“But what about the letters?” Daniel pressed. “What if they contain new evidence that doesn’t come to light until Thursday?”
She shrugged, saying if we found any new evidence that was extremely compelling, she could pass it along to the judge after the hearing but prior to his ruling.
She glanced at her watch and began closing up the files and gathering the papers. As she did she briefly explained the approach she planned to take with the court. A lot of what she said was way over my head, but from what I could tell, the biggest factor in our favor was the deed itself, which clearly stipulated a first right of refusal for Ulrich Kessler or his heirs. “As you know, Daniel, it’s the associated language that’s causing all the problems,” she said, pointing to a paragraph on her copy of the deed.
“And Lex Koller?” Daniel asked as he tucked his own papers away. “Any help there?” I wasn’t sure who Lex Koller was, but this was the first I had heard of anyone by that name. Her answer made no sense to me at all, so I decided to ask Daniel about him later.
As they wrapped things up, I glanced over at Alice, who had sat quietly through the entire meeting. At the moment she looked as if she might be just a few more complicated legal terms away from a sound sleep. I wasn’t doing much better myself by that point, so I was glad we seemed to be finished. When we all stood, Daniel asked the lawyer if there was anything else official we needed to do before the hearing on Wednesday.
“Find me that agreement,” she urged, smiling. “Or at least find those letters, and keep rounding up every other pertinent document you can locate. My hope is that we can paint such a complete picture of the situation that the judge will rule in our favor. Beyond that, I suppose you might, uh, pray.” She said that last word with a glance at Alice and me, though I couldn’t tell if she was being sarcastic or sincere. She was an odd woman, her manner brusque but her English so natural that I had a feeling she must be a native speaker. Either that, or at least she’d spent extensive time in the States.
“Herr Lauten said something about some meetings this afternoon that you might want us to attend?” Daniel asked.
Her face lit up, and she looked again at Alice and me.
“Oh, right! Not meetings, just a little PR. Thanks for reminding me,” she said, and then she reached for her phone and started dialing a number. It sounded as though she was put on hold, after which she placed a hand over the receiver and asked Daniel if he could have us over at the waterfall around two or three today. “I have a buddy over at the Wochen Zeitung who is willing to do a cover story. Can’t beat this photo op, huh?”
She gestured toward Alice and me, but before either of us could respond, she was talking into the phone. I looked over at Daniel in alarm, hoping she wasn’t talking about what I thought she was talking about.
“Daniel—” I whispered, but he waved me off, listening intently to her conversation. I couldn’t understand many of her words, but by the time she put the person on hold, she didn’t seem happy.
“Figures,” she said, looking at him. “Wouldn’t you know, the township has surveyors over there on the property all week. We can’t even get close to the falls. Can you think of an alternate setting, something that could still help us in swaying the greenies? I don’t want to use the mansion at Amielbach. That could actually be counterproductive.”
Glancing at us, Daniel shook his head slowly and told her that in no way would Alice or I be willing to pose for any photographs. She looked shocked, but even after he explained that it was against our religion, she just pursed her lips in irritation, shaking her head. “Without pictures, the article will end up getting buried somewhere in the middle, if they decide to run it at all.”
Seeming ambivalent, Daniel looked at Alice and me and explained that one way to help our case was to sway public opinion. Right now, he said, most folks in Wasserdorf were siding with the hydro plant, thanks to some very well-placed newspaper ads and articles highlighting the ecological benefits of such a clean energy source.
“The thinking is that we can trump that big time,” the lawyer continued, turning to appeal to me directly, “by showing how two poor Amish women came all this way—by cargo ship, no less—just to preserve this site that’s so vitally significant to their heritage.” She paused for a moment and then added, “The original vision was to get some shots of the two of you in your costumes there at the falls, looking off toward the caves where your ancestors hid. But even with the falls off-limits, I’m sure we can come up with something almost as effective.” As an afterthought, she added, “Bear in mind, ladies, in a case as politically delicate as this one, a couple of quick photos could make the difference between winning and losing.”
Her little speech finished, her words hung in the air for a long moment as I tried to think how to refuse without sounding as rude to her as she had just been to us. Before I could come up with anything, however, Alice spoke instead.
“Thank you, but no,” she told the woman, her voice polite but firm. “Better to lose with integrity than to win with compromise.”
I was glad once we were finally out of there and on the sidewalk, the sun warm on our shoulders, the fresh air a relief after the stifling atmosphere inside. George had offered to keep an eye on Christy during our appointment, taking her through the clusters of little shops that lined the streets of the town. We were to meet them in the ice cream parlor on the corner at noon. Even though we’d be early, we headed there now, ignoring the stares of passersby as we walked.
Glancing at Alice, I wanted to say something about the lawyer, in particular her comment about us in our “costumes.” But her face looked as serene as always, and so I held my tongue, not wanting to sound petty or spiteful.
Instead, I asked Daniel my questions. I started with the one about the deed, saying I wanted to know what the lawyer had meant by the “associated language” in the document that was causing problems.
