by Ellin Carsta
ALSO BY ELLIN CARSTA
The Secret Healer
The Master of Medicine
The Draper’s Daughter
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2018 by Ellin Carsta
Translation copyright © 2019 by Gerald Chapple
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Previously published as Die ferne Hoffnung by Amazon Publishing in Germany in 2018. Translated from the German by Gerald Chapple. First published in English by AmazonCrossing in 2019.
Published by AmazonCrossing, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and AmazonCrossing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781542042284
ISBN-10: 1542042283
Cover design by Shasti O’Leary Soudant
Cover photography by Richard Jenkins Photography
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
About the Author
About the Translator
Prologue
Looking around the table and at the seemingly happy people chatting over that day’s dinner, he smiled contentedly. Though everyone lived in the villa, it was not a given that they would take their meals together. But today everyone was gathered in Peter Hansen’s honor: Georg and Robert, his two eldest sons, along with their wives and children, as well as Karl, his youngest son, who at twenty-nine still hadn’t managed to find a wife, let alone start a family—which caused Peter some worry. At times he thought maybe something wasn’t quite right with Karl.
His gaze fell on fourteen-year-old Luise, his youngest granddaughter. He couldn’t explain why Robert’s second daughter was the dearest of his three granddaughters. He didn’t quite know how to deal with her sister, Martha, two years her elder, or with Georg’s daughter, Frederike, the same age as Martha. Even his grandson, Richard—the only male descendent so far—was for him merely his son’s son. Richard was seventeen, and his parents wanted him to graduate from high school a year early. Hansen doubted his grandson could do it. He saw him as a young man lacking in ambition, who must certainly have some talents, though his grandfather was unable to discern what they might be.
Frederike and Martha resembled their respective mothers too much for his taste; the girls felt that their purpose in this world was to lead a comfortable life at the side of a wealthy husband who would support them financially.
His own wife, Marie, had been cut from a very different cloth. During their almost forty years of marriage, she had been more of a partner to him, until an illness spirited her away two years ago. Not a day had passed since then that he hadn’t contemplated her meaningless death and his now equally meaningless life.
He surveyed the room again, only vaguely following the conversation. He put down his silverware, removed the linen napkin from his lap, and stood up holding it in his hand.
“I would like to thank you again for finding time for me on this day. It means a great deal to me. Now, I ask you to excuse me.” He laid the napkin on the table and walked slowly to the door. Passing Luise, he paused and gently stroked her cheek. His granddaughter smiled and nuzzled against his hand. A moment of indecision, and then he continued on his way.
He felt his family’s questioning gaze as he closed the sliding door behind him. He calmly climbed the stairs to his study. After closing the door, he leaned against it for a moment and took a deep breath. He considered this room the most beautiful in the house. Marie had furnished it with her impeccable taste. If only she were here! Everything would have turned out differently—of that he was certain.
He took out a sheet of paper printed with the company letterhead and laid it before him on the desk. Peter Hansen & Sons. Coffee Merchants since 1850. He smiled. The curved letters seemed but a wonderful, slowly fading memory. He picked up his fountain pen and searched in vain for the right words. Then he placed the pen on the sheet of paper, took a deep breath, and opened the bottom drawer. Taking out a mahogany box, he set it on his desk, closing the drawer before opening it. The pistol was cushioned on a bed of red velvet. It felt good to lift it and place it to his temple. He saw the loving face of his wife before him as he pulled the trigger. Peter Hansen’s life ended on his sixty-fifth birthday—with a loud bang.
Chapter One
Hamburg, 1888
She’d lost track of the time. Mother would be frightfully angry. Luise hurriedly placed the bunny back in its hutch and closed the little wooden door. She came here more often since her grandfather died. She missed him so very much! She quickly wiped the rabbit hair from her pale-pink dress and brushed away the dirt its little paws had left. She really should wear an apron when she held the bunny. Her mother had scolded her often enough. She was sure to be punished, and not only because of her dress.
She threw a parting glance at the three rabbits. Only one of them was hers, the white one with black spots. She’d named it Caesar. The others belonged to Martha and Frederike. Grandfather had given them to the girls three years ago, cautioning them to take good care of the animals. Cousin Richard had received one as well, but after a few days, it was dead in its cage. Luise didn’t know the cause of death. She would have cared for it; the other girls hadn’t evinced the slightest interest in their responsibilities. Luise was grateful for the present and sincerely delighted with the rabbits, but the other two girls seemed to find them a burden.
Just a few days after making the gifts, their grandfather had summoned them to his study and warned them again, individually, to take seriously the responsibility they bore for the little creatures now in their hands. The next day Richard’s rabbit died. Luise was reluctant to connect the animal’s death with Grandfather’s rebuke, which had obviously annoyed Richard. But if she was honest, she got chills remembering how Richard had delighted in the creature’s sudden demise.
