Chapter 17: Third Interlude

Our trip to Culpeper was a very relaxed affair. Whilst Alfred and Wilbur still had strong misgivings about the whole excursion, casting me dark looks ever so often, the women were a-giggle for most of the way, whispering excitedly about which stores to visit and in the end they asked me how it should be done so nobody would know about the presents beforehand.

"Well, we will have to do our hunting separately, of course. This is part of the fun, hiding your intentions and goals from each other. We should agree on a time and place for meeting up again and then split, using great cunning to avoid everyone. Knowing Wilbur, he will suggest we meet in a pub, a bar you call it here I think."

"Bert, at last you are making sense. Took you long enough, though. How much time will you guys need? One hour, two at the most, I should imagine. We should be on our way home by lunchtime. Good."

The girls would not have it of course.

"No, Wilbur, forget about that. You cannot rush us. If you are finished early, good for you. Have a drink somewhere. But you will have to wait till we are done with our shopping and that could take all day."

More giggles and a synchronised groan from Alfred and Wilbur. I just shrugged, knowing they would eventually catch the spirit too. Alfred even had a little street map for me, with a restaurant marked by Wilbur.

"We will have to have some lunch. Might as well be there. It is a bit touristy, but quite nicely furnished nevertheless. I thank the gods that I do have my little flask here. Recently topped up: 32,999 refills to go. Half of that, if Bert insists on his finder's fee."

We had reached a central parking ground and Alfred told us to button up and get going before we froze to the spot. I felt very strange in my unfamiliar outfit, hat, boots, woollen underwear, heavy fur-lined parka.

"Bert, will you be alright on your own? This town is not all that large but a country yokel like you might manage to get lost even here."

"Wilbur, you should remember that Christmas is supposed to be the time of peace. It's the remaining 363 days when you can give free reign to your inborn nastiness. But you guys get moving now. I have some urgent shopping to do. See you later. Don't disturb my circles. Have fun."

I trundled off happily towards downtown, marked clearly on the map. The spirit was with me strongly. I liked them all, very much so. Better friends one could not hope to find. Shopping should be immensely pleasant.

One of my minor vices has always been my inability to stick closely to any pre-conceived plan. I intended to walk the main streets first to see what was on offer but got thrown off the track immediately when I spotted the sign of an antiquarian bookseller in a side road. My second vice is major however. I have never been able to resist a bookstore, especially an antiquarian one.

"Good day, sir, may I be of help or would you rather browse undisturbed?"

Baffled, I looked about me but could not see the owner of the voice.

"Oh, you won't see me up there, I am afraid. Here I am, way down, he, he."

As indeed he was, not quite a midget but getting close. A dapper little man, dressed neatly in what looked like a boy's suit with a ridiculously large red bowtie. Jewish and quite old by the looks of his wrinkled face.

"My apologies. Good day to you and yes to both questions. I would like your advice before I get lost in your beautiful shop. I am looking for a few titles."

"Well then, I suggest we sit down so I can listen to your wishes. It will also put us on the same level, give or take a foot or so."

We sat down in a very neat corner of the shop, easy chairs arranged around a small table, with just a tiny wedge of the sidewalk visible through the plate-glass front window.

When I told him what I wanted he got very excited and jumped off his chair.

"Wait here. I will bring some tea for us and then I will show you what I have got in your lines of interest. It will be a big surprise, I promise you."

Within a short while he came back, proudly bearing a heavy silver tray with a silver teapot and old boneware cups and saucers. There was a bottle too, cutglass, with an almost black liquid. Alright already, I thought, steeling myself inwardly against this total onslaught of hospitality.

"Please, would you pour the tea? I will get the books I want to show you. Won't be long."

Not waiting for my answer he disappeared amongst the rows of shelves and left me to do my familiar duty here as well. I filled both cups and asked him whether he used sugar.

"No, no, no. We don't want sugar. And the cups are too full. Drink off a little. Careful, it's very hot. But then we shall add this lovely brew to it to make it more palatable and invigorating. Please tell me that you are not teetotal. It would spoil the day for me."

