by Ellin Carsta
“At your service, Miss Therese, and Merry Christmas!”
“Good morning, Thomas. And a Merry Christmas to you, too.” She smiled at the elderly man, who’d been in her parents’ service for as long as she could remember. “I haven’t seen you in a long time. Are things well?”
“My sciatica hurts. But I can’t complain, Miss Therese.”
She touched his arm for a second. “It’s nice to see you, Thomas.”
Karl helped her up, then followed, and Thomas closed the door.
The trip took about an hour. Karl noticed that as they got closer, Therese began to knead her hands anxiously. He laid his hand on hers reassuringly.
“It’ll be all right.”
“I hope so. Why do I do this to myself? I could easily have said I had too much work to come.”
“You worry too much. It’s only a few hours, and you’re not alone.”
She smiled at him. “Yes, that’s right. I’m happy to have you beside me.”
He leaned over and kissed her cheek. When the coach stopped, he looked into her eyes. “Ready?”
She nodded. “Ready!”
“Mother, Father, I wish you a Merry Christmas. May I introduce Karl Hansen? Karl, my parents, Margarete and Friedrich Loising.”
Karl made a flawless formal bow and breathed a kiss on the hand of Margarete Loising, who appeared to be a somewhat older, more corpulent version of Therese.
“It is my pleasure, madame. The question of how Therese received her beauty has been answered by our meeting today. I wish you a Merry Christmas.”
“Herr Hansen, you are a flatterer.”
“An honest flatterer.” Karl smiled and firmly shook Friedrich Loising’s hand. In his dark-blue suit and vest, he reminded Karl a little of his own father. “Herr Loising.”
“I am honored, Herr Hansen.”
“Where is Florentinus?” Therese asked.
“Here,” a voice boomed from the stairway, and they turned toward a slim, tall young man with hair parted to the side, descending with a bounce in his step. Beaming, he went to Therese, took her in his arms, and whirled her around.
“My dear little sister, you look gorgeous.”
Therese gave a cheerful laugh.
Florentinus set her down and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Then he turned to Karl. “And who is the lucky man who can call himself your escort?”
Therese took her brother’s arm. “Florentinus, may I introduce you to Karl Hansen?”
“Pleased to meet you, Herr Hansen.”
“Herr Loising.”
They shook hands.
“Oh, Herr Loising is standing next to me, call me Florentinus—or better, we’ll drink too much absinthe and you can call me Tino like my friends.”
“Delighted. Call me Karl.”
“Please, do come in.” Margarete Loising turned, saying somewhat reproachfully, “You haven’t been home for so long, Therese.”
“I’ve so much work, Mother.”
“Nonsense.” Margarete made a dismissive gesture and took her husband’s arm. “Ladies in society don’t work; they enjoy activities.”
Therese stifled the reply on her lips.
Karl offered her his arm. “I’m delighted to be here with you today. My sincere thanks for the invitation.”
Thomas, who was still at the door, cleared his throat. Therese slipped her arm out of Karl’s and retrieved the pastry from the old man’s hands. “Thank you, Thomas.” She gave her mother the cake. “I hope you like it.”
Margarete received it and looked around uncertainly. A domestic hurried over.
“Take this to the kitchen.”
“Yes, madame.” The girl curtsied.
“Shall we go into the parlor?” Friedrich Loising invited his wife to precede him, followed by the others.
They had an aperitif and spoke until a servant appeared and announced that soup was ready to be served. Friedrich shepherded them into the dining room, where he took his seat at the head of the table. His wife sat to his right, Florentinus beside her and Karl opposite him with Therese to her father’s left. Two servants brought the soup.
“Herr Hansen,” Friedrich began, “might I ask what your occupation is?”
“Would the name Peter Hansen & Sons, Coffee Merchants, mean anything to you?”
“Hmm . . .” Friedrich seemed surprised and thought about it for a moment. “I have heard the name before. Maybe from one of my colleagues. Is that your father?”
