Elizabette’s eyes probed her daughter’s. “Do you love him, Liesel?”
That took her aback. “Of course I do, Mama. Why would you ask that?”
“He’s not particularly handsome, you know. His ears are too big. And he laughs like a donkey. Are you sure you’re not just after his money?”
“Mama!” Gisela could scarcely believe that her mother was actually teasing her. “I find him very handsome, and it pains me to hear you say otherwise.”
“So you are after his money. Good for you.” Then she smiled to let her know she was teasing her. “He is a good boy, Gisela. And that is enough. You have chosen well.”
Gisela shook her head. Bernhardt was thirty-two, six years older than she was, but he was still a boy to her mother. “I know, Mama. I will be happy with him. He makes me laugh.”
“Not many can do that anymore. Marry him quickly.”
“Won’t you please reconsider, Mama? How can I have a wedding without my mother being there? I’ll come and get you, and we’ll fly back together and ...” It was no use. She could already see the fear rising up behind her mother’s eyes. “Never mind. Bernhardt insists that on our way to our honeymoon in Thailand we shall come here first and tell you all about it.”
Elizabette’s eyes were instantly glistening. “No wonder you love him, Gisela.”
“I do, Mama. I’m very happy.” Then she laughed. “But the money is nice, too. You’ll never have to work again. We’re going to buy you a new house and—”
And just that quickly, Elizabette retreated into her shell again. Gisela took one last bite of egg, wiped her mouth with her serviette, and stood up. “It’s all right, Mama. I know you love your little house. And Lady Bremley would have my head if I took you away from them.”
“Yes,” her mother said after a moment. “She depends on me. They all do.”
“I know they do.” Gisela bent down and kissed her cheek. “I’ve got to pack. Thanks for breakfast.”
Schloss von Dietz, Bern, Switzerland
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Gisela Elizabette Decker von Dietz watched her mother as she carefully unpacked her single suitcase and began putting things in the closet or in the chest of drawers. And she marveled. Eighty-seven years of life, and everything the woman owned could still be carried in one suitcase.
But Gisela refused to be sad. After all the years and all the invitations and all the pleading, and after she had given up hope that her mother would ever leave England, it happened. Two weeks before, Elizabette had called and asked if there would be a place for her if she came to Switzerland.
Gisela had been so totally taken aback that for a moment she hadn’t known what to say. Then she had blurted out, “Oh yes, Mama. For how long?”
What followed utterly astonished her. After a long silence, Elizabette said, “If it would be all right, perhaps I might come to stay with you.”
Gisela had groped for a chair, suddenly blinded by tears. “Do you mean it?”
“As long as you can stand me.” Then her mother made Gisela laugh right out loud. “With Bernhardt gone now, I thought you might need some company.”
That was her mother. Bernhardt had died just over two years ago, but now Gisela needed company. More amusing, this was not about her needs, of course. It wasn’t about her being eighty-seven and growing increasingly frail. It wasn’t she who needed company. She was coming to help her little Gisela, the grieving widow. But that was all right. If that was what it took for her to leave the tiny circle of life that had defined her for more than sixty years now, Gisela would not question it in any way. It was, when she thought about it, absolutely stunning. And with it came great joy.
She stood and went over to help her. “Anina is driving in from Zurich tomorrow and should be here in time for lunch. She’s taking the children out of school. They are so excited to see you again, and to know that they will now get to see you more often.”
“And Niklas?”
“Niklas is in Paris at the moment. He’s leading a team from the bank working on a major acquisition. But he’ll be here tomorrow in time for dinner.”
“Leading the team? At his age?”
Gisela laughed. Her Niklas had turned thirty-five this year. “He is one of the senior vice presidents now, Mama. Bernhardt saw to that. He had Niklas sweeping out branch banks before he was ten. By the time he was fifteen, he was an assistant clerk. He also took a degree from Harvard in economics, and a—”
“Like his mother,” Elizabette broke in, pulling a face. “It’s sufficient to give one a sour stomach. Two economists in the same family.”
“And he got an MBA from Harvard in international banking. So he didn’t just skate into his present position.”
Her mother’s face softened. “Ah, Gisela. He is so like you. So bright. So quick to learn. I’m very proud of him. And Anina too, of course,” she added as an afterthought. “She is a sweetheart.”
“Now, Mama,” Gisela chided. “It is true that Anina was content to marry at eighteen and never set foot on a college campus. But don’t sell her short. She had the very good sense to marry one of the Richter boys from Zurich. The banking Richters of Zurich. Now the two families—and the two banks—are joined, and we have become Switzerland’s third largest bank. And seventh largest in Western Europe. So be kind.”
“I wasn’t being unkind,” Elizabette said tartly. “I am delighted that at least one of the family has something besides Euros and dollars running through her veins. And also, she does produce the most beautiful great-grandchildren in all of Switzerland.”
“She does indeed. And all three of them will be with her tomorrow.”
“Speaking of which, is your Niklas ever going to get married?”
“Oh,” she teased, “so it’s my Niklas now, is it? And this from the woman who has turned down three proposals of marriage and has been a widow now for more than sixty years.”
