The next time I came to visit Emma I stayed on until after six. Ironing, Mrs. Shearer subtly reminded me of the time. “Five thirty, Mr. Mossman,” she announced, looking at the clock. Then, a quarter to six. Then not so subtly: “Mr. Mossman, don’t you think it’s time you got along your way? Mrs. Mossman will be home shortly.”
“I’m aware of the time, Mrs. Shearer.”
Emma seemed happy to have the extra time with me to read through a Ginger comic book I had bought her, about a buxom teenage girl who batted her eyes at every boy in school and had quickly become America’s high-school sweetheart.
Around six twenty, I heard Liz’s key in the door.
She stopped in the entrance, both smiling slightly and slightly cross, surprised to see me there. I could read on her face the exhausted demeanor of someone at the end of a long day. But she quickly lightened at the sight of Emma and me paging through the adventures of the country’s most flirtatious teenager.
“Charlie, she’s six,” she said in a mildly rebuking way, putting the groceries down. “I didn’t see that on her first-grade reading list.”
I said, “You know, I was told someone asked Ginger, ‘So what do you consider to be the most outstanding development in recent years in history?’” I held up the cover, showing Ginger mooning over a boy at her desk. “‘The history teacher,’ she said.” Then, the moment the words got out of my mouth I realized how insensitive it had sounded, given Marymount and Natalie. “Sorry.”
“Well, I’m so glad that’s what you’ve got my daughter reading,” Liz said, seeming not to take offense. “I didn’t expect to see you, Charlie.” Instead of upset, her eyes actually appeared pleasantly surprised.
“Actually, there was something I wanted to talk to you about…,” I said.
“Good evening, Mrs. Shearer. Has Emma had dinner?”
“She has, ma’am. I tried to tell Mr. Mossman it was time to get her in her pj’s,” she said, putting the groceries away. “And, that the choice of reading was not altogether appropriate.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Liz said, taking off her coat. “My husband’s never been particularly appropriate.”
I wasn’t sure she took it as a joke. “Well, I’ll be going then if it’s okay with you,” Mrs. Shearer announced. “I’m late as it is for my bus.” She slowly put on her coat, taking her time, but I waited in awkward silence while she tidily put her things in her purse, went through with Liz a list of things that were needed from the market, and finally said goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” I waited until I heard her shoes heading down the staircase before I said anything else.
“That woman barely trusts me with five minutes with my daughter,” I finally said, shaking my head.
“I admit, she does feel a bit proprietary toward Emma. She’s had her to herself these past two years. Emma, darling, would you go get into your pajamas for me?”
“Yes, Mommy. Look how Daddy helped me with my writing.” She showed Liz the lined composition book. “You know how I always have trouble with my Gs.”
“I was always a whiz at Gs,” I said. “Goya. Galileo. Gregory IX…”
“Gregory IX? Who’s that?”
“Famous pope. Lived around 1230 AD. Responsible for decreeing the Inquisition.”
“Lovely, Charlie. A legacy to be proud of. I might have said Betty Grable myself,” Liz countered. “Anyway, good work, sweetheart.” She draped a hand against Emma’s cheek. “We’ll go over it later. Right now, just get yourself together.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
Emma left and I waited till I heard her open her chest inside to say, “Basically I just wanted to tell you how great Emma is, Liz.”
“She is, isn’t she? Thank you. I’d offer you coffee, but I’m not sure it’s best for Emma to get the wrong idea.”
“The wrong idea?”
Liz draped her coat across a chair and put down her purse. “Look, I talked to my lawyer, Charlie. Rollie Gretch.”
“Oh.” I felt my heart sink. “Another G.”
“This isn’t a surprise, is it?”
“No, it’s not a surprise.” I shrugged. “I just wanted you to know, Otto Brickman has started paying me to go over some of his papers at Fordham. It’s not exactly a full-time position, but he said if it went well, he would talk to someone there. It does give me enough to take a room in a boardinghouse in Brooklyn and get off that couch I told you about.”
