Offerings (10 page)

Kate declined.

The name meant nothing to her. When she repeated it her voice rose at the end of the word and Peter knew she was asking a question.

“Cass and I decided today to ask our board to throw in the towel today and declare the Chinese Industrial Group the winner. I would have told you earlier but there didn’t seem to be a way to bring it up during our last call. One-eighteen a share. Fucking Chinese are buying everything in the world for peanuts.”

“Did you exhaust the entire list of potential buyers?”

“The fact that we can’t get the court to throw out the patent suit is spooking everyone. Seimens balked because they’ve got laws about stealing patents in Germany. The Chinese don’t give a shit who they’re infringing. Even if my piss-ant of a plaintiff chased them their courts won’t give them the time of day.”

“And the tower?”

“I’ll walk past it every day on my way to work for the next eighteen months. Welcome to my world.”

“Where exactly is that?”

“About six hundred miles west of Beijing. On the border of Inner Mongolia. Maybe I can learn to herd yaks on the weekend.”

Sure, they had fought over money a few hours ago, but Kate hadn’t expected to walk into her kitchen only to have Peter confirm he’d be walking out of their lives. She took a glass from the cupboard, poured herself some wine, and pulled a chair next to Peter.

“When do you have to head over there?”

“Six weeks, maybe sooner.” Her husband was talking about walking out on his family as though he was running uptown for ice cream and would be back in fifteen minutes.

“I’ll be right in the middle of trying to bring this company to market. I’ll be running all over the place talking to investors. Can you buy another month? I really could use you around here with the kids.”

“I can’t say no to these people.”

Peter sipped some wine, then turned back to the computer. He still hadn’t really looked at Kate since she sat down. “Maybe this gives us the chance to do what we’ve needed to do for a while and have been afraid to say out loud.”

“What’s that?”

“Call a time-out.”

Kate’s left shoulder spasmed. She tried not to show more emotion. So much for good times and bad. Richer and poorer. Sure, the boundaries on the parallel tracks of their lives may have been hardening of late, but Kate hadn’t yet defined herself as an ex.

“A time-out? I hadn’t been thinking in those terms. I’m not saying we’re not on a rough patch of road, but........”

Peter turned toward her for a moment, then back to his wooden tower. “I don’t know what I’ve been thinking, Kate. I can’t look at the kids without wondering if they’re blaming me for everything that’s gone wrong. The threats of suits over whether you pocket vetoed a bid are making me crazy. The call we had today—over a couple of hundred thousand dollars. A few months ago that was a rounding error.” He stopped.

“We can get through all that, Peter. If we both are committed to doing so.”

“You’re on your way up and I’m stuck in the slop. I don’t want to go to fucking Shouzhou, but at least it gives me a chance to salvage a little dignity. And by the time I get back you’ll either be running Drake or on to some other venture. We can figure out whether we want to start over then.” He scrolled to a picture of the plant where he’d be working. It was gray, dull, and uninspiring.

The only sound Kate heard was the slap of Mack’s basketball against the driveway. Is that what the end of a marriage was supposed to sound like? She rubbed her right arm to shoo away the goose bumps.

“Why are you asking these questions? Are you going to tell me not to go?” Peter asked.

Kate wasn’t certain she could. She wasn’t certain she wanted to. But she thought again of Mack’s Little League games without his father. Sarah’s concerts. An empty bed. Words weren’t coming to her. She was numb to the future.

“What’s that, Dad?”

Sarah’s voice startled Kate. She was afraid she’d heard too much of their conversation.

Neither Kate nor Peter heard Sarah come into the kitchen. She’d let her hair spill around her shoulders. She was in a red sweatshirt and jeans, white socks.

“Shouzhou, China, Sarah. It’s looking more and more as though we’re going to accept the offer to sell my company to the outfit over there that made the proposal.”

“Cool.” Sarah walked to the refrigerator. She took an apple and walked to the counter. She cut the apple into eight pieces on the cutting board in the middle of the counter and handed Kate and Peter a slice.

“Well, not entirely cool, actually. I may have to go there for a while to help get them up and running.”