Just that quickly, there were tears in her mother’s eyes, and Gisela instantly regretted mentioning her father. That was really something, when you thought about it. After more than six decades, her mother still wept for the man she had lost. Gisela went to her and took her in her arms, and together they stood there, just holding each other and remembering.
They had dinner together in the villa overlooking the Thunersee (or Lake Thun) and the spectacular Swiss Alps in the distance. They spoke quietly of earlier times and of the hardships and sacrifices they had experienced. But as they finished their dessert and the servants began clearing away the dishes, Gisela learned the real reason why her mother had finally agreed to come and live with her.
To her surprise, her mother turned to the butler, who was standing back, making sure that all was being done in order. “Gerhardt?”
Interesting that she had remembered the name of the butler after being introduced to more than a dozen servants earlier.
“Yes, Madame?”
“Would you be so kind as to have someone fetch me the small briefcase from my room, please? It’s in the armoire.”
“But of course,” Gerhardt replied, flicking a finger at one of the maids.
As the girl left the room, her mother further surprised Gisela by standing up. “Would you mind if we retired to the sitting room? I have something I would like to show you.”
What she showed her stunned Gisela. No, more than stunned. It absolutely astonished her. When she finally looked up, her mother was beaming triumphantly. “Where did you get all this, Mama?”
Elizabette was instantly indignant. “That money you send me every month. You said it was mine to spend as I wished. What of it?”
“I don’t understand. You bought these somewhere?”
“No, you silly girl. I hired a top-notch security firm in London to do the research for me.”
That was even more shocking. Gisela had been sending he
r mother a thousand Euros a month for over ten years now, but she had never spent any of it as far as Gisela could tell. So she had roughly a hundred and twenty thousand Euros? That was a lot of money.
Her mother picked up the three manila folders she had earlier extracted from her briefcase and waved them in Gisela’s face. “I needed information. My time is running out. And after asking you for the last ten years to help me and getting no response, I decided that if I am to get any peace before I die, I will have to get it done myself. The Gauleiter was not the only one who needed attention.”
Gisela’s face flushed. “I know, but when Bernhardt learned about that, he went into orbit.”
Elizabette slammed the folders back down on the table between them. “Well, Bernhardt isn’t here any longer. So you’ll have to come up with a new excuse. You promised me that you would never forget, just as I can never forget. We have lived with the shame and the dishonor and the humiliation for all these years. Isn’t that long enough? Isn’t it time we finally did something so that when I meet my Schatzi I will not have to hang my head in shame?”
Gisela’s head lowered. “Yes, Mama.”
“Has all of this”—she looked around at the luxurious room—“made you soft? I understood while Bernhardt was alive. Well, Bernhardt is gone now. And still you sit and do—”
“I get it, Mama,” Gisela said sharply. “You don’t know what’s in my heart, so don’t lecture me like I was nine again.” Then, to deflect her mother from saying anything more, she picked up one of the folders and opened it. The top sheaf of papers had a black-and-white photo of a handsome man in the uniform of a German army officer clipped to the front page. She stared for a moment, not comprehending. Then it hit her. She knew this man. “Is that Captain Hoffman?”
“Yes, our deliverer. He is gone now, but this has all the information the security company has been able to find on his family.”
“Including that cold witch of a sister of his?” Gisela said, bitter with the memory of Katarina Schreiber, who had thrown the title of scullery maid in her mother’s face.
“Yes,” her mother responded with surprising gentleness, “including his sister.” She took the papers, removed the paper clip, and showed Gisela a color photo of a tall, stately woman standing beside a somewhat portly man. They had four children with them—a boy and three girls. The Swiss Alps were in the background.
“You have to remember, Gisela, her brother had just been thrown into prison because of what he did for us. Can you blame her for being angry?”
“Yes.” But Gisela didn’t really mean it. She knew full well that the woman could have refused to help them and left them to make their own way to England. But she had seen it through for her brother’s sake. “And so now, you’re going to punish her?”
Elizabette was dumbfounded. “Punish her? I have sent her fifty thousand Euros as a small token of our thanks. Anonymously, of course. And I hope to send her more.”
“You what?”
“Oh,” her mother snapped back, “don’t act so shocked. You said it was my money to do with as I chose.”
Reeling, dazed, Gisela picked up another folder, the thickest of the three. On the tab were two German words: Gerechtigkeit endlich. Justice at last. “And what do you plan to do with these?”
Her mother reached out, quick as the strike of a cat’s paw, and grabbed the folder from her. “Never you mind. Since you no longer have the heart for this, I shall take it up with your son.”
Niklas von Dietz was a man of the world in about every possible way that phrase could be interpreted. He knew people often said that of him—occasionally in his presence—and he never corrected them, because it was true.
As the only son and primary heir of Bernhardt von Dietz and Gisela Decker von Dietz, he had been lavished with attention and pampered with luxury from the day he was born. He did not consciously consider himself superior to others; his exalted status was so deeply ingrained in his nature that he took it for granted, just as he took breathing for granted. Prodigy. Gifted. A financial genius. Mature beyond his years. These were all words and phrases people used to describe Niklas, and he took them as his just due.