“Quite right. Unfortunately, my late father.”
“Oh, I am sorry. The firm is in the northern part of the German Reich, isn’t it?”
“Indeed. Our main office is in Hamburg.”
Margarete Loising studied him with interest. “So you have a business, how nice!”
“Along with my brothers, yes. We used to just sell coffee, but we’ve recently discovered that cocoa is also a profitable commodity.”
“Karl is the supplier for my café,” Therese interjected.
Her mother arched her eyebrows. “That place can hardly be called a true café, surely.”
Therese swallowed.
“You find that surprising?” Karl asked, turning to Margarete.
“What do you mean?”
“Therese’s café. It’s the smallest café I know in Vienna. And yet that’s where the most chocolate and coffee are sold. We merchants call that a lucrative source.”
Margarete looked at him wide-eyed.
Karl turned to Therese. “You should be proud of what you’ve built.”
“And all without any financial support,” Florentinus added. “My little sister really showed what she can do.”
“Now let’s not exaggerate,” his father urged.
“I’m not, by any means. Think about it. You got the factory and your wealth from Grandfather, just like your father before you. And unless I do something particularly idiotic, I don’t have to worry about earning a living for the rest of my life. Karl inherited the business from his father, too. But our Therese, she’s done it all by herself. Without any support.” He raised his glass. “We’re very proud of you, my little sister.”
He paused, throwing an admonishing glance at his parents. Friedrich and Margarete reluctantly picked up their glasses. Karl smiled and followed suit.
“To Therese, who showed us men up properly. May your success last forever!”
“To Therese!” Karl repeated, as the Loisings took a quick sip from their glasses and nodded in the direction of their daughter.
Florentinus and Karl exchanged glances. Karl struggled to contain a smile.
Chapter Nine
Hamburg, December 25, 1888
The mood at the table was dreary. As far back as Georg could recall, the Hansen family Christmas gatherings had been special. A joyful time, when everybody sat together at the table, talking and enjoying one another’s company. But now they were down to four, and Georg, who was never at a loss for words, couldn’t find anything to leaven the mood.
“So, Richard,” he said gamely, “are you pleased with your scholastic achievement this year?”
Richard shrugged and shoved a piece of meat into his mouth.
“Richard, when your father asks you something, give him a decent answer!” Vera admonished.
“I did what I could,” Richard answered with his mouth full.
“I wish the family were here,” Frederike blurted out.
“We are a family,” Vera said, irritated.
“I mean Uncle Robert and Aunt Elisabeth. Especially Martha and Luise. And Uncle Karl, too. I miss them. We’ve always had Christmas together.” The sixteen-year-old had tears in her eyes.
“We all miss them, Frederike.”
“Everybody was here last year, even Grandfather. But now it seems so sad.”
“We can have just as nice a Christmas, just the four of us,” Vera said. “We just have to make an effort.”
“That’s not true,” Richard said, contradicting her.
�
��Richard, watch your tone of voice!” Vera looked at her son angrily.
“Leave him be,” Georg pleaded. “Frederike, we’d love to have them here as much as you. But times have changed.”
“Does that mean we’ll never celebrate Christmas the way we used to?” Frederike put down her knife and fork.
“No, of course not. This villa is our home, the true home of the whole Hansen family. We’ll all come together again, here—I’m sure of it,” Georg said, trying to cheer up his children.
“But when? I don’t want to spend another Christmas here if it’s going to be like this,” Frederike protested.
Vera burst into tears.
Georg handed her a linen handkerchief. “Please try to compose yourself, Vera.”
“We try to keep up appearances,” Vera sobbed. “You are so ungrateful.”
“I’m so sorry, Mother, I didn’t mean it that way.”
Vera sobbed a bit more before looking up, red eyed. “If you’ll excuse me. I’m tired and would like to go to bed.”
“But we haven’t sung yet,” Frederike managed to get out, stunned.
