Anna embarrassed insists “I’ll be fine just as soon as my ears pop.”
She gestures for them to lead on, her mind scrambling. Holmes is Jewish? Holmes is a rabbi? Who is this lovely vision? It can’t be Uncle Vanya. Maybe Aunt Vanya…? No! Could it be Lady Banks up close and personal? What am I doing here?
Walking through the threshold, she spies hidden in the rafters of the doorframe a mezuzah. Her thoughts scatter like a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle as it empties from its soft cardboard box. Her first impression is that things don’t seem kosher.
Inside, the stranger busies with their coats. Anna looks for clues. Standing side by side, Holmes and the stranger could be kin. They seem to be the same age. They are of the same stature. They have identical Caribbean blue green eyes. But there is one striking difference the stranger has a full head of wild strawberry blond hair with ringlets of gold and silver.
Holmes relieves Anna’s overzealous imagination and makes the introduction, “Harry, I am pleased to introduce Anna. Anna, I give you, Harriet Vane Holmes.”
Anna’s eyes pop, her mouth gapes. Holmes remarks, “Harry, you’ll have to excuse Anna. She was expecting Heidi.”
In her defense Anna replies, “No umm…I mean umm…you see I was expecting Uncle Vanya!”
Holmes teases, “She tends to stammer on introductions. She did likewise with me.”
Harriet warmly embraces Anna with light brushes of kisses to her cheeks and adds, “Welcome.”
Harriet turns to Sherlock, “Rebbe, you are a dog.”
Back to Anna she asks devilishly, “Did he tell you that you were coming to see Uncle Vanya?”
Anna comes back quickly, “He did and Holmes you are a dog.”
Harriet looks askance at Sherlock and explains, “This is Uncle Vanya.” She raises both arms to embrace the ice palace and its surroundings. Anna gets it. As usual, she assumed more than she should have.
Harriet escorts Anna to a long white platform settee. The interior furnishings are ethereal in sparse white duplicating the exterior. The rectangular settee with its clean low lines sits but a foot off the ground. Its back extends the length of the couch with one open end. It sits squarely in front of a large white sandstone fireplace framed in white tiles with white marble hearth. An inviting fire crackles therein. Tongues of fire play off the high copper chandelier.
Harriet insists, “Be comfortable. Get warm first. Rebbe, help me in the galley.”
Holmes goes along, “Harry, have you heard anything from Mycroft?”
Anna follows Harriet’s orders and takes a seat in front of the fire. The radiant heat from the fireplace returns a bit of color to her face. She studies her surroundings. There is a definite feeling of coziness, even intimacy within the mammoth stone construct. The floor plan is fluid and versatile. Platform stairs long and low in design, resembling an igloo, flank either side of the center hall. They appear to lead to lofts. The right loft area sits above the galley kitchen/dining area. Anna surmises that it must be the lady’s boudoir. The left loft must be a bedroom, she guesses. But it is the grandeur of nature that makes the Great Room truly great.
Acquainted with the physical surroundings, Anna turns her attention back to the mysterious Harriet. She contemplates silently. Why did Holmes keep Harriet a secret? Is she his wife? Surely he would have said. Maybe they are divorced. But the resemblance is so uncanny. She could be a sister.
Not capable of sitting still for any length of time, she joins the duo. The cooking/dining area is twenty feet long with an uninterrupted view down the hillside. Anna admires the long eight-foot white Formica dining table with its matching chairs. The kitchen itself is a long slim galley tucked behind a horseshoe bar. The counter top is made of white soapstone. Sparse is the fashion in this space too. A white face microwave and a small white refrigerator below the counter complete the integrated design. She laughs inwardly thinking that the galley resembles a Mattel Toy Kitchen. She concludes that Harriet must live alone.
Harriet pours a simmering deep burgundy drink into a festive ceramic pot. Holmes takes up the tray and the three walk the few steps into the main living area in front of the fireplace. All three gravitate to the settee. Harriet takes her place between Sherlock and Anna. She pours the hot brew into a mug and hands it to Anna. Looking intently into Anna’s cocoa eyes, she asks with mirth, “So what’s your first impression? I just love first impressions!”