He was strikingly handsome. Six foot three inches tall. Long, wavy, light brown hair brushed straight back without a part in it. Broad shoulders and flat stomach. Wide-set blue eyes, high cheekbones, and firm jawline. In manner, he was deceptively pleasant, with a smile that could charm a stone gargoyle into life. But underneath, there was this powerful energy emanating from him. Some even called it ruthlessness. Even men much senior to him acknowledged his natural leadership ability and tolerated his meteoric rise through the banking house of Von Dietz Global Financial Enterprises.
Since English was the language of world commerce and business, Gisela and her husband had spoken English in the home as well as German. With perfect ease, Niklas could switch between English with a distinctly Lancashire accent, English with a Boston Yankee accent, and absolutely impeccable German. And since Switzerland had three official languages and required all students to study at least two of them, he was also fluent in French and Italian and could converse to some degree in Spanish and Dutch.
Many a mother and grandmother in Europe’s most prominent families were scheming tirelessly to find ways to bring their daughters to his attention. He was surrounded by some of Europe’s most beautiful women, and he enjoyed their company, but he never got close enough to have even once been engaged. Much to the disappointment of his mother. She was sixty-eight now and wanted more grandchildren. Anina and her husband had made it clear that three was enough for them.
All of this was playing in Gisela’s mind as she watched her son going through the stack of papers and photos one by one. When he finished, he straightened them into a neat pile, then put them back into the folder and stacked it on top of the others. He looked up. “This is amazing. I can’t believe how much information she’s gathered.”
“And that’s all you have to say?”
He shrugged. “What do you want me to say? I’ve already told Granny that she needs much more than this if she hopes to accomplish her purpose.”
“Such as?”
“Well, for example, this doesn’t have current addresses for everyone. You should also know what their financial circumstances are. How many family members are there? How close are the family ties? Where does the family live? What do they do for recreation and entertainment? Do they have little secrets we can use to our advantage? Do they—”
“I get it, Niklas.”
He tapped the folders on the desk. “But I don’t think we need to spend a lot of money just to humor her.”
“To humor her?” The tartness in her voice brought his head up. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“I ... well, you surely can’t be serious about her plans.”
“Why can’t I? Maybe it’s time.”
He was genuinely alarmed. “Mama, stop it. This is craziness. Granny is an eighty-seven-year-old woman who is obsessed with the past. Don’t encourage her in this. You can see how frail she is.” He glanced over at the grandfather clock, which showed nearly ten o’clock. “I mean, look at the time, and she’s gone to bed already. She used to outlast all of us.”
“All the more reason to delay no further.”
He jumped up and began pacing. “Would you put the assets and the reputation of Von Dietz Global Financial Enterprises at risk? Ruin everything your husband and his father and three generations before him created?”
When she said nothing, he threw up his hands. “Think of Anina. Think of your grandchildren, Mama. Would you risk bringing shame on them? On us all?”
“Now you’re being ridiculous, Niklas. You know I would never do that.”
“Then—”
“But I’m with Granny in this all the way, Son. You need to understand that. She’s right. This wrong has gone u
nanswered long enough. There has to be restitution. It has to be made right to maintain our family’s honor. But Von Dietz Financial is part of our family heritage too. So I give you my word that I will never jeopardize that in any way, not legally, not financially. There will not be one Euro taken from the corporation’s books. Nor will it involve Anina and the children in any way, shape, or form. They will remain totally innocent of this.”
“Well, thank whatever gods there may be that there is some tiny semblance of sanity left in this family.”
“Don’t get cheeky with me, Niklas. You forget yourself.”
He backed off immediately, but he was still agitated. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” he muttered. “From Granny, yes. But not from you.” Then suddenly he was up again, too worked up to remain seated. “Why now, Mama? Why after all these years? Why this sudden urgency?”
“You know the answer to that. First and foremost, your father wouldn’t hear of it while he was alive. Not any part of it. You saw his reaction when I took action against the Gauleiter. After that flaming battle between us, I promised him I would do nothing more. Not while he was alive.”
She got up and went to him, taking both of his hands and turning him to face her. “Now, it’s Mama I am dealing with. I made promises to her, too. Years ago. And she’s come here to hold me to them, Niklas. Why do you think she finally left England? That is an enormous sacrifice for her, as you know. Do I just ignore all that?”
“She’s eighty-seven. She’s not got that much longer. Just stall her.”
Jerking her hands away, Gisela glared up at him. “While she was still in her teens she moved into a house like this. She knew nothing but wealth and comfort and luxury. Like you, Niklas. And then it was all ripped away from her. You think about that. You have never known poverty. You have never known hunger. You have never slept between anything but silk sheets. Everything you have, everywhere you go, anything you do, you are swathed in luxury and privilege. Only the finest for our Niklas. Well, try to imagine having all of that ripped away from you and spending the rest of your life scrubbing floors as a kitchen maid.”
To Run With the Swift Page 3
