The next temptation

 
 This time, there were cookies.
 
 But they were stale.
 
 They were Kipferl left over from Christmas, and theyd been sitting on the desk for at least two weeks. Like miniature horseshoes with a layer of icing sugar, the ones on the bottom were bolted to the plate. The rest were piled on top, forming a chewy mound. She could already smell them when her fingers tightened on the window ledge. The room tasted like sugar and dough, and thousands of pages.
 
 There was no note, but it didnt take Liesel long to realize that Ilsa Hermann had been at it again, and she certainly wasnt taking the chance that the cookies might not be for her. She made her way back to the window and passed a whisper through the gap. The whispers name was Rudy.
 
 Theyd gone on foot that day because the road was too slippery for bikes. The boy was beneath the window, standing watch. When she called out, his face appeared, and she presented him with the plate. He didnt need much convincing to take it.
 
 His eyes feasted on the cookies and he asked a few questions.
 
 Anything else? Any milk?
 
 What?
 
 Milk, he repeated, a little louder this time. If hed recognized the offended tone in Liesels voice, he certainly wasnt showing it.
 
 The book thiefs face appeared above him again. Are you stupid? Can I just steal the book?
 
 Of course. All Im saying is. . .
 
 Liesel moved toward the far shelf, behind the desk. She found some paper and a pen in the top drawer and wrote Thank you, leaving the note on top.
 
 To her right, a book protruded like a bone. Its paleness was almost scarred by the dark lettering of the title. Die Letzte Menschliche FremdeThe Last Human Stranger. It whispered softly as she removed it from the shelf. Some dust showered down.
 
 At the window, just as she was about to make her way out, the library door creaked apart.
 
 Her knee was up and her book-stealing hand was poised against the window frame. When she faced the noise, she found the mayors wife in a brand-new bathrobe and slippers. On the breast pocket of the robe sat an embroidered swastika. Propaganda even reached the bathroom.
 
 They watched each other.
 
 Liesel looked at Ilsa Hermanns breast and raised her arm. Heil Hitler.
 
 She was just about to leave when a realization struck her.
 
 The cookies.
 
 Theyd been there for weeks.
 
 That meant that if the mayor himself used the library, he must have seen them. He must have asked why they were there. Orand as soon as Liesel felt this thought, it filled her with a strange optimismperhaps it wasnt the mayors library at all; it was hers. Ilsa Hermanns.
 
 She didnt know why it was so important, but she enjoyed the fact that the roomful of books belonged to the woman. It was she who introduced her to the library in the first place and gave her the initial, even literal, window of opportunity. This way was better. It all seemed to fit.
 
 Just as she began to move again, she propped everything and asked, This is your room, isnt it?
 
 The mayors wife tightened. I used to read in here, with my son. But then. . .
 
 Liesels hand touched the air behind her. She saw a mother reading on the floor with a young boy pointing at the pictures and the words. Then she saw a war at the window. I know.
 
 An exclamation entered from outside.
 
 What did you say?!
 
 Liesel spoke in a harsh whisper, behind her. Keep quiet, Saukerl, and watch the street. To Ilsa Hermann, she handed the words slowly across. So all these books. . .
 
 Theyre mostly mine. Some are my husbands, some were my sons, as you know.
 
 There was embarrassment now on Liesels behalf. Her cheeks were set alight. I always thought this was the mayors room.
 
 Why? The woman seemed amused.
 
 Liesel noticed that there were also swastikas on the toes of her slippers. Hes the mayor. I thought hed read a lot.
 
 The mayors wife placed her hands in her side pockets. Lately, its you who gets the most use out of this room.
 
 Have you read this one? Liesel held up The Last Human Stranger.
 
 Ilsa looked more closely at the title. I have, yes.
 
 Any good?
 
 Not bad.
 
 There was an itch to leave then, but also a peculiar obligation to stay. She moved to speak, but the available words were too many and too fast. There were several attempts to snatch at them, but it was the mayors wife who took the initiative.
 
 She saw Rudys face in the window, or more to the point, his candlelit hair. I think youd better go, she said. Hes waiting for you.
 
 On the way home, they ate.
 
 Are you sure there wasnt anything else? Rudy asked. There must have been.
 
 We were lucky to get the cookies. Liesel examined the gift in Rudys arms. Now tell the truth. Did you eat any before I came back out?
 
 Rudy was indignant. Hey, youre the thief here, not me.
 
 Dont kid me, Saukerl, I could see some sugar at the side of your mouth.
 
 Paranoid, Rudy took the plate in just the one hand and wiped with the other. I didnt eat any, I promise.
 
 Half the cookies were gone before they hit the bridge, and they shared the rest with Tommy Mller on Himmel Street.
 
 When theyd finished eating, there was only one afterthought, and Rudy spoke it.
 
 What the hell do we do with the plate?