Anna quickly stifles a ‘not kosher.’ She stalls and says awkwardly, “Surprise, yes, I have to go with that. The country, the town, Uncle Vanya’s and you are happy surprises.”
Holmes winks at Anna, “Didn’t I say that Lausanne is a place of surprises?”
Anna nods yes and sips the warm, mild and soothing concoction.
Anna doesn’t want to be the center of the conversation so she changes the subject quickly, “What is this sweet drink? And why do you call this place Uncle Vanya‘s?
Harriet answers, “The drink is Swiss. It’s called pflumli, a variation on prune juice.”
Now Anna recognizes the sweet taste of plums. Harriet turns the cup in her fine boned hands and continues, “The ceramics are Swiss as well. They are from a relatively new pottery house named Bopla. Don’t you find them a refreshing improvement over the typical Heidi & Swiss Chalet theme?”
Then Harriet bounces up, “As for the name Uncle Vanya, it’s all too silly. Come with me.”
Anna and Harriet move to the rear of the center hall. Through the majestic glass wall, Anna sees that there are no neighboring homes. Harriet directs her sight.
“You see that poor soul standing alone out there?”
Anna replies, “You mean the tree standing on the hillside, apart from the mythical and magical bois?”
Harriet explains, “Yes, it is our treasured cherry tree, a gift from our mother. She brought it back with her from a trip to Russia. She told us it was a gift from our Uncle Vanya. Dad planted it on the edge of the forest hoping that a cherry orchard would grow. Since that time the place has been called Uncle Vanya’s.”
Anna looks from Harriet to Sherlock and asks, “So there was an Uncle Vanya?”
Sherlock smiles. He is about to explain but reconsiders. He lets Harry have the stage. Harriet answers,
“In all probability the tree came from one of the orchards below in the valley. Mother, you see, loved mystery. She could spin a yarn from your very breath.”
Sherlock adds, “According to mums, Uncle Vanya and his family were Russian Jews who escaped the pogrom with only two items, the cherry tree that you see out back and the mezuzah on the front door.”
Anna’s first impression alters to ‘very kosher.’ She asks, “And Rabbi Sherlock… are you …?”
Harriet answers with a loving eye on Sherlock, “Mums again. She gave him the title rebbe when he was but two years old. It stuck. She saw before we did that he had the heart of a man of wisdom.”
Anna agrees, “It’s true. He is divinely inspired.”
Uncomfortable in the spotlight, Holmes gets up and announces, “Rubbish!” He blushes as he makes his way to the galley,
“I am going to prepare the house specialty for brunch, Kosher Rostiz.”
Anna asks immediately, “Can I help?”
Harriet answers, “No, explore the place. The powder room is just beyond.”
Holmes adds, “I’ll bring Harry here up to speed on your project.”
Anna takes the opportunity to explore and freshen up. She opens doors and peeks about the two lofts. With the savory aroma of onions in the air, Anna returns to the duo busy in the galley. She asks, “Now may I help?”
Harry replies merrily, “Chef has everything under control.”
Holmes follows in the same spirit of mirth, “Almost there Watson.”
Anna examines the large eighteen-inch cast iron frying pan. Her nose recognizes the fragrant aroma of sweet onion, salted butter and freshly grated potatoes. She comments, “Umm yummy hash browns, my favorite.”
&nb
sp; Holmes, with a close eye on the progress of the potatoes, corrects Anna.
“I’ll have you know, Watson, these are not your ordinary American hash browns. These are gourmet Swiss”
Anna poses an inquisitive look and asks, “What makes them Swiss?”
Holmes answers, “In a moment you will see. Harry ...the gruyere… s’il vous plait. “
Harriet hands him a fragrant wedge of hard Swiss cheese and asks, “Eggs, Chef?”
Holmes barks, “Six will suffice.”
After grating heaps of Gruyere atop the potatoes, he presses six hollows into the mixture. He gently whacks an egg and carefully lets it fall into the potato and cheese hollow. Giving Anna a cursory look, he notes, “If you coax the egg from its shell, it will cook and taste much better.”