I took a sip of tea and told him to go ahead. Proudly he showed me the bottle.

"I can tell by your accent that you are German. But what I have here is from a rather more removed country. Here, take a little whiff and tell me what you think."

He pulled the glass stopper and held the bottle under my nose. I did not even have to guess.

"Rigas Balzams. Now you have made my day."

The man's eyes got big as saucers, his hands started shaking, nearly dropping the bottle.

"My word, you do know it. Have you been to Riga? So beautiful a city. I was born there, but my parents left after first the Russians and then the Germans started to bother us. But no matter, I am quite happy here. You know that this balm is much too potent to drink pure, but heavenly in tea or coffee. So enjoy it while you tell me what you think about my little collection here."

I was shocked to my core when I saw what he had come up with for my gift to Wilbur.

"Please, do tell me that this is a reprint, a facsimile, because the original I could never afford. I could not even find it in German."

"Oh yes," he chuckled merrily. "It is a reprint. And it is still quite costly. But let's not worry about that right now. Have some more tea and see what else I found for you."

His selection was excellent: A fancy yet shamelessly kitsch edition of How to Cook Everybody's Goose, just the right thing for Sabreena. It told in great detail how to select, kill, gut, pluck and prepare a goose, using earthy, humorous language and even more direct, very saucy illustrations with lusty kitchen maids, machine engraved woodcuts, on how to deal with the doomed fowl. Magic.

For Lexa he had found something especially exciting. A set of five small volumes bound in dark blue half-leather, all pristinely conserved in a slipcase, containing essays on education and teaching by Pestalozzi, Bodelschwingh the Elder, Rudolf Steiner, Mathilde Ludendorff and Maria Montessori. I looked at him questioningly.

"Yes, sir, a most unusual little assembly. Check the scant imprint. You will find that it was published privately by persons unknown. If your friend wants to be a teacher, she could not get a better grounding. There is no date given but it must have been printed in the early fifties. A collector's dream. Of course, they would never have bothered to include Alexander Neill of Summerhill fame, a resounding failure by any standard."

With a deep sigh I picked up the first book again, The Art of Papermaking by Maurice de la Lande, a late 19th century reprint of De la Lande's exhaustive monograph from the 18th century. A treasure for Wilbur, but most assuredly beyond my means, certainly when I took the other books into consideration as well. I told the gentleman of my dilemma in plain words.

But he just laughed and told me that I hadn't yet looked at what else he had found, pointing to a rough, unbound stack of dusty typed sheets, held together with rusty staples: A Government print-out of all immigrants to the USA from Germany and Eastern Europe in the 20th century, complete up to the year 1980. I was stunned speechless. Alfred's parents had to be in there somewhere! Invaluable – yet the cheapest of the lot. More tea I had to have and more fortification before I could even begin to estimate how much I would have to pay for these prizes.

"Please tell me your price, sir. For all of them. They are exactly what I had in mind, but you surpassed my wildest expectations."

"Well," he said apologetically. "These are very nice editions, with the exception of the statistics of course, so I could not let them go for less than 200 $."

I nearly had tea, and fortifications, spewing out of my nose.

"You must be jesting, really. 200 $. This is ridiculous."

The man was taken by surprise. "But..."

"No buts about it. That price is much too low. I would have expected to pay that for the De la Lande alone, never mind the other treasures."

Now it was the bookseller's turn to almost fall off his chair – just as well his feet did reach the floor, barely.

"You are mad; it's you who is acting ridiculous. Forty years I have this shop. Forty years and I have never heard of reverse haggling at an antiquarian bookstore. Please, you must have some more tea, more Balzams and think again."

But I was adamant. I would not take advantage of him, just because he was taken in by the cosiness of the situation. He got very cross and poured himself another cup. Not much tea left, so lots of Balzams went into it.

"You are a fool indeed. But since you insist, just pay me what you want. Then I must ask you to leave my shop. I have to lay down to give my heart a chance to rest."

