by Andrew Grey
"Dieter,” Mark started to say as he pulled a stool up to a rudimentary table that lined the side wall, “I know we were a bit mysterious when we talked earlier, but I thought this was something we should talk about privately.” Tyler pulled up a chair as well, and Mark set Dieter's grandmother's photo album in front of him. “I have a few questions for you that I hope will confirm my suspicions."
"What is this about?” Dieter asked, placing his hand on the album. “And what does this have to do with Gram's pictures?"
"I'll explain everything I suspect, I promise,” Mark told him, and Dieter nodded, his eyes focused on Mark.
"Did your grandmother ever tell you the names of her parents?” Mark asked him, and Dieter could tell he was quite excited.
Dieter opened the cover of the photo album, turning to the page that had the picture he wanted. “Gram said their last name was Meinauer. This is Gram's dad, Joseph, and this is her mother, Anna. That's Gram sitting between them."
Mark's excitement seemed to ramp up, and Dieter saw him glance toward Tyler. “Did she ever tell you what happened to them?"
"Gram said her mother died after she'd been sick for a while. After that she said her father wasn't the same. She told me that when she was about twelve, her dad came to her after she had already gone to bed and told her to be very quiet. She said he led her through the house and out the servants’ door. They got into a car and made their way through the streets. She told me her father took her out of Austria just ahead of the Germans. Gram told me stories of how they survived in Switzerland during most of the war. She said they were lucky because her father managed to take some of his wealth with him, at least enough that they were able to live during the war. Her father died still in Switzerland after the war, and she came to the US where she met Gramps."
Mark appeared to listen intently. “Do you know who this is in this painting?” Mark pointed to the one hanging on the wall above them in the picture.
"Yes. That's Gram's mother. Gram said she was a real socialite and spent a lot of time with artists and writers. Gram said her mother had commissioned that painting for her father. But it was lost in the war,” Dieter explained, remembering how Gram had said that everything from her family was gone except these pictures. “She told me that these photos were in the bags her father packed when they left Vienna. Why?"
Mark seemed to get more excited and pulled out a heavy book from the stack on the table. “Does this look familiar?” Mark turned to a page with a piece of paper in it, letting the book fall open.
"That's...,” Dieter stammered as he looked at the full color plate and then back at the photograph in Gram's album. “That's her. That's Gram's mother.” Dieter could hardly believe it. “But Gram said it was gone."
"Maybe gone to her, but the painting survived,” Mark explained. “This painting is entitled Portrait of Anna and is by a very famous Austrian artist named August Pirktl. I looked through your photo album, and I was able to identify four other paintings by Pirktl in the backgrounds. All of these paintings are in the Belvedere Museum in Vienna.” Mark closed the book. “Dieter, you need to know that Portrait of Anna is also known as The Lady in Blue and is world famous. This painting,” he said, pointing to the photograph in Gram's album, “is one of the most important paintings of the early twentieth century and is considered an Austrian national treasure. I had a poster of the painting on my dorm room wall when I was at art school."
"Oh.” Dieter didn't know what else to say.
"I did some more research online, and there are a number of sources that say that the painting was confiscated during the war and that it was given by the Nazis to the Belvedere. These other four paintings I was able to identify by Pirktl are also hanging in the Belvedere."
"What are you saying?” Dieter asked, as Mark looked like he was about to bounce off the chair.
"I'm saying that these paintings may not belong to the Belvedere. If the Nazis confiscated them and gave them to the museum, then the museum may not own them."
"Then who does?” Dieter asked.
"You."
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Chapter Two
Gerald increased his pace, walking faster as he tried not to look like he was hurrying toward the conference room. Nothing betrayed inefficiency and a lack of decorum worse than looking like you were rushing to get somewhere—at least from the viewpoint of Harold Prince, the senior partner in the law firm where Gerald hoped to someday be offered a full partnership. Approaching the conference room, Gerald checked his watch once again and slowed his pace; he had two minutes. Pulling open the glass conference-room door, he walked in and quietly took his seat at the far end of the table where all the junior attorneys sat, proximity to Harold during the daily case briefing being a coveted show of status within the office.