Anna thoroughly amused comments, “Why Holmes, a knack for eggs as well?”
Holmes strides to the side and announces, “I give you Rotiz, Switzerland sunny side up, as I promised. Grab a plate.”
The hungry trio retreats to the sitting area in front of the now gently burning fireplace. Harry carries a tray with mugs and coffee. Anna observes quietly Holmes fussing over the individual place settings. Next, he surveys the fire. And like all men, he must add another log. Brunch time conversation details the wonders of Switzerland, Lausanne and the village of Belmont sur Lausanne.
Harriet proudly informs Anna, “Lausanne’ is proud to boast a Green mayor.”
Anna responds, “How very progressive!”
Harry slouches back on the settee. She pushes her plate of food a few inches forward to keep from overindulging. She scratches her ear somewhat like a petite kitten. She cocks her head to the right, all by way of collecting her thoughts. She bites her lower lip. Finally she says,
“Progressive, maybe, on one hand, we are out there, for example, our movement toward legalized marijuana. On the other hand, the Swiss are much like their beloved Alps, hard and rigid. Culture and attitudes are fossilized and frozen here, believe me. Did you know that Switzerland did not grant women suffrage until 1971? And I don’t want to get started on the issue of guns. While there is a lot of lip service decrying the ethics and efficacy of a standing army, almost every house has not only a gun but also a stocked bomb shelter. And while the Swiss are predominantly European, they will never be EURO.”
Anna asks, “European Union? They are not part of the union? I never realized. Why?”
Holmes chimes in, “Ah Watson, it’s a matter of the famed Swiss bank account.”
Anna is still in the dark. Harry fills her in, “If the Swiss were to join the EU they would have to play by their rules, namely full disclosure. And that’s not likely to ever happen.”
Harry turns to Anna and comments, “I see that Lock has taken to calling you Watson. It was Mr. Holmes favorite pet name for Mrs. Holmes. I haven’t heard it since his passing.”
Anna thinks ‘so she is a sister. That’s one mystery solved or is it?’
With the conversation back on him, Holmes gets up to clear the dishes from the milk glass table before them. As he moves off, he calls, “Anna, look outside.”
Anna gets up quickly not wanting to miss anything. Secretly she hopes to catch sight of a bear or at the very least, a reindeer. She delights in seeing that it has begun to snow.
She trumpets, “Oh the first snow, come on, let’s put our footprints in the virgin snow. As youngsters, we imagined that snow was the frozen feathers that fell from angels’ pillow fights.”
Holmes wants to reach out and touch her to feel the excitement that springs within her. He refrains knowing that it will dampen her spirit. He urges them to go for a walk in the forest. Harriet motions Anna to the mudroom. She gathers up a pair of mukluks, wool socks and gloves.
She goes on, “How about this marvelous cashmere balaclava? Or better yet, try this ski mask. I’ve found that the sinuses need extra care and attention at our age.”
Anna gladly dons the ski mask and offers her appreciation, “A thousand thanks.”
She sees that Holmes is busy with the washing up in the galley, “Come on Holmes. The dishes can wait. I promise that I will wash up when we come back in.”
Holmes, his hands covered in warm suds, replies, “You lasses go on.”
The two women dressed to the nines in cashmere, silk, fleece and down waddle out to the new world through the rear glass doors. Anna lifts her head toward the heavens, allowing the soft new snow to lace her eyelids. Harriet points out a trail through the woods. A shiver runs down Anna’s spine as she reads the worn and faded trail marker; ‘Lady Banks.’ Immediately she thinks that Harriet must indeed be Lady Banks! She wants to ask but is too scared.
Harriet leads on, “We’ll go through the forest where the air is richer.”
Anna follows on her heels. They walk quietly and reverently into the bois. Anna finds that the air in the forest is indeed sweeter. After a time Harriet asks, “Shall we talk about why you’ve traveled thousands of miles to the snowy tundra? Lock tells me that you don’t look kindly on Lady Banks. Shall we start with that?”