I paid him 400 $, and still felt bad about the transaction. He hefted the bundle without counting and asked me quietly. "You must tell me one thing. Why do you behave like this? I have to know."

I looked at the man, his tiny figure in its proper suit, his large head with kind, intelligent eyes, little white tufts on his ears, and told him my version.

"Look, I know you do not celebrate Christmas of course and neither do I, really, being pagan, but there is something about the spirit of the whole thing, that stuff about people of goodwill coming together which gets my attention every year. Very much so, even if it does not last all that long. But could we not share some of it today? You offered me very good advice and outstanding books, your kind hospitality and your Balzams. What else could I contribute but this stupid money, since I am in Culpeper only this one time?

"The people for whom I am buying presents are very dear to me. I am enriching myself with the joy of finding these books for them. That's all there is to it."

He stared at me for a long time. "People of goodwill, eh? You wait here, sir, I will be right back."

I had finally progressed from sir to fool and back. He hopped off his chair and hustled to the back of the room, leaving me to fondle the beautiful books, imagining how they would be received tomorrow.

Suddenly I had to duck deep down. There, his face pressed to the window, was Alfred, peering into the shop. Damn, what to do now? Perhaps I was saved by his threshold fear or it could be the shop looked too dark and uninviting. He did not come in but the man was back beside me.

"Here, take this with you. You are right, goodwill is something precious. Now go away, I do need to rest."

He had spoken gruffly and handed me a small parcel, sloppily wrapped in what had to be the most-recycled gift wrap of the world, faded angels busily shaking barely discernible bells against a backdrop of withered mistletoe. I did say the man was old?

I bent down to him till I was on his level and shook hands with him. "I will treasure this visit and my friends will treasure your books. Many thanks, sir, you take care. A pleasure meeting with you.

"A word of warning, though. If you do keep your shop open today at all, there might be one or two buyers coming through here. Both of them odd in one way or other. Be prepared and have the balm handy. Good day."

Now to head back into the real world and throw Alfred off my track. All was clear when I left the shop and made my way to the restaurant. I found it easy enough and could see Wilbur holding forth with grand gestures. Lexa and Sabreena made for a captive audience but a few of the other patrons were also listening in, shaking their heads in wonder.

"Ah, there you are, Bert. If not for you we could have left ages ago. We are all finished, except that now we seem to have lost Alfred. Shame, we will just have to muddle along without him. Do order something nourishing for you. The drinks are quite good, the food edible."

"Sir, our food is as excellent as are our drinks." The waiter spoke with great conviction. "This gentleman has already ordered twice and may yet be back for more. Here, our menu. What would you like to drink?"

"No need for a menu. I will have a steak, rare, if it is on and a draught beer, large and of a local brewery if possible."

No problem, everything was well within the scope of this fine eatery. I was told to relax.

"Bert, Wilbur caused us so much embarrassment wherever we went. He would not leave us alone for a moment and distracted the sales people with his wayward behaviour. And we are not finished with our shopping by far."

"Yes, Bert, please, if you have found everything you need, keep Wilbur company here. He has been nothing but a nuisance to us. From now on we want to enjoy ourselves."

I promised Sabreena that Wilbur would be safe with me but that we might visit a few of the other places of sustenance, liquid and otherwise, just to pass the time.

"Yeah, Bert, you are making sense here. The expedition will be a cultural one, we shall compare the old against the new. Ha, this may take us longer than your shopping spree!"

The girls excused themselves while I was still dealing with my steak. Wilbur had been right after all: it was edible but quite ordinary. The beer was good though and we told the waiter that we might be back later. Funny that he should act less than enthusiastic.

We locked our parcels in the truck and explored unencumbered. Strolling through town was pleasant and informative. Wilbur used street names as reference to tell me some history, not without caustic remarks about that, in his eyes, most stupid of wars, calling Lincoln and his northern cronies a bunch of sanctimonious hypocrites, since he got voted into office by promising not to start a war. We did have some drinks in various establishments but spent most of our time watching Alfred's antics. During lunch I had mentioned spotting Alfred from within the bookstore and they had been much intrigued as to what he was up to. When we found him after a quick search, still ducking stealthily into and out of shops, Wilbur had the idea of hiring a couple of boys, rough looking subjects but young enough to be harmless, to 'shadow' Alfred in a way which should not be too hard to spot, we in turn following the shadowers at a distance. This should cramp Alfred's style a bit and give us something to do for the rest of the afternoon. They grabbed the money and set off happily. We followed leisurely, quite amused by their ham acting.