"Good morning,” Harold called to the assembled group as soon as he walked into the room, starting the meeting even before he'd taken his seat. “Where do we stand?” As though it were scripted, everyone gave the latest update on their cases in fifty words or less, and unless there were questions, the spotlight moved from attorney to attorney, the more senior attorneys with the most interesting cases going first. Gerald listened to each of the updates, even making a few notes when he had a question he wanted to ask later. As the meeting progressed, the cases got more and more mundane until it was time for the junior associates to give their updates. Even though their cases were often downright boring and every attorney at the table had dealt with dozens of similar cases, the partners gave them their attention and asked questions to help guide and teach. It was one of the things that Gerald liked about the office. Yes, there was a strict hierarchy, but they were still a team, and they acted as such. “Gerald, how is the Anderson case progressing?” Harold asked. He knew by heart every case that everyone had active.
"Very well. Settlement negotiations should finish today, and it looks as though we're very close."
"Ballpark?” Harold prompted, cocking an eyebrow slightly.
"Half to three-quarters of a million,” Gerald answered succinctly, and he saw Harold's lips twist into a smile before he moved on to Mildred, next to him. She was a high-strung woman and the most competitive person Gerald had ever met, himself included. She gave her update, as did the last junior associate, and Gerald smiled, because among the junior associates he was top dog, at least for the day. His case would bring in a sizable fee to the firm, and that made him look good.
"Is there more?” Harold asked looking around the room. “No? Good. I have a case,” he said, looking down the table toward the junior associates, and Gerald could feel himself and the others straighten as a bit of excited energy shot through their end of the table. “It involves a certain amount of pro bono work, but it might be interesting,” Harold added, and Gerald could almost feel the other two attorneys slump slightly back into their chairs.
"I'll take it,” Gerald said, and he saw the more senior attorneys and the partners nodding their heads.
"Excellent. Thank you, Gerald. Come to my office right after the meeting, and I'll explain,” Harold told him before standing up and walking toward the door. The meeting was over, and it was time to get to work. Gerald stood up and followed everyone out of the conference room, ignoring the looks from his fellow junior associates. Walking down the hall toward the front, he passed associates’ and then the partners’ offices before approaching Harold's office. Betty, Harold's assistant, motioned for him to go right in, so he knocked lightly on the door frame before stepping into the plush office that was definitely meant to impress.
"Gerald, please close the door and sit down,” Harold told him as he stepped away from the window and walked around the rich mahogany desk to take the seat next to the one Gerald had chosen. Harold was one of those people who could be tough as nails, but always managed to do things in a way that was constructive. In other words, Harold was old school—demanding, but always a gentleman with everyone. Truth be told, when Gerald had first
come to the firm, he had found himself a little enamored of him. Harold was tall and fit, especially for a man in his midfifties, and his graying hair made him look incredibly distinguished, as did his expensively tailored suits, although Gerald figured Harold was equally at home in an old pair of jeans. Not that he'd ever actually seen him outside of the office or an office function. Harold was very private, almost reclusive, when it came to his personal life. At least that was what Gerald had heard around the office.
"The case I spoke about earlier is a bit unusual. The client is a young man—Dieter must be twenty-four or so now. His father and I went to school together, and when he died, I helped Dieter's grandmother with some legal issues regarding the boy's custody. I'm only telling you this so you'll know that I consider your help a personal favor. When Dieter called yesterday, I promised him we would see what he had and do some basic research to see if he had a case. So I'm authorizing up to fifteen pro bono hours for this that the firm will pick up, not you. I have no files or background information. Dieter told me what he's curious about, and his story is intriguing enough that I thought we should look into it."
