Grantville Gazette Volume 27

by edited by Paula Goodlett

  "They're buying it," James named a price. Andy whistled. "So everything I don't need to start the next one is sold."

  * * *

  Back at the hotel's kitchen James tagged along when the manager plopped the two and a half pounds of almost blue cheese on the counter in from of the chef.

  "It looks funny." The chef sneered as he stuck his finger into it and then into his mouth. He nodded, smiled, and said, "It's mild, but tangy. Did the courier arrive?"

  "No. James had this."

  "Well, find out where he got it and get me some more of it for next week. This is going to be so much better to work with."

  The manager looked at James who shook his head. "Two months," James said.

  "Well, send a rush order to wherever it comes from."

  "I made it," James said. "'Twill take six weeks to two months to make more."

  The chef's eyebrows went up. "You made it?"

  James nodded. The chef actually smiled. "This is good. In six weeks, I want five pounds. After that I want five pounds a week every week. You can do this, yes?"

  "I can pay retail for it," the manager said.

  * * *

  Summer became fall as it does once a year. School was back in session. Andy screwed up his courage and took his tray to the table where the boys of McAdams Mining held court each day in the cafeteria. It was a rare day that one or more of their fellow students did not have a scheme to propose. The gang of four would usually listen and usually say, "no, we haven't got that much money."

  No one was really sure how much they had. The rumors ran all the way from, "They're just working for Lyndon Johnson in his mushroom mine," or "They found a treasure down there and the Abrabanels' have it invested for them," to "Those four boys could buy half of Grantville if they wanted."

  Andy had no idea one way or the other. But he did have an idea about how to make some money, and they were the ones who could make it happen. He waited while the gang of four argued about the mushroom mine.

  "Yes, it will take a long time to recoup the cost. But if we put in shelves we can double or triple production," Ebert said.

  "I'm not sure Lyndon will want to spend the money. He likes a steady cash flow," Ludwig replied.

  "If he's not willing to invest and expand then we should buy him out," Ebert said.

  "That is not right, Ebert," Ludwig said. "He's been good to us. Mushrooms were his idea. We wouldn't have the mine without him."

  "This is business. It's a matter of principle. A business must grow or it will die," Ebert said.

  "Ebert, I'm in the same business class as you are," Ludwig argued. "Don't you think you're getting a little carried away? The mushrooms are doing fine. Besides he wants way too much to sell out."

  "If we can double or triple the volume, it isn't too much to buy him out."

  "And there is a limit to the market for fresh mushrooms. We'd have to dry them and that is even more space and time," Paulus said.

  "Time is money." Ludwig continued his argument over business principles with Ebert.

  "Especially when we have money sitting idle. We need to do something with it," Ebert answered Ludwig. "We've got to expand. If we don't expand, then we're stagnant. A living company needs to be growing."

  Then Ebert answered Paulus, "We can sell them to a canning factory."

  "Ebert, I wish you hadn't taken that business management course. There is absolutely nothing wrong with having money sitting in the savings account. Besides we can only sell mushrooms to the cannery in season," Paulus countered.

  "Un-uh," Ebert squeaked. "Dietrich will keep canning as long as he's got something to can." Deitrich and his wife were running a small canning operation out of their kitchen. "We should take a lesson from that. We have got to keep expanding. If we double our output he can run a batch of mushrooms a day. Otherwise they can add mushrooms to just about anything. Momma said she saw a jar of meat and mushroom gravy on the grocer's shelf. Dietrich will buy them. He already buys up anything our vendor has left each day down at the market."

  Andy waited for a break in the discussion before he interrupted. It was pretty much the same argument the gang of four had been having for over a week. This was why he had finally screwed up his courage and decided to bring his idea before the bar. "Excuse me," Andy said.

  The conversation stopped and every head at the table looked at him.