I relented eventually when I thought Alfred had earned a rest.

"Wilbur, why not give Alfred a sporting chance to do his shopping in peace now?"

"Bert, he had his sporting chance and he used it. Did you not notice that we are being led to very unsavoury sections of this town? He must have turned our misfits with great wads of cash. Now the fun starts for real."

He suddenly pulled me into a dark corner of an old building, making sure the two 'thugs' did not see us disappear. He had me duck into a side-entrance and told me to wait. He would show Alfred a thing or two about tactics and strategy.

Those smart kids were but momentarily out of their depth. When they passed our hiding place Wilbur jumped forth with a bark like a deranged baboon, grabbed one by the scruff of his neck and shouted to me to terminate the other outlaw with 'extreme prejudice'. And what was I waiting for?

I had to laugh so hard I could not contribute to the action. I just staggered out of hiding and told Wilbur to stop scaring the kids and not to watch the wrong movies on TV.

"How much did the subject under observation pay you scallywags to lead us astray? Have you no sense of business ethics, to take our good currency and then welsh on us? What is the world coming to if even hardened gangsters like you can be corrupted at the drop of a coin?"

"Mister, the guy you wanted us to follow talks the same crazy way you do and he looks exactly like your snow-top pal here. Except his hair is darker. He told us that you are up to no good and that you could not be trusted around minors. – In two days it will be Christmas, you perv, you should be ashamed of yourself."

With great alacrity he kicked Wilbur in the shins, squiggled out of his grip and jerked his mate away with him, laughing and yelling all the way. Hohohoho.

"Tactics, Wilbur, strategy? Those clever tykes had your measure alright. I wonder how much Alfred had to fork out for his counterstrike. But let's go for a drink. Shopping is a daunting task at best, more so now that you are handicapped. Or is that footicapped?"

"Bert, I do not know how those kids are being raised nowadays. No sense of values at all. And no respect for their elders. But you were of little help to my cause, you have no right to slander. I will have to go healing, my shins are hurting like hell."

With the afternoon drawing to a close we just had a quick drink before I remembered something. "Wilbur, all our presents have to be gift-wrapped. Did the girls buy fancy paper and tape, special ribbons and such? What about the electric lights for the large tree?"

"Let's just go back towards that fraudulent restaurant and meet the crowd. They will have to buy whatever is still needed. I had enough of shopping to last me a full year."

The three were waiting for us, enjoying hot chocolate with what appeared to be some reinforcement on the side. The girls looked excited and seemed to have enjoyed their spree immensely. And they had bought lots and lots of gift-wrap and all the trimmings. Alfred however was pensive when he greeted us, brightening considerably when Wilbur told of his tactical and strategic disasters with the budding Mafiosi.

"It's the time for peace and goodwill, not to be mired in crime. Those kids were extremely savy. It was they who offered themselves to be turned. For a small fee of course. They mentioned that they did not trust my look-a-like with the phoney accent and the stupid haircut. Should they report him to the police?"

Wilbur agreed, they should have. He told everybody that I just stood there laughing my silly head off while he was locked in battle at terrifying odds.

Now that shopping was over we were keen to go home. Alfred driving since Wilbur drew cheer from his flask and pretended to be sulking.

We talked very little but I did tell how much I had enjoyed shopping in Culpeper. When he heard that, Alfred searched for eye contact in the rear-view mirror, winking heavily. So he had visited with the bookseller after all. I wondered what he would tell me about that. When Sabreena and Lexa enquired which shops I had been to I claimed secrecy, with Alfred the cad going into a fit of hiccups. Quite the friend, that one.