Gerald was about to ask about the story and had even opened his mouth to speak when he realized Harold was going to continue.
"I'm not going to tell you. I think you should hear this from Dieter himself. He's coming in to the office right after work. He'll be here at five today. I hope that's all right.” Gerald nodded his assent. Not that Gerald was about to say anything different. His heart was already pounding in his chest. It looked like he might be getting an interesting case as well as doing a favor for Harold.
"Of course,” Gerald answered, and when Harold got up from the chair, Gerald knew that was his dismissal. “Thank you, Harold,” Gerald said before leaving the senior partner's plush office and heading to his own, which was down the hall in the back. By most standards, his office was quite nice. The furniture was a rich-looking cherry wood, and his chair new and comfortable. It just paled in comparison to the other offices, but Gerald knew he'd get there someday. Greeting Annette, his admin, and picking up his messages as he passed her desk, he entered his office and got to work. From the stack of messages she'd given him, he was going to have a busy day.
Gerald's morning passed swiftly as he returned phone calls and got ready for his eleven o'clock settlement conference, which went better than he'd hoped. His client and the insurance company had agreed to a figure that was even higher than Gerald had expected, and just after lunch, the insurance company had sent over the papers, and they'd been signed, sealed, and a huge check delivered to his client.
"I heard you settled the Anderson case,” Mildred said as she slithered into his office, looking for gossip.
"Yes,” Gerald answered, feeling proud of himself.
"I heard Brian had his doubts,” she commented, trying to get under Gerald's skin.
"No, I didn't,” Brian, Gerald's managing partner, said from outside Gerald's door before joining them, and Gerald saw Brian flash Mildred a look. “I just came in to tell you that you were amazing. I thought you should have stuck with three-quarters, but you saw something that I didn't and pushed for the full million, and they caved."
"They were scared,” Gerald explained. “The lead negotiator kept looking at our client, and there was this tiny twitch in his eye that wasn't there before. Something had changed for them, and I'm not sure what it was, but it cost them a quarter million,” Gerald explained happily, and he saw Mildred leave his office without another word.
"Well, that was great work, and you made a tidy chunk of change for the firm and really helped the client. Well done!” Brian flashed one of his winning smiles before leaving the office, and Gerald basked in the glow of success for a few minutes until he glanced at the clock and realized he needed to get ready for his next appointment.
By five, Gerald's brain felt like mush, but he had the client he'd agreed to take for Harold, so he rebuttoned the collar he'd loosened an hour ago and walked to the lobby, where he saw a man a few years younger than he was fidgeting in one of the chairs with what looked like a photo album and some papers on his lap. “Are you Dieter?” Gerald asked as he pushed open the door.
The man held his papers and stood up. “Yes."
"I'm Gerald Young.” He held out his hand, and Dieter fumbled with what he was carrying before shaking it. “Let's go back to my office where we can talk.” Gerald led Dieter back down the hall to his office and offered Dieter a chair before sitting at his desk and getting out a legal pad to take notes. “What is it we can help you with?"
Dieter fumbled with some of the papers he'd brought before placing the photo album on the desk. “These are pictures of my great-grandparents in their home in Vienna, and this"—Dieter pointed to a painting on the wall behind them in the photograph—"is a portrait of her. The thing is that this painting is really famous now, and it's in the Belvedere museum."
Gerald looked intently at the photo as Dieter fidgeted in the chair. “A friend of mine is an artist, and he did some research for me. He found out that this painting, along with the others in the pictures, were taken from Gram's parents’ house by the Nazis, and they ended up in the Belvedere. What I want is to get the paintings back."
Gerald stared across his desk at the man sitting across from him. He looked so young and appeared so innocent with his huge blue eyes staring back at Gerald hopefully. Gerald didn't quite know where to start. “Okay,” Gerald began, turning the album around so he could see the photographs better.
"Those are my great-grandparents, and that's my grandmother. This photograph was taken in their home in Vienna before the war,” Dieter explained to him.