“Ugh, I practically know it by heart,” he replied, not even pulling out his photocopy for reference. “‘The Grantor hereby conveys this property deed free and clear of third-party claims and encumbrances with the exception of those stipulated in the agreement regarding first right of refusal for Ulrich Kessler or his heirs. See related agreement for complete list of stipulations.’ It’s that last sentence that’s troubling us, because obviously there’s more to the agreement than just the first right of refusal. Otherwise, why would the deed even mention that there were other stipulations?”
I nodded. No wonder they were concerned.
We passed the open door of a chocolate shop, and for a moment I was distracted by the incredible smells coming from inside. Seeing my hesitation, Daniel assured me that far better chocolate could be had at the ice cream parlor where we were going.
“This joint’s for tourists. If you want the real thing, you need to get it at Eiscremezeit.”
We kept going, and I asked my next question about the man he’d brought up, the one whose name I hadn’t recognized.
“What man?”
“Lex, I think? Lex Carter?”
Daniel thought for a moment and then surprised me by laughing.
“Lex Koller?”
“Yes. Who is that?”
Still smiling, he said, “That’s not a who; that’s a what. Lex Koller is a law, also known as the Bundesgesetz über den Erwerb von Grundstücken durch Personen im Ausland.”
“Huh,” I replied. “Guess I prefer Lex Koller.”
He chuckled. “Anyway, Lex Koller is the federal law that deals with the acquisition of real estate by what’s known as ‘persons abroad.’”
“And that’s us?”
“Yep.” Glancing around, he lowered his voice and said, “In my opinion, the Swiss government wants to limit as much foreign-owned property as possible. They make it difficult to buy in here, with all sorts of requirements and stipulations, whatever it takes to discourage foreign ownership. My hope is that this attitude may actually work in our favor, because we can show the
court that if they will clear the title, we will sell it back to a citizen of Switzerland.”
“And did Ms. Holt agree?”
He shrugged. “She said it could work either for us or against us. It’s kind of complicated, but the township of Wasserdorf could actually turn around and use Lex Koller to seize the property for the hydro plant, claiming that a past, unauthorized transfer of the land invalidated your grandmother’s ownership entirely.”
“I see.”
When we reached the ice cream parlor, I decided I didn’t want to talk about the subject any more. My brain was tired, and Alice was looking so bored her eyes had practically glazed over.
Daniel held the door for us, and as we stepped inside, I took a deep breath, inhaling not just chocolate but other delicious smells as well. Moving forward, I realized they were making waffle cones behind the counter, which accounted for at least one of the delectable scents enveloping us.
The place was fairly empty, though Daniel said that by late afternoon the line for ordering would be out the door. I wanted to get some ice cream, but as we hadn’t even had lunch yet, I decided to settle for a piece of chocolate instead.
I moved toward the large case of assorted treats, eyeing them hungrily as I tried to make up my mind. Alice excused herself to find the restroom, and then Daniel said he needed to slip out for a minute as well. His watch had been running slower every day of this trip—risky business in so punctual a place as Switzerland—but he had spotted a little shop next door where he thought they might be able to sell him a battery. “We still have some time before the others get here,” he said, glancing at his watch. Then he added, “Of course, how would I know? According to this, it’s just about time for breakfast.”
We both laughed, our eyes holding for a moment. I was thinking what a delightful friend this young man had turned out to be. But then I realized he wasn’t looking back at me in quite the same way. Between the sparkle in his eye and the tilt of his head, it struck me that Morgan may have been correct, that maybe he really did like me as more than just a friend. I broke our gaze, looking away, and after a beat he said, “Okay, well, be back shortly.”
Then he was gone.
TWENTY-TWO
Left alone, I put thoughts of Daniel out of my mind and focused on the confections in the display. I settled finally on a fat pretzel coated in white chocolate and drizzled with a ribbon of dark. It wasn’t until I went to the register to pay that it struck me that I had no local currency. Apologizing to the cashier, who did not speak English, I tried to make her understand by showing her the contents of my wallet. Nodding, she gestured toward the bills, and I realized she was willing to take U.S. currency instead. I handed over a single bill, and then two, but she didn’t seem satisfied until I had given her five. Even at that, all she dropped in my hand in return were two small silver coins. Too embarrassed to tell her I’d changed my mind, I carried my treat to a booth near the window and sat. Soon Alice appeared from the back and slid in across from me.
“Ooo, yummy. What did you get?”
“The world’s most expensive pretzel,” I replied, holding it up and peeling back the cellophane wrapping. “Would you like some?”
“Thank you, dear. No.”
“Just as well,” I said, breaking off a tiny piece of the chocolate and setting it on my tongue to melt. “I’d have to charge you a dollar per inch just to break even.”
She chuckled, pulling a napkin from the holder and wiping at a smudge on the table. I offered to go get something for her too but she said no, that she had indigestion and didn’t want to make it worse.
I took my first full bite, the surge of rich, chocolaty goodness filling my senses. It was worth every penny.
Alice asked where Daniel had gone, and after I explained, she and I sat in companionable silence for a while. She looked pale, but after the meeting we’d just endured, I had a feeling that I probably did too.
“How are you doing, Alice? Are you holding up okay?”
She nodded and then replied that she was just a little tired. “I didn’t sleep very well last night,” she added, “that’s all.”