Snow started to fall, wet stuff at first but more solid the nearer we got to the mill, and we were all ready to relax before the fireplace. The girls rushed off into the kitchen to prepare gluhwein, with Wilbur's assistance, who spiked the brew with vodka every time they were not looking.

"Wilbur, gluhwein, as the name implies, should make people glow with inner warmth not snuff them out altogether. Your potion is much too strong."

Alfred and I went outside to dress the tree. He did his stuff with his pocket unit, uprooting the tree gently so that we were able to drape the strings of lights from top to bottom. We had enough left to decorate some far-off shrubs in the background as well. After a bit of careful manipulation the tree settled back into the hole. The densely falling snow would make for a very nice showing within a short while if Wilbur would leave off his heaters.

Inside the smaller tree underwent heavy transformation as well. All sorts of tinsel and bees-wax candles, red ribbons and glass baubles went on together with some decidedly American stuff: gaudy Father Christmases with sleighs and laughing reindeer and such. However when I told them that the candles should not be lit before Christmas Eve, the girls were quite disappointed until Alfred told them to have a look outside.

That tree was a magnificent sight. Snowflakes danced lustily and reflected the many lights, the decorated shrubs in the background adding more magic. There and then it was decided that this tree would be an annual feature.

Wilbur's version of gluhwein was a stunning success in the full sense of the word. Sabreena wanted to know whether it had to be that strong, did we employ special stomach linings during the festive season, but lost her ability to articulate during the latter part of her sentence, ending in a helpless fit of giggles. After a few tentative sips Alfred confined himself to whiskey, maintaining that it was quite mild, even when undiluted, when compared to Wilbur's un-Christian concoction.

"Bert, what is the program for tomorrow? We want to make you feel at home here."

"Lexa, we will each have to find time to wrap our gifts in total secrecy. At home we used to polish all our copper and silverware in the afternoon, sampling cookies, chatting and gossiping while we were at it, listening to music. We can do that here too, if you like. Very peaceful and relaxing. And I would like to send an e-mail to Elise.

"If you wish that everything should be in style, Alfred would have to come up with a good catch of trout for dinner, or whatever fish is to be had this time of the year. With us it used to be carp, but Elise does not like the ugly monsters so we have trout. Traditions are different in each family. Some eat just a potato salad and a couple of bratwurst. We used to fast mildly during the day, eating only a fish soup for lunch, to make a big meal of dinner. And after that will follow the celebrations: lighting of candles, listening to some carols. We always put our gifts under the tree, but I think we can dispense with that here, handing them over personally instead. Will you be able to catch fish in winter, Alfred?"

"Yes, Bert, we can go out in the morning if you like. That pond where Wilbur wants to have his mill should do us. The fish goes to the bottom now but can still be caught if you know how to go about it. I will show you. You can write your e-mail now if you want, by the way. I put a laptop with Internet connection in your room."

"Right. Thank you very much, Alfred, I will write later. And I think it should be quite an experience to fish in snow instead of in summer heat like on the island.

"For the big Christmas dinner the choice is yours. We always had our goose roast, but if you do not want to go that route again you can start your own tradition this year, Sabreena."

"Oh Bert, I got a very fat, young goose today. The guy claimed that this one was the mother of all geese. I will try again. If I can sober up in time that is." More giggles.

"Sabreena, love, I think we should not attempt the mother goose after our calamity with the granddad of the flock. It should be safer to go with something the Colonel murdered already."

Not the right thing to say at all. When Sabreena got up to her full length and walked over to Wilbur, she was a daunting figure and he seemed to shrink into his chair under her scorching looks.

"At any other time, Wilbur my precious, this would have counted as a death wish and I would have felt compelled to oblige you immediately. As it is, I shall forgive you once more if you set the table, bring out our supper and be as quiet as possible for the rest of the evening."

"Yes, dear." Poor Wilbur was learning fast, suffering our chuckles silently and meekly.

We did not stay up late; shopping had taken its heavy toll on all of us.

