Featured Article » Fiction

A Job Well Done

Written by Kerryn Offord

 

July 1634, Magdeburg

Katherine Franzius surveyed the contents of her wardrobe. What to wear to work today? It hadn't been a problem when she first started work at Magdeburg Concrete two years ago. Back then she'd made do with a single dark blue skirt and jacket, and choice of two linen blouses for work—the standard uniform of typewriter operators. However, it wouldn't do for the executive assistant to the head of operations to be mistaken for a lowly typewriter operator. She now wore clothes that properly portrayed her importance and standing within the company. She spared a glance for the several inches of empty wardrobe. Maybe it was time ask Ronald about granting her a dress allowance again. It must be all of two months since she last asked, and clothes that projected the required image were expensive.

She finally settled on a white cotton blouse with a narrow lace ruff and a slate-blue calf-length linen skirt topped with a fitted doublet-style linen jacket in the best black Lothlorien Farbenwerke could produce. She adjusted the lace ruff so that it showed above the jacket collar and twirled around a couple of times, looking in the mirror to admire how the skirt swirled around her silk-stocking clad legs. Happy with her choice, she hunted for a particularly nice silver-buckled belt and matching handbag she'd bought just the previous week and examined the finished product in the mirror. That brought a happy nod from the image.

Next she opened her shoe cupboard. The last few days had been particularly hot, so she wanted something open. But she also had to walk to work, that meant the light sandals wouldn't do. There really wasn't anything suitable, which meant she needed to go shopping for shoes again. That brought another smile. Katherine enjoyed shopping. It was one of the fruits of her climb to executive assistant that made it all worthwhile. When she first started work at Magdeburg Concrete she'd barely earned enough to pay the rent on a single room apartment, let alone a shopping spree. However, her position had grown with the company. Within weeks of starting she'd found herself assigned as secretary to Ronald Chapman, probably the single greatest piece of luck to ever fall her way. With Ronald heavily in demand outside the office for his knowledge of how the concrete machines worked, she'd often been left in sole charge of the office. She'd flourished on the responsibility, actively seeking more and more of it until now she was more than a secretary; she was Ronald's executive assistant, his trusted confidant and advisor, and one of the highest paid employees at Magdeburg Concrete. Ronald happily left her in charge whenever he could escape the office.

Katherine settled for a pair of low-heeled black pumps with a narrow strap. Her hair, in its businesslike chignon, needed something more than just hairpins to hold it, so she dug through her hats, scarves and gloves drawer for a crocheted white snood and pinned it on over her hair. She examined herself critically. The white lace netting contrasted attractively with her almost black hair. Now all she needed was a little jewelry and she'd be dressed. She unlocked her jewelry drawer and ran her fingers over the various compartments. Yes, the small silver wristwatch today, and a similar sized silver bracelet for the right wrist for balance. No rings for work, but a pair of simple pearl earrings would be okay. Katherine checked that she had money for breakfast and lunch before slipping her purse into her handbag and then picked through the contents of the bowl on her bedside table for a few office-day essentials. She added a couple of handkerchiefs from the top drawer, wound her watch and checked it against the more reliable bedside clock. She'd been awake less than an hour and she was already ready to leave for work.

 

****

 

Ronald Chapman rolled out of his bed and staggered over to the jug and bowl on a table by the window. Splashing cold water over his face helped him wake up. He shaved as best he could with his clockwork shaver. A blade shave would have been better, but he wasn't game to try it with cold water, especially in his present condition.

He was doing up his boot laces when his eyes fell on a scrunched up ball of paper, the letter from his landlord he'd found tacked to his door when he stumbled home at two in the morning. That had been the perfect end to the perfect day. The number two kiln had been working perfectly all year and then, right in the middle of a major order, and a week before it was scheduled to be taken offline for preventative maintenance, it decided to fail. It'd taken Ronald and his team less than an hour to locate the problem—uneven wear on a bearing because of a poor casting—and another ten to fix it. He smoothed the letter out and read it again. Yep, it still said that the owner wanted to turn the apartment building into condos, and unless he wanted to buy his apartment he wasn't going to have a home come September. He'd have to get Katherine to find him a new apartment.

 

Arendsee, Altmark, north of Magdeburg

 

Christine Niemand was the first of her family to waken. She slipped out from under the thin blanket that was their only covering and quickly washed and dressed before waking her brother and sister.

While they washed and dressed, she got breakfast ready. She lifted the heavy stone off the lid of the cooking pot and divided the cold remains of last night's eel stew into three bowls, putting the empty pot to one side to be washed later. Then she turned to another old pot and removed the heavy stone and lid from it. It held the remains of an almost stale loaf of bread. She cut off chunks for each of them and placed them on the table before putting the remaining bread back into the pot and covering it. She'd learned the hard way that the extra weight of a stone was necessary to stop the rats getting into the food.

