“My mother’s favorite possession,” said Zoltán, noting my interest. “She’d had it since she was a little girl. I’m the one who broke it, and believe me, I suffered for that careless act of mine.”
“She must have been very angry.” His willingness to impart such an intimate memory heartened me. Something had caused him to lower his defenses. Perhaps György had persuaded him to join us after all and he was trying to make himself agreeable, anticipating the long journey ahead.
“I might have preferred it, if she’d been angry,” he said. “No, it was the first time I made her cry and I felt quite dreadful about it afterward.” He gave a small shake of his head as the memory came flooding back. “I often tested her, but she had a blind spot where I was concerned. She refused to believe a single bad