“China? Can I come? I’d love to see the place.”

“I don’t think you want to live in Shouzhou for over a year, Sarah. For one thing, you don’t speak Chinese. For another, it’s closer to Inner Mongolia than to civilization.”

“A year? You’ll be gone for more than a year? Oh, Dad.” She put her arms around Peter’s neck. He used to carry her around like that when she was tiny. He raised his right hand and touched her fingers with his. Kate saw that Sarah’s eyes were wet.

“I don’t want you to go away for a whole year, Dad. It’s bad enough that Mom spends half her time somewhere else.”

Kate began scratching Sarah’s back. She didn’t want Sarah to break down because she wasn’t certain how she’d react herself. This was all too new; the idea of a separation from Peter suddenly all too real. And Sarah’s comment about Kate seemed like a criticism of the choices she’d made about her life.

Peter rotated in his chair and took Sarah in his lap. Not quite a little girl, not quite a woman, she folded herself into her father’s arms. “We’ll all be fine, Sarah. A lot of things have to fall into place before we’ll know for certain.” He brushed a stray hair away from her cheek. “And if I do have to go, think of what fabulous vacations you’ll have. You can fly all the way to Beijing. Or we can meet somewhere in the middle. Maybe Paris. And then before you know it I’ll be back and you’ll be complaining our vacations aren’t as much fun as they were when I was over there.”

Kate was buoyed enough by Peter that she jumped in. “And what about when we’re old and retired and you’re bouncing around from concert hall to concert hall on your world tour? We’re all going to have some very busy passports.”

Peter hugged Sarah. “Go tell your brother to wash his hands. All this talk about Shouzhou has made me hungry for dim sum tonight.” Sarah kissed Peter the way she did when she was a little princess and he was her king and then bounced away.

Peter swiveled his chair back and began shutting down the computer.

“You made it sound so easy, Peter. I’m grateful for that, at least, because the last thing I can deal with right now is to have the kids out of sorts.”

Kate sipped a bit more of her wine. She waited for Peter to say something supportive. How much he’d miss her. How he was certain she’d be running Drake when he got back. Silence equaled disappointment. “But I have to confess. The idea of your being halfway around the world is going to take some getting used to.”

SEVENTEEN

Kate was in Linz the following Monday. The air was slightly green and smelled of sulfur.

MK arranged for an interpreter to meet Kate on the top steps of the Old City Hall, a massive stone building with a huge turret and imposing clock. The girl was tall—all angles and legs and arms—with dark blonde hair, dressed properly for business in a plaid skirt and white blouse. She was holding a sign with the words
Kate Brewster
on it, as if she were Kate’s driver picking her up at the airport. In passable English, the girl introduced herself as Nina. She said immediately her fee was two hundred Euros for the day, cash. Kate hadn’t bothered to open the envelope MK gave her as she was leaving the office. She merely handed it over.

The city hall was quiet. The women didn’t know quite where to begin or whether the records they were after even existed. Nina asked a few questions of two or three people walking in the lobby. Nina would be a credible enough witness if ever asked under oath how diligently Kate sought out the truth, although Kate had long ago stopped believing this enterprise had either any truth or integrity to it. They eventually were directed to a room behind a drab gray door on the even more institutional and dank third floor east corridor. Three of the four fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling were dark. The linoleum squares whose edges had curled were too numerous to count.

A man greeted them. “Could you tell me, please, the nature of your inquiry?” The clerk was tall, wafer-thin, with a narrow face and an aquiline nose. He was dressed in a white shirt and black tie. He carried himself stiffly. Despite the air of pomp, his fingernails and the ridges on the tips of his fingers were coated with grease, as though he’d spent the morning working on a car. His clothes smelled of kerosene.

“Although I am advised you came from America for the sole purpose of visiting this office, I do not understand why you are seeking records for a family of which you do not appear to be a part.” He looked at Kate as though she were a thief.

“Brewster is my married name.”

“Do you have evidence I may examine that your maiden name was Hirsch?” The man continued when Kate said nothing. “We have privacy concerns to consider.”