She looked up after saying the prayer for their meal to find her brother Claus looking at her. "Is there something you want to talk about?"

"Pastor Heyl thinks I could earn a scholarship to the Latin school in Stendal if I could get extra tutoring before the tests."

Christine reached out and hugged her brother. If he could earn a scholarship that would be one less drain on her meager purse. Unfortunately they both knew there was no way she could afford to pay for the extra tutoring.

"Pastor Heyl is sweet on you, Chrissy. If you were to marry him . . ." Claus fell silent.

Christine couldn't meet her brother's eyes. She tried to remember that he didn't mean to be selfish. She tried to remember that earning a scholarship to the Latin school was his best chance of helping them better their situation. The alternative was a life of poverty, and at seventeen that wasn't a pleasant future to look forward to. "I'll find the money somehow, Claus. Now eat your breakfast."

After breakfast Christine sent Ilsa and Claus off to school with an eel pie wrapped in a square of cloth for lunch before tidying the cottage and washing the dishes. Then she walked over to her friend Margarethe's cottage where she poured out her problems while they carded wool together.

"How are you going to afford the extra tutoring for Claus?" Margarethe asked.

Christine paused in her carding. "I don't know."

"Pastor Heyl is sweet on you," Margarethe suggested.

"Not you too, Margarethe. Claus has already suggested I marry the pastor, but he's so old. Why, he must be at least forty."

"That's not so very old."

"Maybe not to you, but if I have to marry, I'd rather it be to someone with a little life in him. Not some dried up old stick like the pastor."

Margarethe sighed heavily. "What about Fritz Winkler? He's been sniffing about since your father died."

Christine shuddered. There was something about Fritz and the way he looked at her that scared and revolted her. "No. Anybody would be better than him, even Pastor Heyl."

"Anybody?" Margarethe asked.

Christine looked at her friend suspiciously.

"I was tearing out a few pages to help start the fire this morning when one of the advertisements caught my eye." Margarethe reached for a much mutilated catalog and passed it over.

Christine looked at the advertisement. "Wives of Distinction?"

"Yes. You should get your name on their books. You never know, you might find yourself a rich husband."

Christine snorted. "That's not going to happen."

"Yes, well, maybe expecting a rich husband might be a bit much, but surely someone better than Fritz Winkler or the pastor. What do you have to lose?"

Christine sighed. She didn't really have anything to lose and she could gain a future for herself and her brother and sister. "Very well, I'll write a letter."

 

Magdeburg

 

The first thing Katherine did after sitting down at her desk at Magdeburg Concrete was to reach for the contents of her out-basket. An executive assistant shouldn't have to check her out-basket at the start of every day, but her boss often worked long after she'd left for the day and when his in-basket ran empty he often started on hers, dumping anything he finished into her out-basket. From where, if she didn't intervene, it could be filed without her ever seeing the documents. At least this morning she didn't expect to find any surprises. The gate guard had told her that the cement kiln Ronald had been called away to work on early yesterday afternoon hadn't been fixed until nearly two in the morning. He should have been too tired to come into the office after that. She let her mind wander, imagining a world where Ronald left her in-basket alone.

She glanced down at her wristwatch. Was that the time? With Ronald having worked so late he'd need his morning caffeine fix more than ever today. She rushed into the small kitchenette off her office and started preparing the coffee.

 

****

 

Ronald waved to the guard as he walked through the gates of Magdeburg Concrete and walked to the company cafeteria where breakfast was being served.

It was a cheap and simple meal of hot mush and a thick slice of bread spread with dripping. All washed down with a mug of small beer. The company firmly believed that offering a good meal to start the day kept the accident and absenteeism rates down. Ronald paid for his meal and hunted for a seat.

Even though he was the sole up-timer in the cafeteria, and one of the bosses, everyone ignored him. He'd been using the cafeteria since it was first started and now the workers were used to him eating with them. They left him alone and got on with their meals and conversations, leaving Ronald to eat in peace.

When he finished eating he took his tray to the cleaning station like everyone else. He didn't make a fuss about the workers who were still eating. As long as they put in an honest day's work he didn't care how long they took. So far this studied disinterest was delivering the dividends in worker-employer harmony he'd promised when he proposed the policy to the company's directors.

 

****

 

Ronald pushed open the door to his office and settled himself behind his desk. After dropping into his chair, he glared at the empty desk in the outer office. "Kathy!"

Katherine poked her head out of the office kitchenette. "Two minutes."

He sighed. With barely four hours sleep he desperately needed that first hit of caffeine.

A couple of minutes later Katherine waved a mug of coffee under his nose. He grabbed it and inhaled the first couple of inches. Then, still sipping, he gently leaned back on his chair and looked up at his executive assistant. "You're a lifesaver, Kathy."