I glanced at the clock. We still had a few minutes before Christy and George were due to arrive. I leaned forward and spoke, lowering my voice.
“How about Christy? Do you think she’s doing all right?”
“Her health? Definitely. I haven’t seen her so active and lively in a long time.”
“How about…in other ways?”
Alice thought for a moment. “She seems to be opening up more. Don’t you think?”
“Yes. That’s true.” Christy was more open, though I still felt there was somewhat of a wall between the two of us. I guess I had hoped that the girl would be more trusting of me by now. At least she seemed to come alive when Daniel was around.
“She’s definitely doing better.” Alice folded up the small napkin and set it aside. “They say the first year is the hardest—she and Lydia were so close, especially with Christy being her only child for so long.”
That made sense. Lydia must have poured herself into her daughter. “Have you noticed how Christy reacts to talk of death?”
Alice shook her head.
“She didn’t want to discuss the early Anabaptists having been killed. And in Jane Eyre, when Morgan reached the part about one of the characters dying, Christy became very agitated and didn’t want to hear anymore.”
“Oh, dear.” Alice’s white eyebrows furrowed.
“It’s probably pretty typical, don’t you think?”
Alice grimaced. “I suppose. I’ve tried to get her to talk about how she feels, some. I’ll try again soon.”
We were interrupted by an excited squeal from the doorway. The very girl we’d been speaking of had burst into the room, spotted us, and was dashing to our table. Eyes sparkling, she began to recount the adventure she’d just had. Behind her came a smiling George, looking not unlike a jolly, plaid-shirted Santa Claus. Apparently, when they had grown bored with shopping, he’d taken her to a local cheese factory. Christy had found the whole thing fascinating, especially the gift shop on the way out, where they sold tiny cheeses molded in the shapes of animals.
While she chatted on happily to Alice, George went over to the counter, probably to get some ice cream. The bell over the door jingled, and then Daniel was stepping inside. He spotted George and headed toward him. I could hear pieces of their conversation, and when I realized they were talking about the letters, I excused myself and joined the two men. George said he’d just checked in with Herr Lauten for an update, but we’d still received no word from Giselle. Aunt Marta, on the other hand, had sent us a brief message via email—or rather, Z-mail, as I was starting to think of it thanks to the role Zed played—that said something like “Problems on this end, but we’re working on it. Will keep you posted.” I had a feeling that meant that Mammi indeed had some letters in her possession but was having trouble locating them. I wasn’t surprised, as the pack rat gene seemed to have passed all the way down from Abraham Sommers to Mammi, and the attic over the daadi haus was so full of old trunks and boxes that I knew it could take days to get through them all. I hoped Aunt Marta wasn’t just conducting the search herself but had enlisted a whole army of helpers. The community knew what we were doing here, and I had no doubt they would jump in at a moment’s notice, as they always did when one of us was in trouble or had a need.
“Until we have the letters, there’s not much more we can do back at the house,” Daniel said. “Guess we can go ahead and make that stop after all.”
“Sounds good to me,” George replied. His ice cream was ready, and as he reached across the counter to take the loaded waffle cone from the young woman, I looked at Daniel inquisitively.
“We thought you folks might want to see the oldest Mennonite church in Switzerland, which is right here in Langnau.”
“It’s one of the highlights that will be on our tour,” George added before taking a big lick of his ice cre
am.
I wasn’t sure how to respond. While I would enjoy seeing the church some other time, right now I wanted to get back to Amielbach as soon as possible. “I was hoping we could explore the Kessler property today,” I explained. “I’d love to see the waterfall up close and take a peek at the caves behind it.” I also wanted to get a look at the nearby cottage where my birth mother lived.
Daniel shrugged. “You heard what the lawyer said, Ada. The township currently has the place all tied up with surveyors.” Seeing the disappointment in my face, he added, “We can do that tomorrow, or as soon as they are finished. For now, why don’t we grab a quick lunch here in town and then head over to the church?”
I glanced over at Alice and Christy, both of whom would likely vote for seeing the church. Nodding, I agreed to his plan, thinking I could always get a look at Giselle’s cottage later, once we got back.
The church was two stories tall with a covered entrance. Green shutters framed every window, and both the building and the grounds were well kept. George requested an English-speaking guide, which meant we ended up getting our own private tour. Deferring to the volunteer’s expertise, he moved to stand beside Daniel as we gathered together outside the front entrance of the church and she began her spiel. Speaking in stiff-but-articulate English, she said the building had been constructed in the late eighteen hundreds but that the original congregation had first formed here long before that, in 1530, to be exact.
As she moved toward the double doors and propped them open, she added, “That was just seven years after the first of the martyrs had been drowned in the Limmat River in Zurich.”
Alice and I both glanced at Christy, but fortunately she was distracted with a small ladybug that had landed on her sleeve and didn’t seem to have heard.
We entered the building through the double doors and then walked down a long hall to a room where the old records and registries were kept. Shelves of books lined the wall at the far end. “We have quite the compilation of resources,” the woman said. “Copies of documents from Bern along with our own member records.”
The Amish Nanny Page 21