Vera rose from her seat. “Whether you have four voices or three, it won’t make a bit of difference. Excuse me.”
With that, she left the room.
A short while later, Richard and Frederike also asked to be excused. Georg didn’t object. He wouldn’t have admitted it to himself, but he was relieved to be left alone. He picked up his glass of wine and went to the parlor, where he poured himself a cognac and brought the half-full decanter to the leather armchair that had been his father’s. Georg finished his wine, then lifted the other glass and downed it in one gulp. Then he poured himself a second. He sank farther into the chair, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.
What a miserable time it was just now! Four days ago his spirits could scarcely have been higher, having paid off the final third of their debt to the bank. Now their regular payments were on schedule, and the warehouse was well stocked. If his personal circumstances had been different, Georg would have been quite happy. Robert shipped cocoa beans every two weeks. They followed their original plan to ship beans from Hamburg on to Vienna because Karl hadn’t yet found storage for larger quantities. The expense was a bit greater, but Georg firmly felt that they were on their way to rebuilding the business.
Still, as good as sales in Vienna were, they were lagging in Hamburg. People there didn’t ask for any sweetened chocolate; they wanted coffee. Yes, there were other uses for the beans, but Georg hadn’t been able to interest a confectionary or pastry shop in trying any. And the experiment of selling hot chocolate at the market was a failure. If the good people of Hamburg wanted a hot drink on a cold day, they went for mulled wine or grog. Anna and her chocolate stand received sneers instead.
Nor were the chocolate tastings in cafés successful. So Georg made the decision to revive the coffee side of the business that had received short shrift in recent months. Negotiations with potential customers, however, continued to be tough. And honestly, he was annoyed when he got one glowing report after another from Robert and Karl, whereas the head office was merely treading water under his control. Still, his brothers’ achievements averted the looming threat of bankruptcy, so Georg was granted a little breathing room on that front at least.
At the bank four days ago, he had let Herr Palm know that the final payment had been made and thanked him for his vote of confidence in the brothers and, consequently, in their firm. Palm was delighted, congratulating Georg on the rapid success of their business plan. Palm’s enthusiasm was sincere, and Georg had the impression that he was more than a little relieved because of the risk he’d taken on their behalf by postponing the payments.
Palm truly cared that the firm of Peter Hansen & Sons was stable again. And Georg suspected that his dislike of August Frederiksen played its part. He didn’t fully understand, but he tried to find out more about it. But Palm merely congratulated Georg again on his success and excused himself on account of urgent work that had to be finished before the holidays.
Georg thought of his brothers, and especially the plantation in distant Cameroon that had become the basis of the whole family’s survival. It was with a feeling of yearning that he slipped off to sleep that night, to dream of a country he’d never seen.
Cameroon, December 25, 1888
Luise felt strange singing “Come, Ye Shepherds” with the congregation while sweat ran down the back of her neck. It was the first time in Cameroon she’d felt a pang of homesickness. It seemed wrong not to be celebrating Christmas in the grand Hamburg villa. Not to mention the fact that here it was so hot and humid that the Christmas carol felt like a rehearsal for a much later performance.
Malambuku wanted to prepare a celebratory feast that day out of respect for the Germans’ religion. Luise had no idea what it would be, but she suspected it wouldn’t please her mother. The last time she’d been happy was on Luise’s birthday—until they reached Victoria and her mother discovered that the main street was nothing but a broad dirt road without any proper shops. Victoria turned out to be nothing but a chaotic arena for aggressive vendors with poor-quality wares.
Elisabeth’s last, tiny hope for a society environment like the one she was used to was crushed, and from then on, she’d shut herself away all day and barely uttered a word. Luise and Martha could see the worry in their father’s eyes, but he had no solution for his wife’s distress. Still, that day, Christmas Day, Elisabeth had braced herself and gone to church. Luise could see how miserable her mother felt. In spite of the bit of color her skin had gotten from the sun, she seemed pale and wan. She could barely follow the conversation; she seemed absentminded and extremely tired. Luise looked at her as the pastor delivered his sermon of hope and thanksgiving. They sang “Jesus, Great and Wondrous Star” and closed the service with “Silent Night.”