Before going to bed I sat down to write to Elise, feeling like a heel for not having done so before. But what could I tell her? I did not want her to know that I was staying at the mill, certainly could not tell her what we had done. In the end I just wrote that I hoped she and the children were well, wishing them a pleasant Christmas together and that I would be home by New Year's Eve. About five lines of words and probably the most difficult I have ever written. Damn, damn, damn.

In the morning, Alfred became a strict taskmaster. He barely allowed me to have breakfast, claiming that the day was too nice to be wasted with stuffing myself. Wilbur was not to be seen.

"Bert, he got stuck into his wine quite heavily. I don't know what it is with him lately. He never drank that much before. After the holidays I will look for a place for Lexa and me. Maybe he feels crowded. I suspect he was at the island. Curing his hangover.

"By the way, I checked up on our friends. Everything is as well as could be. C. is still hanging in there. I think he may even survive, his work mates are treating him reasonably. His wife is going strong, the Peace Corps full of praise for her work. Payback was rather severe for the accountant. His rectal injuries turned septic; there is no hope for him. They expect him to die within a few days. The philosopher is unchanged: a mindless, harmless creature and not worth our pity. The rubble of the building will be removed in the new year. They could not find anything suspicious. We can finally forget about the lot of them. And good riddance I say."

The day was indeed beautiful. Not a cloud to be seen, about 10 centimetres of snow covering the ground, crunching under our feet, hoar frost adding glitter and glimmer in all colours of the spectrum.

"Alfred, when you do find a place for yourself it should at least be a little bit like this. Not another high-rise in a city. You and Lexa both are more suited to the open and would not do well cooped up, I think."

He just smiled and told me that they had already agreed that he would have to be near some fish water and Lexa wanted to be able to enjoy some country hikes but needed to be close to decent schools.

"She will have to commute of course. But it will be a small price to pay for what we have in mind. You will have to visit us too, you know.

"But here we are. It's so beautiful here I don't know how I could have lived in that crummy apartment in that filthy city for so long."

He proceeded to give me a big spiel about the art of fishing again, telling me how one had to find the right depth, the right kind of rig, bait and even hooks to be able to lure the fish. And he told me not to walk and trample around so much. "Stop spooking the critters, Bert. Go for a walk if you must. Contemplate your sins, all of them, but especially what you did to that poor old man yesterday."

I obliged him readily and left him to his chuckles and struck off cross-country. The silence was incredible, the only intrusion an occasional rumble of a plane far overhead. In this peaceful setting my thoughts turned once more to my wife and I realised that for her too this Christmas would be a rather dismal affair, even if she had the children for company.

Turning when I heard what sounded like my name being called I saw a small figure walking my way from the mill. Lexa going hiking. My morbid reflections disappeared immediately as I went to meet her.

"Hi, Bert, it is so lovely outside that I could not stay in the house. Actually, Sabreena was glad to see me go, I think, since the kitchen became rather crowded with all she wants to do. She was banging pots. I hope Wilbur will make his amends with her, she is worried about him and not only over his drinking."

"Yes, dear, Alfred chased me away as well. We are all strong personalities and we do need some breathing space now and then. But I am glad you joined me. This is going to be one day we all will remember fondly and a walk will do very well to give us the chance to settle down and get into the right mood for tonight.

"I was thinking of Elise just now, dark thoughts. But with you here I know that things will change and I feel better for it. But it has to be soon, before she is scarred."

She hooked her arm under mine and asked what I thought about life in the USA.

"Goodness, Lexa, I don't know anything about life here. I have been traumatised by New York and enjoy the best here and, yesterday, in Culpeper. You will hear more about that tonight. Alfred guarantees it. But you have not told me much about yourself. I don't mean to pry but would like to get to know you better."

She hesitated a long time, shuddering a few times, before she told me of her life, haltingly and with long silences.

"Bert, Alfred and I have not had ... have not slept together, even on the island, we just could not do it. I trust you not to break this confidence but I have to tell someone. I would have opened up to Elise eventually, I think, but now I cannot wait. Our jokes and the fun we have often feel hollow to me and I know that Alfred is suffering too.