  "If you've got room in the mine, I know what you should do with it." The other boys waited. People at nearby tables quieted down also. A retired teacher who was subbing that day saw it happen; he called it "an E.F. Hutton moment" and laughed even though no one else seemed to get the joke.

  "Bleu cheese," Andy said. "Our housemate is making it in the refrigerator. One head of cheese a week. He says in Scotland they do it in caves. He buys the cheap heads of white cheese and six weeks later he sells it as bleu cheese. Have you seen what the grocery store is getting for it? They have it brought up from France. If we can cut out the transportation costs and get the price down, there should be a large market for it."

  "Tell us about it," Peter said.

  "What's to tell?" Andy asked. "He buys a cheap head of cheese, does something with it, and waits six weeks. Then he sells it to the Holiday Lodge where he works." Andy sought to drive the point home and close the deal, so he repeated, "Have you seen what they're getting for bleu cheese at the grocery store?"

  Ebert's face lit up and his head started nodding.

  Paulus looked thoughtful.

  Ludwig asked the practical question. "What do you get out of it?"

  "How about a job?" Andy asked. "Get James to set it up and hire me to work it."

  "Give us a bit to talk about it." Ludwig said.

  "Sure, I can do that," Andy said and smiled. The four of them never said yes without talking privately it about first. If one of them said no without a closed discussion, that would pretty much settle things. The gang of four did not work by majority rule; nothing happened without consensus, even if three of them had to gang up on the fourth to get it.

  * * *

  When James woke up that afternoon, Andy was waiting for him when he got out of the bathroom.

  "Mister Lamont, I've got somebody waiting to talk to you."

  "What about, Andy?"

  "Cheese."

  Paulus and Peter were doing homework while waiting at the picnic table in the back yard. There wasn't any dining area in the kitchen—you cooked your meal and took it outside or to your room.

  James recognized the boys as two of four fellows who took turns bringing fresh mushrooms to the hotel's kitchen every morning. Signing for them was one of James' jobs if the boys happened to be too early for anyone else to take delivery.

  Peter did not waste any time. "Mister Lamont, Andy says you can make bleu cheese. He also says you're doing it one cheese a week. We want to talk about going into business and exporting cheese here in Germany. We have a cave, and we have startup capital. We can pay you what you're making an hour at the hotel or you can work for ten percent of net."

  James looked the boys over. "Fifty-fifty seems fairer."

  "Only if you put up half the capital," Paulus said.

  "I don't have it," James replied. "Forty percent."

  "Mister Lamont, we have room in the mushroom mine."

  The boys leased the abandoned coal mine from the government. Mushrooms didn't do as well down one side tunnel where Old Man McAdams once kept his still and aged his whisky.

  The boys thought it was because no breeze moved the spores around down the dead-end side tunnel, unlike in the main shaft that opened on two ends on a high face of a cliff left by the ring of fire. The four of them had been arguing for months about what to do with or about that side tunnel. It was tearing them up. The only thing they all agreed on, until now, was that they needed to do something with the space. Now, bleu cheese looked like the perfect answer.

  "We have the room, and we have the capital. Andy has seen you make it, so we can figure it ou
t if we have to. But we are trying to be fair. We'll pay you ten percent of net, or we'll pay you your rate at the hotel for hours actually worked, but you'll teach Andy everything you know. So when you go back to the army we still have a cheese master. It was his idea so he deserves something out of it."

  "My hours and ten percent." James said.

  Peter closed up his homework and started to leave.

  "My hours and five percent?"

  Peter stopped. "Your hours and two and a half. We've agreed to give Andy whatever we give you. It was his idea so he deserves something out of it. He has seen what you do. Do you really think we can't make this work without you?"

  "Deal." James said. "Would you like to see it? Then we can talk about what we need to get started."

  "Sure. Why not?" Paulus said.

  * * *

  And so the famous McAdams' Blue Cheese was born . . . fathered by a French mold on German curds, accidentally midwifed by a skinflint Scotsman who didna want to pay retail, and nurtured by young opportunists whose sole interest was making money.