“That’s great, Charlie. That’s swell. Really. I’m glad you’re getting back on your feet. Look, I didn’t mean to be rude. I just don’t want Emma to see us together right now and get the wrong idea about things at a sensitive time.”
“I get it,” I said, and stood up. “I won’t stay. Okay if I leave her this?” I dropped the Ginger comic on the table.
“I think I can promise it’ll be in the trash within ten seconds after you leave.” She smiled.
“I figured. But actually, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about, which was why I stayed.”
Liz opened the fridge, searching for a plate of chicken Mrs. Shearer had left for her there. “What’s that?”
I said, “I’ve had a couple of unusual chance meetings with the Bauers. I was just wondering what you know about them?”
“Trudi and Willi? What do you mean?”
“I don’t know what I mean. I mean, there’s something about them that just doesn’t add up.”
“Add up how, Charlie?” She pulled out the dish. “What I know is that they’re the nicest people I know. They adore Emma as if she was their own. And she, them. They even found Mrs. Shearer for us, and what would we ever do without her? I’m sure that will forever endear them to you.” She laughed. “And when she can’t make it, they’re always willing to step in with Emma till I get home. So what do you mean, ‘doesn’t add up,’ Charlie? Add up how?”
“I don’t know.… How they say they’re Swiss, but they’re always reading and talking German to Emma.”
“They are Swiss. And anyway, is that illegal today?”
“No, it’s not illegal. It’s just … Look, Emma used a German word to me a while back that opened my eyes. ‘Lebensraum.’ You know what it means?”
Liz placed the plate of chicken on the counter and took out a pitcher of water. “No, I don’t.” She shrugged impatiently. “But I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“It means ‘living space,’ Liz. Elbow room. It’s how Hitler justified all his military expansion into Czechoslovakia and Poland and beyond. Emma said she overheard Willi and Trudi using it, and when I asked her what it meant, she said, ‘the future.’”
“The future … Willi and Trudi? Now I know you’ve got it wrong. The Bauers are against the Nazis more than anyone I know. They have family, Trudi said, who have been imprisoned by them.”
“I hear you. But then there are these people who go in there from time to time.” I lowered my voice so Emma wouldn’t hear. “Emma and I have bumped into them on our way out. I’m sure you’ve seen them.”
“No. In fact, I haven’t seen them, Charlie. I’m not always around. But now that you mention it, they do have visitors sometimes on the weekend. Is that illegal too?”
“So far, we’ve seen four different ones. They always seem to hide their faces, like they don’t want to be seen here. Trudi Bauer calls them ‘customers.’ Customers for what, Liz? Then I happened to see one the other day. I was actually looking for you, at Old Heidelberg—you remember, that café near the subway station, I don’t know if you go there anymore.…” I was about to say how I’d spotted her with someone across the street, but held back. “And I saw one of them.…”
“One of whom?” She looked at me, tired and exasperated like she wanted to sit down and eat.
“One of the people I’m talking about. Who we had run into on the landing. He was at The Purple Tulip next door. You remember, The Purple Tulip is a place where the German American Bund types always congregated.”
“Charlie, I’m really having trouble figuring all this out. Do you have any idea just how you’re sounding?” Liz looked at me.
“I don’t care how I’m sounding, Liz. I’m just trying to put a few things together. Do you have any idea how long they’ve been here? Or what they do? Emma said they sold beer?”
“They’ve been here for years, as far as I know. Since the late ’20s, I think. And Emma’s right, they do make beer. Or did, I don’t know. They have a brewery of some kind. Old Berliner, I think it was called. On Ninetieth somewhere. Originally, they said they would take Emma over for a visit. I know they sold it to many of the German bars around here. I really don’t keep up with them that way.”
“Old Berliner? I thought they were Swiss.”