"Okay. There are some things we need to do. I think we need to establish the family lineage, and I need to do some research on the artworks themselves,” Gerald explained, and Dieter handed him a number of Internet printouts, which Gerald perused briefly. “It seems to be well-documented that this is indeed a portrait of Anna Meinauer."
"Yes. She's my great-grandmother, and Joseph Meinauer was my great-grandfather. My grandmother's maiden name was Meinauer.” Dieter seemed excited, and Gerald found it catching.
"Okay. There are a number of things I need to research, but I think we need to start with proving that if these paintings aren't the property of the Belvedere and belong to your family, then we need to prove that they truly belong to you. The easiest way to do that is to prove that Gertrude Meinauer, your grandmother, is truly their daughter. Do you know your grandmother's birth date?"
"September 27, 1926. She told me she was born in Vienna,” Dieter told him before adding, “I have a copy of her marriage license, and I looked for a birth record, but didn't find anything."
"That's not surprising. However, since I know where she was born, I can see if the records still exist. Do you happen to have a copy of your grandmother's will with you?” Dieter shook his head. “Then why don't I make a list of things I'll need you to try to find for me.” Gerald began a new sheet of paper and began writing. “If you can find them, I'd like both you and your parents’ birth certificates and any records you have, along with the will."
"Does this mean you'll help me?” Dieter looked so earnest, Gerald couldn't have turned him down, especially not when he looked at him so filled with hope like that.
"It means that I'll look into it and see if there's really a case. I can't promise anything, except to do my best. One of the difficult things is that the paintings are in Austria. Even if we can prove that they belong to you, we'd have to file suit in Austria.” Gerald could see Dieter's hope slip out of his eyes like water through a sieve. “Let me look into this a little deeper. Would you mind leaving the photo album and the research you did here with me?"
"Yes, but be careful. It's all I have from Gram's family.” The care and concern in Dieter's eyes was incredibly sweet, and Gerald found himself drawn to it.
"I'll take very good care of them, I promise,” Gerald said as his stomach rumbled. “E
xcuse me."
"It's okay. I'm hungry too,” Dieter said as he got up to leave.
Gerald got a good look at him as he turned to leave, and his breath caught in his chest for just a second. “I was about to get something to eat on my way home. Would you like to join me?” Gerald blinked a few times, not able to believe he'd just invited the adorable man for dinner. He didn't even know if Dieter was gay, and he was a client. “I'd really like to hear any family stories you can tell me,” Gerald clarified, to give himself cover.
Dieter turned around, looking confused for a few seconds, but then Gerald saw his smile, big and warm, lighting up his face. “Okay.” Dieter looked like he was bursting to tell these stories, like no one had ever asked him before. “Gram told me a lot of stories, mostly because I used to bug her until she did. I don't know how many of them are true. But you never know what could be helpful, right?"
"Exactly,” Gerald agreed, making sure his desk was clear and that the material Dieter had given him was all properly stowed in one of his locked drawers. “Do you have any ideas for dinner? There's an Italian place just down the street."
"That would be great,” Dieter said, and Gerald turned off his office light before leading the way back to the lobby. They rode the elevator down and then walked the block or so to the restaurant, enjoying the warm summer evening.
"So what do you do?” Gerald asked Dieter, making small talk.
"I'm a computer programmer,” Dieter answered without much enthusiasm. “It's not as exciting as I thought it would be, but it's okay."
"Do you mind if I ask when your grandmother died?"
"About three years ago. I found out about the paintings not long after she died, but I had to finish school, and when she died, Gram left me her house, and it needed work, so I sort of let the whole painting thing sit for a while.” Dieter sounded as though he had so much energy. Even walking, he practically bounded down the sidewalk rather than walked. “If it would help, I could arrange for you to meet Mark Burke. He's the artist who helped me find a lot of the information I gave you."