Anna kicks up the snow with her toe. She stretches her hand out to catch the gently falling flakes. Looking behind her, she sees that the path is disappearing fast as the falling snow sticks. She doesn’t know how to answer Harriet. Should she tell her that uncovering the secrets of Lady Banks is not how she envisioned her retirement?
Harriet rephrases the question, “What troubles you the most about Lady Banks’ story?”
For a very brief moment, Anna images Harriet seated in a hunter green leather winged club chair with pad and pencil in hand and she, herself, reclined on a matching chaise covered in tissue paper. Anna is about to ask Harriet if she is a shrink. Instead she answers Harriet directly, “It’s depressing.”
Harriet continues to move deeper and deeper into the bois. She sighs. Her breath freezes in the chilly air. She goes on to say, “It is that. I’ll let you in on a little secret of mine. When I turned fifty, I made a promise to my self that I would see life for what it is, not as I wished it to be.”
Anna hears in Harriet the soul of Sherlock. She asks, “Does that work?”
Harriet answers, “I think so. I may be a mere shadow of my old self, but I am no longer afraid of my shadow.”
Anna just mutters, “Wow.”
Harriet eager for Anna to stay with the story adds, “Before you dismiss Lady Banks, be sure of this, as we explore the backwoods of this land, thousands of women are trapped in a lie.”
Anna replies, “And you think an expose will be their saving grace?”
Harriet accepts Anna’s forwardness, “Who’s to say?”
Anna acknowledges Harriet’s point. She goes on to the next issue.
“Harriet, do you think Lady Banks’ tale is something people will care to know?”
Harriet is quick to answer, “To be perfectly honest, I am not sure. It has a lot going for it. It has the elements of a lively psychological thriller. And at the very least, its point of reference is fresh, the spy’s wife. As an expose, it has the requisite titillating accents; spies, lies, sex, drugs and alcohol. The ribald sells.
But in reality Lady Banks’ story is a moral fable, if you will. It reveals that the good guys are far from good. If one young thing sees the wolf in sheep’s clothing then it works for me.”
Anna admits, “I get slam the sham. I just wonder if Lady Banks’ character is too flat, one-dimensional, shallow even. The reader could very well walk away seeing only the foolishness of a duped girl rather than the nefariousness of the community of spooks. I don’t think that she is the stuff of books. She has no context.”
The hairs on the back of Harriet’s neck bristle. Her whole being stiffens. She mulls over Anna’s words. She is reluctant to challenge them. An ominous silence falls over the two women. However, the stillness of snow falling on the forest floor settles her jittery soul.
Anna, on the other hand, feels her back stiffen. Her inner demon chastises. Why are
you being so callous? Why the resounding dismissal? Is it that you fear that Harriet may reveal more than you want to know?
That last question challenges Anna. She surprises herself, yet again, when she hears her next words to Harriet,
“But if you will allow, I retract any and all judgments of Lady Banks. I was suffering temporarily from continental drift. I came here to listen not to judge.”
Harriet stops abruptly, scoops up a fistful of snow and hurls it in Anna’s direction and says, “Don’t let the snow job of a con man scare you. Let’s begin. Let’s start with context.”
The two seniors take up walking again with new gusto as they forge the first trail in the virgin snow. Harriet claps her arms around her torso shaking the snow from her parka. Her voice is the only sound of life in the deep of the forest. She speaks softly and calmly. She begins with acknowledging Anna’s distress with the plight of Lady Banks,
“Anna, you may never be comfortable with Lady Banks’ story. This is not a ‘once upon a time’ and ‘they lived happily ever after’ fable. But it has fable qualities. The story is about a masquerade. Everyone wears a mask, everyone is in disguise, and everyone pretends to be someone else, everyone that is except Lady Banks.
And as in every fable, this story is about youth and innocence. It’s about black magic, spells and magic potions.”
Anna stops short and asks, “Black Magic? No one said anything about black magic!”
Harriet continues to walk. She gestures for Anna to catch up.
“Aye, but they did speak of psych ops, correct?”
Anna shuffles her feet to get in step with Harriet’s pace. She nudges Harriet’s side and says, “Oh I like where you are going with this. Go on.”
The Christmas Pudding Lie Page 23
