goodbye.”

After walking a short distance, she turns around. Nellie’s still at the gate. She looks so little. Stephie wants to go back and tell her she didn’t mean it about the necklace. But somehow she just keeps walking.

Nellie would never really do it, she thinks. Never.

twenty-two

The week before Christmas, Aunt Märta and Stephie clean the house from top to bottom. They hang handwoven Christmas motifs on the kitchen walls and put an embroidered tablecloth with elves and evergreen boughs on the table in the front room. Aunt Märta bakes bread and prepares a ham.

When it’s time to marinate the herring, Aunt Märta discovers she’s out of vinegar.

“You can go to the shop for me,” she tells Stephie. “Don’t dawdle, I need it right away.”

Stephie leaves, a big canvas bag over her arm, a shopping list and Aunt Märta’s coin purse in the right-hand pocket of her coat. She has her own money, her two coins, in the left-hand pocket. She plans on buying her Christmas presents for Nellie and Uncle Evert.

She’s giving Aunt Märta a pot holder she crocheted in sewing class. It’s a little uneven and has some holes, but after Stephie had undone and redone her work three times, the crafts teacher said it would have to do.

Every time anyone opens or closes the shop door a little bell rings. The shopkeeper is behind the counter, measuring coffee into brown paper bags. The shelves behind him are full of cans, bottles, and boxes. On the floor there’s a wooden barrel of herring, along with huge sacks of flour, sugar, and coffee beans. On the counter stand tempting glass jars full of soft and hard candy.

Stephie’s the only customer.

“Good day,” she greets the shopkeeper politely. He nods curtly and goes on weighing the bags of coffee.

Stephie waits. The shopkeeper pays her no attention until he has filled and closed all the bags in front of him.

“All right. What do you need?”

Stephie pulls out her shopping list and begins to read: “A bottle of vinegar, a pound of coffee, two pounds of oat…”

The shopkeeper takes a bottle of vinegar down from the shelf behind him and sets it on the counter. Next to it he places one of the bags of coffee.

The door opens.

“What can I do for you, ma’am?” the shopkeeper says, turning to the woman who comes in.

“… meal,” Stephie continues. Then she falls silent.

The woman has a long shopping list. She samples several cheeses before deciding, then pinches and pokes at least twenty oranges before choosing four. Stephie shifts from one foot to the other impatiently. She knows Aunt Märta is waiting for the vinegar.

Sylvia comes strolling down the stairs. She leans for-ward, arms on the counter, chin in her hands.

“My Christmas dress is blue,” she says. “What color is yours?”

Stephie doesn’t answer.

“Aren’t you getting a new dress to wear on Christmas?”

“Sure,” Stephie lies. “But it’s going to be a surprise.”

Sylvia smiles her superior smile. “I don’t believe you.”

Finally the lady’s got everything on her list and is paying. Sylvia settles in on a stool in the corner behind the counter, leafing through a magazine.

“Thank you,” the shopkeeper says. “Thanks very much. All the best to you and yours.”

When the woman has left he turns back to Stephie.

“What else?”

Stephie starts reading again: “Two pounds of oatmeal…”

“Let me see,” the shopkeeper says, taking the list out of her hands. “Oats, yeast, peas…”

He takes things down from the shelves and weighs them for her order. There are no more canned peas on the shelf.

“Sylvia, get me some peas from the storeroom.”

Sylvia looks up over the edge of the magazine. “They’re on the top shelf. I can’t reach.”

The shopkeeper sighs. “Well, keep an eye on the candy, then, while I go.”

“Sure.” Sylvia smiles.

Stephie feels a blush rise. As if she might try to steal their candy!

The shopkeeper returns with the peas. Stephie pays and receives her change.

“May I please see the bookmarks?” she asks.

“Are you buying?”

“Yes.”

“They’re not on your list. Are you allowed?”

Stephie would really like to take her canvas bag and walk out. But this is the only shop on the island, and she needs presents for Nellie and Uncle Evert.

“I’ve got money of my own,” she answers brusquely.

“Let me see.”

Stephie takes her two coins out of her left-hand coat pocket. Sylvia stares in curiosity from behind her magazine.