  * * *

  Water Conservation

  Written by Ray Christiansen

  It might be said truthfully that in those days the young limbs of two branches of that great tree that is the House of Hapsburg were joyfully entwined.

  —from The Flowering of a New Kingdom: The early reign of Ferdinand and Marianne in the Netherlandsby Carolus van Loon, University of Antwerp Press, 1702.

  Queen Marianna strode quickly and triumphantly through the hallways in her home at Brussels. As they approached her suite in the royal apartments, she waved off her escorts, and bestowed a particularly warm smile on the young guardsman who opened the door to her suite for her.

  When the door closed behind her, she spied a lone maid curtseying before her, and said, "Oh get up, Annette, and congratulate me. It was a fabulous victory! And in straight sets, too! You should have seen me fly across the court. I was magnificent today!" She carefully placed her tennis racket on the bench near the door and began dancing around the room.

  Annette rose and replied, "Indeed, your majesty. That is marvelous, but I wondered why you were gone so long."

  "Not so long as all that."

  "But, you and his majesty do have a state luncheon today with the burghers, guild masters, and university rectors. The cardinal and his sister will be there as well. I am sure you must remember."

  Looking around, the young queen saw the formal court dress lying on the bed, and asked, "And Susanna is . . . ?"

  "Waiting for your command. I am to fetch her and the others at your return."

  "I don't suppose I have time for a bath before I need to dress?"

  "I think not, Your Majesty."

  "Oh well," she sighed, "before you go, please help me out of my tennis costume and into a robe. I am quite warm and need to cool off before I get into all that." She pointed toward the elaborate gown and its attendant layers of clothing.

  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  * * *

  As Annette knelt to begin untying her tennis shoes, Maria Anna removed her hat and let her mind wander. She thought again about missing the bath she'd been hoping for.

  When Fernando saw the way the improved sanitation edicts inspired by the up-timers had saved lives inside the city during the siege of Amsterdam, he had issued decrees governing cleanliness and sanitation throughout the whole of his new kingdom. He had also thought to lead by example, and brought a team of up-timers from Grantville to install a very modern bathing chamber in the royal apartments while improving the plumbing in the palace.

  She remembered the seemingly endless weeks of workmen moving walls, laying in pipes and drains, the nuisance of finding new quarters for some of the servants as the boiler and cisterns were inserted into the attics, and the construction of the very clever pump house. There was, however, the very rather peculiar suggestion of Herr Swiger's that their "Dutch mansion" would look "cute" with a windmill to run the pumps while they waited for the steam engine to be delivered and installed. Even she knew that a good team of oxen would be more dependable than the wind.

  Her times relaxing in the very regal bathtub that had been installed had only been made more pleasurable by the gift of some scented "bubble bath" solution from one of the ladies in the Essen trade delegation some weeks back. Court gossips insisted that they "knew" she bathed for hours each day. In truth, she only indulged herself once or twice a week, if her schedule permitted, and she nearly felt like confessing to a sin, but she couldn't think of one that applied. Besides, she did get clean in body and relaxed in mind each time.

  * * *

  As she mused on the wonders of the finished bathing chamber, another thought occurred. Of course, the showering cabinet that Fernando somehow preferred to the bathtub.

  "Annette, I would have time to take a shower, wouldn't I?"

  "I suspect so, Your Majesty, if you didn't take too long."

  "Excellent! Fetch my showering cap and help me cover my hair."

  Quickly opening a wardrobe, Annette returned with a rather large, plain bonnet whose only benefit to the wearer was the fact that it was waterproof. Working together, the two soon covered the queen's hair and tied the several tapes and ribbons to close the cap close to her head.

  "This will be the perfect solution," the queen said, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

  Seeing her court dress reflected in the glass, she asked, "Was my nosegay delivered while I was out?"

  Annette looked around quickly, and in a worried tone, replied, "No, my lady. I hadn't noticed that it was not here."