Her bluff would take Kate only so far. She was holding no cards if he called her bluff.

“I have information about a valuable piece of art that may belong to the Hirsch family. I am trying to find someone with whom I can make contact, which is why we’re seeking birth records. It’s a form of genealogical research, but with the purpose and intent of returning goods that may have been taken from this family.” She asked Nina to translate so there could be no question the clerk understood the supposed nobility of their purpose, but every word of the lie filled her mouth with sand.

“Our records are incomplete.” The man plainly intended to cut the conversation short. “They will not be helpful to your effort.”

“Whatever data you have will be most useful, I’m sure.” Nina sensed Kate was at sea. She spoke without being prodded.

But Nina’s effort got them nowhere. The clerk left both women at the counter. He disappeared into an office to their left. The door shut.

“He’s not going to help us,” Kate and Nina said almost together, but with little choice but to play out the hand they’d been dealt; they sat on a bench near the door. Nina took a James Salter novel out of her purse. Kate bent her head and closed her eyes. She was too exhausted and too unwilling to catalog the foolish choices she’d made to end up in this position. But matching that was the absurdity of having come all this way only to be shut out by some petty bureaucrat.

Nina began to hum while she read.

It was hard to tell whether a minute passed, or an hour. The hallway seemed to spin at first and then all was calm.

Another clerk, a woman who identified herself as Ingrid, and who seemed a little older than Kate, approached them. She asked in German if they needed anything. Nina told her they were waiting for the clerk to come out of his office. Ingrid said she had overhead their conversation and understood what they were looking for.

She spoke directly to Nina, who translated for Kate. “I appreciate what you are going through. Every now and then someone will come here, looking for information about a relative. It’s always the same. No one ever helps. I wish I could do something for you, but I am powerless. My job is to move paper from one pile to another, nothing more.”

Nina asked if there were any other sources of information. Ingrid said it would be of no use to check with the postal authorities. “For years after the war, my mother worked as a postal clerk. Her job was to dispose of mail addressed to families which had fled of their own accord or had been taken away. The letters were from relatives desperate for any small bit of information. Many had been sent years before the family left Linz. My mother always said the letters were like the light from a distant galaxy.”

The woman waited before speaking. When she finally did speak, her voice was soft. “Am I allowed to ask why you’re really here? I overheard what you told Oskar. I’ve read about battles over the ownership of art and any number of other objects stolen during the war, but I’ve never heard of anyone offering to give something back without a challenge. Is that truly your purpose? If so, I would be honored to be part of that effort.”

First Chloe and now Ingrid. Both had assumed Kate’s purpose was legitimate. Kate smiled, to show her gratitude for Ingrid’s concern, but said nothing. Ingrid retreated inside.

Oskar emerged from the closed office before Kate could explain her purpose. “The office is closed until fourteen hundred. Please vacate the premises.” He left them standing outside the door. He turned the handle to be certain the door was locked from the hall and headed toward the stairs. The two women listened to the echo of his footsteps.

Kate remained seated, her coat draped over the side of the bench until Oskar’s footsteps on the stairs assured he was out of earshot. “What a bastard. It would have cost him nothing to have helped us. Nothing. Jesus, I would have paid him a bribe if he’d only asked for one.” Nina said nothing and Kate continued. “In fairy tales, the gatekeepers at least let you cross if you answer a riddle. Here, we had no chance to bargain.”

Kate fished the train schedule out of her purse. She preferred to head back to New York without spending a night in the room MK reserved. Nina began saying her goodbyes.

The door opened. It was Ingrid. She looked around to be certain no one was watching them. “I must apologize for Herr Warren. He feels he’s fallen down on the job if he actually helps anyone not from Linz.”

Kate was grateful, at least, for Ingrid’s acknowledgment of the futility of her effort.

“I wanted to check my records before speaking because the name Hirsch sounded familiar. I was able to verify that a little over a year ago another woman came asking about the same family. She was from Spain. She gave me her card. I’ve written her information down for you. Please don’t tell anyone where you received this information.” She handed Kate a piece of paper.