After, some people stayed for a drink, but Robert said goodbye, wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and steering his family toward the carriages—much to the annoyance of Martha, who had just spotted Raimund Leffers.
“You can talk to him next time. Now come along, Martha,” Robert urged.
Martha sighed and pressed her lips together in anger. She glared at Elisabeth, who let her husband help her into the carriage as though in a trance. Robert climbed in beside her and Luise and Martha got into the carriage behind theirs.
“It’s so unfair!” Martha complained as quietly as she could. “Sometimes I just hate Mother.”
“Stop that! You can see she’s not well.”
“She hasn’t been well since we’ve been here. But that’s no reason to destroy our lives, too!”
“Let it go,” Luise said; this was getting on her nerves. “She’s not destroying our lives just because you can’t talk to Raimund.”
“Oh no? And how am I going to get ahead here? I’ll be seventeen in two months. Other girls my age in Hamburg already know the man they’re going to marry.”
Luise didn’t know what to say to that.
“And wasn’t it Mother who always told us to keep a stiff upper lip and maintain our composure? And what’s she doing? Letting herself go, bit by bit, every day. People are talking.”
“Martha, could you do me a favor because it’s Christmastime?”
Martha looked at her in surprise. “What’s that?”
“Could you simply be quiet until we get home?”
Martha looked at her, fuming.
“Yes, that’s it. Thank you.” Luise turned and looked the other way.
And Martha didn’t say another word, but her silent curses now included her sister.
“I have an announcement to make,” Robert said at dinner. He put his hand on his wife’s. “And it will be of special interest to you, my love, of very special interest.”
She looked at him but didn’t attempt a smile.
“When the harvest is in, we’re going to Hamburg.”
Elisabeth’s reaction was remarkable, as if something ha
d roused her from a deep sleep.
“Hamburg?” She stared at Robert.
“Yes, my dear. Hamburg. Our home.”
Vienna, December 26, 1888
They spent the night at the Loisings’ villa. Therese slept in her old room, and Karl in a guest room. Nobody had expected the evening to go on so late. Margarete and Friedrich had retired early, but Florentinus, Karl, and Therese talked half the night away. The siblings regaled Karl with stories from their childhood and the tricks they used to play, about which their parents still knew very little. They tried to outdo each other, and it became a tipsy, rollicking good evening. When they finally went to bed, it was going on two and they were all joyful.
Therese was glad she’d invited Karl to share their Christmas dinner. She lay awake for a while thinking about that Karl Hansen. He was a dashing fellow with a very fine bearing, good looks, and excellent manners. He knew when he should speak up or keep quiet. And he made her laugh when many men hardly wrung a smile from her. He’d become a good friend, the best she’d ever had. But did she love him? She couldn’t come up with an answer, and sleep soon overcame her.
The next morning they said goodbye to all three Loisings and took off in the carriage for the journey home. Florentinus had promised to come by the café before long and to visit her in Vienna more often; they were agreed that the friendship they’d let go dormant should be revived permanently.
As the carriage departed, Therese leaned out and waved to her family. Then she sat down and reached for Karl’s hand.
“Thank you.”
“What for?”
“It was so wonderful, and all because of you.”
“Nonsense, it would have been the same without me.”
Therese leaned her head on his shoulder. “No, it wouldn’t. And the way you took my side with my parents! I mean, when you said how amazing it was that my little café turns a serious profit, I think that really impressed them.”
“Well, it’s only the truth.”
“Yes, but nobody’s ever given me such support.”
“Florentinus praised you to the skies.”
“That’s true. He’s really sweet.”
“Frankly, the way you were with each other surprised me. From what you’d said, I expected you two couldn’t stand each other.”