  "Well, I must have flowers to carry that match the flowers on the banqueting tables."

  "Yes, Your Majesty. Shall I send . . . ?"

  "No, you must go yourself. Go to the chief steward and ask where my flowers have gone to, then go get them from, well, wherever they are, and bring them here as quick as you can."

  Seeing her young maid's hesitation, the queen gave the girl her warmest smile and said in a low voice, " Please, Annette. I know that the steward can be a bit of a tyrant, but you are going at my command, and, besides, I trust you to find my flowers and make sure they are correct and arranged the way I like them. Now, do me this favor, and hurry, please, and bring them back for me."

  "But Your Majesty, I need to help you get ready for your bath."

  "No, I am quite able to finish undressing and putting on a robe by myself. Now go, fetch the flowers, please, and bring Susanna and the other maids and the ladies-in-waiting back with you."

  "Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you, Your Majesty," the girl burbled as she tried to bow, open the door, and back out of the room, all at the same time.

  As the door closed, the queen chuckled to herself and continued removing the last of her tennis garb, donned light slippers and a robe, and walked through the suite to the bathing chamber door.

  * * *

  When she opened the door, she was surprised to hear both the sound of cascading water, and of a light baritone singing a rather improper song. Off-key. In Spanish!

  Stepping in and closing the door, she drew herself up to her full height, cleared her throat, and in her best imperial tones declaimed, "Stop wasting all the hot water, you Spanish oaf!"

  The sound of water (and singing) abruptly ceased, the shower cabinet door opened, and a rather handsome head topped by a showering cap not too unlike her own popped out, and its owner said, "Why, good morning, my dear. How was your tennis match?"

  "Don't 'my dear' me," she replied with a stern look that was spoiled by a half-smile. Tapping her foot, she continued, "Time is short, and I simply must bathe before we greet our guests. Oh, and yes, I won."

  "Congratulations, love. I, too, had a most successful morning."

  "Nonsense. You were probably lounging about all morning."

  "Not so. I spent the morning honing my martial skills at the Academy, and the masters praised my growing abilities and devotion to training."

  "Th
e only reason they asked you to join was so they could have a royal patron, and have someone to pay for the trophy swords and awards for the next tournament."

  "That may be true in part, but I do need something to do on those mornings you go off to play tennis and I don't have pressing kingly duties to attend to. I do sometimes miss our morning walks and rides together. But more to the point, the Academy masters teach fencing in the Spanish style that I learned at my father's court, and I enjoy fencing with opponents who see me as a fellow student or as an apt pupil and not as a king or commander, just as some of your opponents and partners see you as an equally talented player and student of the game."

  "Very well, I surrender. Your exercises are as important as mine, but please hurry, Ferdy, and do save me some of the hot water."

  With a mischievous smile Fernando eyed his wife's robe-clad form, and suggested, "We could save some time and water if we showered together."

  Taken aback, Maria Anna thought for an instant, and then with a dreamy smile looked over her shoulder to make sure she had closed the door. Before she could turn back completely, a rather imperious voice ordered with a chuckle, "Come, wench. Your king commands your presence within."

  With a broad smile she quickly removed her slippers and robe, rushed into the shower cabinet, and shut the door. Shortly, the room was filled again with the sounds of cascading water, along with some giggles, a slap, and some other low, indistinguishable sounds.

  Soon, her soft voice might be heard beneath the sound of the water, "You know, Ferdy, we will be terribly late," followed by the equally soft reply, "Yes, my love, but think of the water we'll be saving."

  * * *

  Later that evening in his own quarters, the chief steward of the palace reflected on a most satisfying day over an excellent glass of hock. The state luncheon was the highlight of course, but under his steady direction and keen eye for detail, all went off smoothly, despite a flurry of interruptions. The only flaw was the delay in starting, but the king and queen could, of course, be a bit late, and needed to offer him no explanation.