“You can’t be Swiss and make beer, Charlie? Do you just have to make chocolate? Who are you now, Hector Poirot? You’re sounding a little silly now. I mean, just what are you suggesting? Trudi and Willi are spies?”
“Don’t mock me, Liz. I’m sure you saw that twenty-six of them were arrested not two weeks ago. Right here in New York. So they do exist. We’re inching toward war. It’s not exactly far-fetched.”
“I’m sorry, but it is to me, if you’re talking about the Bauers. And we’re not at war, Charlie. At least, not yet. Trudi and Willi…? Next you’ll say they’re recruiting Emma. And what are they using as their secret weapon, strudel?”
She stared up at me and I admit I had to smile at that, and Liz smiled too. Then laughed. The way it all came out, it did sound a bit far-fetched. Even to me.
“Honestly, Charlie, you must be watching all those war movies that are coming out now. You know, Confessions of a Nazi Spy?”
“No.” I shook my head. “In fact, I haven’t.”
“Well, it certainly sounds like you have been.”
Emma came back out in her squirrel pajamas and we tabled the conversation. “Are you going to be staying for dinner, Daddy?” She looked at Liz. “Please, Mommy.”
“Look, honey…” Liz didn’t know how to answer her.
“I wish I could, peach, but not tonight,” I said, chipping in with what I knew Liz would want me to say. “But maybe sometime soon. Or maybe we can go out. Just the two of us.”
“I would rather it was all of us,” she said. “Like before.”
“I know, doll. I wish it could be like it was before too.” I pinched her on the cheek. “But it can’t be. Not right now. I’ll see you Thursday, okay?” I took my hat and jacket.
“See you Thursday,” she said, nodding with a tinge of disappointment.
“To be continued.” I gave Liz a tight smile, and with a one-fingered wave toward my daughter, I was out the door.
Heading down the stairs, thinking on it all again, maybe it did all seem a bit silly. Maybe I was making it up as I went along, piecing together bits and pieces of things that didn’t fully fit, like Emma’s puzzles. Still, at the same time, I couldn’t put it away. Just as I couldn’t put away that Liz was now speaking to her lawyer and that any hopes I had of picking up the life we had before were gone. Or at least, they were listing badly.
Still, on the street, my mind kept coming back to the Bauers. To Old Berliner … They had been in the beer business. What they had done in the years before.
I stopped back in at the Old Heidelberg café and sought out my waiter, Karl.
He seemed surprised to see me again so quickly. “Did you forget something, Mr. Mossman? I didn’t find anything at your table.”
“No, I’m just curious about something, Karl. Maybe you can help. Ever hear of a beer called Old Berliner?”
“Old Berliner, why, of course. We served it in this restaurant for years. It was Wilhelm Bauer’s beer. He and his wife still eat here occasionally.” He pointed eastward. “It was brewed right over there near the river in an old firehouse on Ninetieth Street, near York.”
So Emma and Liz were right, I said to myself—the Bauers were in the beer business. Maybe the people we kept running into could be merely customers after all. Bar owners. Distributors. Though it occurred to me, why would they be coming to them? At their home. Instead of to the brewery.
Karl tucked two menus under his arm. “Is that all for now?”
“Yes,” I said. “Thanks, Karl.” Then as I was about to leave: “Just one more thing.…”
“Of course. If I can help…”
“You used the word ‘served.’ In the past tense. How come I don’t see it on the menu anymore?”
“Well, that’s because they don’t make it any longer,” the white-haired waiter lamented. “The Bauers had to close their doors.” He scratched his head. “A year ago, I’m thinking. Maybe more.”
“Closed…?” I looked at Karl. “A year? You’re sure?”
“Yes, Mr. Mossman. Or more. Why…?”
“No reason. Thanks.”
But what I was really thinking was that I was now sure Trudi Bauer had lied about this after all, just like they had about what they’d said to Emma.
They closed their brewery a year ago, Karl had said. Or more.
Whoever these people were, I was now sure they likely weren’t customers of the brewery at all.