Luise ran as fast as she could along the path to the villa, gravel crunching beneath her soles. Then she tripped, twisted her ankle, and fell onto her knee. Pain shot through her whole body. She struggled to her feet and wiped the bloody cut on her knee. A bit of gravel was stuck in the wound; she picked it out, forcing herself not to scream or burst into tears. With a little spit on her finger, she tried to clean her knee, but the blood and spittle mixed with the dirt, making an even bigger mess. Luise felt sick to her stomach. Not from the pain or the blood, but because she knew what to expect from her mother’s “disciplinary measures,” as they were called.
Luise thought about sneaking into the house and running to the bathroom. Maybe her mother wouldn’t notice, and she could at least clean up her wound and mak
e herself somewhat presentable. But she rejected the idea: it was too late to look like a proper girl from a good family, with her dirt-stained dress, her bloody knee, and her mussed hair. She could expect at least five afternoons under house arrest.
She ran up the five steps to the towering villa with its white and sunshine-yellow trim. Luise loved the house she’d lived in with her family since she was born. She took a breath and pressed down on the latch, pushing open the heavy wooden door. There was no one in the vestibule, where she’d expected her mother would be waiting for her. Voices sounded from the dining room, and Luise took a few steps, near enough to hear Uncle Georg talking. Her father responded, but she couldn’t make out his words. She drew herself up, knocked, and poked her head through the partly opened door after hearing her uncle’s “Come in!”
“Please excuse me for being late, Mother.”
Her mother waved as if shooing a fly.
“Not now, Luise. Go upstairs with the other children. Wait until you are called.”
“Yes, Mama,” Luise said meekly, ducking her head and closing the door. Her heart was beating wildly. The tension in the room was almost tangible. She had seen her parents; her uncle Georg and aunt Vera; her other uncle, Karl; Dr. Lampert, the family lawyer; and a man she’d never met. What did it mean?
She ran upstairs to the room she shared with her sister. Martha sat on her bed, Richard and Frederike opposite her on Luise’s bed.
“There you are,” Martha said. “Whatever happened to you?” She pointed to Luise’s bleeding knee.
“What’s going on downstairs?” Luise asked, sitting next to Martha, who didn’t answer.
“We’re broke, that’s what,” Richard replied with a sarcastic smile.
Frederike poked him in the ribs.
“You don’t know that.”
“But I heard it. Lampert said so.”
Luise swallowed hard. She couldn’t believe that they had run out of money. How was that possible? And what would that mean for the family?
“Who’s the other man downstairs?” she asked.
“His name’s Reidel, from the bank,” Richard said.
“It still doesn’t mean anything,” said Frederike.
Luise gave her sister a questioning look, which elicited a shrug.
“All I know is what we heard. Something about Grandfather’s estate and how it’s to be divided up.”
“If there’s anything left to distribute,” Richard argued. “That’s why the old man blew his brains out.”
“He did not!” Luise protested immediately. “Grandfather had a heart attack while cleaning his gun, and it went off.”
“You’re such a silly cow.” Richard rolled his eyes.
“Mother told us that’s what happened, and I believe her,” Luise insisted.
“Believe what you want. But we were all there when he shot himself. Father told us not to tell the truth about it. But that doesn’t change the facts one bit.”
“I don’t think there’s no money left.” Frederike toyed with her braid. “Maybe there isn’t all that much money, but enough.” She swept her hand around the room. “Just look around. I could buy ten new dresses from the furnishings alone.”
“And why do you think that Reidel fellow turned up here right after the will was read?” Richard asked, turning to his sister and then to the other girls.
“But our fathers have been working at the office for such a long time,” Luise objected. “They would have noticed if there were business problems.”
“The old man kept a tight grip,” said Richard.
“Oh, our fathers will sort it out,” Frederike remarked blithely, just as there was a knock at the door.
“The ladies and gentlemen wish for you to come downstairs,” Anna, the housekeeper, announced.
“We’re coming,” Richard said, and they got off the beds.
“Could you just wait a minute?” Luise pointed to her knee.
“Yes, but be quick,” said Martha.
Luise rushed to the bathroom at the end of the hallway. She grabbed a towel, wet it, and wiped the blood and dirt from her knee as best she could. She brushed back her blond hair, adjusted her dress, and hurried out. The others were waiting at the head of the stairs.
“Thanks,” Luise said.
Their parents and Uncle Karl were waiting in the dining room. Dr. Lampert and Mr. Reidel were gone.
Georg Hansen invited them to sit down. As the eldest he had taken his father’s seat as the new head of the family.
They sank into their seats without a word, staring at Georg expectantly; he wore a three-piece suit, as always, and not a single strand of his dark hair was out of place.
“Your grandfather’s will has been read. He made some dispositions regarding personal belongings that are to be passed on to you. Your parents”—he looked over at Martha and Luise—“and Vera and I will see to it that the objects are collected in the coming days.”
“What’s with the money?” Richard asked unceremoniously, making his mother hiss angrily.
“Richard!” she scolded.
He shrugged. “One should be allowed to inquire at least?”
“Since you are not an adult, Richard, as you just demonstrated yet again,” his father reprimanded him, “you have the right neither to ask nor to expect an answer.” He looked daggers at his son. “We will continue to carry on your grandfather’s business. For the time being, nothing will change for any of you. That is the sum of what you need to know. Are there any questions?”
“Good.” He went to the door and called, “Anna, you may serve dinner.”
Luise, who had kept her eyes lowered throughout, raised them as she sensed her mother’s gaze.
“And what do you look like today, Luise?” Elisabeth addressed her daughter with an angry look. “Like some vulgar little girl—you ought to be ashamed of yourself!”
“Please forgive me,” Luise said submissively, lowering her eyes again.
“You were with those disgusting rabbits again, weren’t you?”
Luise nodded guiltily.
“I was feeding them.” She refrained from saying that she was the only one who took care of them, after all.
“Robert, those rabbits must go!” Elisabeth demanded.
“No!” Luise looked at her in horror. “Please, Mama, don’t do that! They were a present from Grandfather!”
“They’re the only thing from him they have left,” Robert objected.
“Just look at your daughter,” Elisabeth hissed at her husband. “She’s filthy. Not at all presentable.”
“Please—I promise to take better care,” Luise begged. Tears sprang to her eyes. She threw her sister a pleading glance.
“Let’s do keep the beasts,” Richard interjected. “If times don’t get better, we’ll at least have some meat for dinner.” He emitted a loud laugh as Luise blanched at the idea.
“Pay more attention to keeping yourself clean, Luise,” her father said—the only blond one in the family besides Luise. “Otherwise there will be consequences. The rabbits can stay for now.”
Luise breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank you, Father. I’ll be more careful from now on.” She peeked over at her mother, who seemed displeased with her husband’s decision, though she kept quiet.
“Richard,” Robert addressed his nephew. “Karl and I will be leaving for Vienna first thing in the morning on business. Your father would like you to join us.”
“Me? Why?”
“Your vacation begins the day after tomorrow. Missing the last day won’t kill you,” Georg suggested.
“But why go to Vienna?” Richard persisted.
“You must learn how business is done,” Georg explained to his son. “When I was your age, I knew more about the coffee trade than you, and about what to watch out for. It’s time you became involved with the logistics of the firm.”
Richard pouted. “But I want to recover during vacation. Why should I have to go from one kin
d of work to another?”
Georg took a deep breath and exhaled forcibly. He wished he could take his son to another room and give him a good talking-to, the way his own father had with him. But if he let Richard get away with his disrespect in front of the others, it could weaken his position.
“Recover from what?” he asked, raising his eyebrows ironically. “From an excess of learning? Not for you, given your poor grades.”
Richard stared angrily, seeming to weigh a rejoinder. His eyes met Luise’s; she shook her head almost imperceptibly. Richard’s eyes narrowed to slits, but he kept quiet.
“Good,” Georg remarked. “That’s settled.”
The housekeeper, assisted by a servant girl, brought in trays of various dishes, ending the conversation. Richard was obviously seething, but the subject was closed during the meal.
Robert, Karl, and Richard had been gone for almost five weeks, and the family longed for their return. School had begun two weeks earlier, but Georg had seen to it that his son was excused, arranging for Richard to make up the time by doing extra work when he returned from Vienna. Moreover he hinted at the prospect of a financial contribution to the institution—without any idea where the money would come from. He pinned his hopes on his brothers’ success. If they were to return empty-handed, he didn’t know how long Peter Hansen & Sons would stay in business. The mood in the household was tense—grueling for all its members.
Georg always walked to his office in the warehouse district, where the beans were stored and bagged. The offices were on the top floor of a redbrick building, and the smell of coffee permeated the place. Luise noticed that her uncle left the office earlier each day. And although she would have liked to see more of him, she worried about the anxiety inscribed on his face.
Aunt Vera and her mother, Elisabeth, grew closer, which made Luise all the more suspicious, because they had often fought bitterly before. If, after so many years of antipathy, the two women suddenly got along, Luise reasoned that they must be worse off than she expected, or than Uncle Georg wanted to admit.
At mealtimes when her uncle was usually absent, Vera, Elisabeth, Frederike, Martha, and Luise spoke very little; if something was said, it was always their collective hope that Robert, Karl, and Richard would be back from Vienna with good news soon. If that were not the case . . . nobody wanted to think about that, let alone discuss it.