She smiled modestly back. "Herr Knaust wishes you to contact him as soon as possible."

"Any idea what he wants?" The question was a polite fiction. Katherine was a compulsive knower of everyone's business.

"There may be delays in the Magdeburg Towers project."

"What does that have to do with me? Aren't the Towers being built by Magdeburg Growth Holdings?" Ronald was pretty sure he was on firm ground here. He walked past the construction site nearly every day and you couldn't miss the billboards advertising the development. However, he didn't like the way Katherine was looking at him. It was sort of condescending, and she sure did condescending well. "What's my connection to Magdeburg Growth Holdings?"

"You are Magdeburg Growth Holdings, Ronald. It's your personal front company."

"I have a front company?" Ronald was surprised. "I thought it was only criminals and people with something to hide who had front companies?"

"We set it up last year when you invested in the new bridge. You didn't think it would look good if a principal of a concrete company was a major shareholder in the new bridge." Katherine paused to glare at Ronald. "You signed the authorization yourself, remember?"

Ronald tried his best to out-glare Katherine. He definitely remembered that conversation. He even remembered talking about building a skyscraper to profit from the booming demand for accommodation. What he didn't remember was asking her to do the paperwork to create a front company. Nor, for that matter, did he remember asking her to invest his hard earned money in the new bridge over the Elbe or an apartment block. He didn't doubt he had signed the authority, he just couldn't remember doing it. But then, last year he'd been so busy with the expansion of Magdeburg Concrete's production capacity that he hadn't had time to actually read every file that passed across his desk before signing off on them.

Things had improved over the last six months, though. With the mad rush over he'd actually had time after the rest of the office staff left for the day to read the documents Katherine left in his in-basket. Heck, sometimes when he finished the contents of his in-basket he even helped Katherine by clearing the contents of her in-basket.

His glare failed to make any impression on Katherine and she continued to stand in front of him, completely unaffected. "Okay, so I own an apartment block. What's gone wrong?"

"Nothing has gone wrong. Construction is ahead of schedule and the Towers should be habitable three months early, on the first of October."

Ronald had learned the hard way to be sensitive to words. He easily picked up on the important one. "Habitable?"

"Yes. If you don't insist on the elevators running Herr Knaust is proposing a deal that can have everything else up and running by the end of September. However, if you want the elevators, it will now be April of next year at the earliest before they can be completed."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't the Towers supposed to be seven stories high?" Katherine nodded. "And aren't they supposed to be luxury apartments?" Again Katherine nodded. "Nobody willing to pay for luxury is going to pay to walk up stairs. Of course I want the elevators. What's the hold up?

"Furttenbach and Parigi won the design competition for the new opera house complex and our elevator contractor wants to supply the elevators the design calls for. However, they can't meet the opera house's tight deadline and deliver your elevators on schedule. They want you to accept a delay of three months."

"What the elevator contractor wants to do isn't our problem. Don't we have a contract?" Ronald asked.

"Yes, but Herr Knaust believes he can get the contractor to lower his price and as they need the elevators delivered on a very tight schedule, Kelly Construction has suggested that they could connect the Towers to the opera house power plant. That would give the Towers steam for heating and electricity at a much lower cost than if you had your own steam plant and generators. As it only adds three months to the existing schedule and you can still let the apartments—even if at reduced rates—two months early, Herr Knaust considers it a win-win situation."

"What about the boiler and generator that were supposed to go into the Towers?" Ronald asked.

"They aren't installed yet, and Herr Knaust is confident they can easily be sold to another developer."

Ronald chewed over the information. Here and now a steam plant, even for something as small as Magdeburg Towers, was a pretty significant capital investment. And, as for running costs, if the plant at Magdeburg Concrete was anything to go by, he was sure they'd be high. "Okay. Tell Herr Knaust to get the best deal he can."

"I'll just go and type up instructions for Herr Knaust for you to sign."

Ronald knew Katherine well enough to be sure she had already typed up instructions based on what she thought he should do. The time it took before she came back would tell him how well his decision matched what she thought should be done. He waited until she was at the door before calling. "Are you sure you don't already have instructions typed out ready for me to sign?"

Katherine hauled open the office door and, as if the thought had never crossed her mind, turned and glared at him. Then she stepped right into William Roberts, the other up-time senior executive of Magdeburg Concrete, who had just stepped through the door.

There was an exchange of stilted apologies full of "Fraülein Franzius" and "Herr Roberts" before Katherine escaped, shutting the door after her.

Bill Roberts looked from the closed door to Ronald. "You done something to upset your secretary?"

Ronald shook his head and leaned his chair back on its back legs. "Kathy'll get over it easily enough."

"I hope you're right, because Debbie's dumped another charity event on my lap. The Arts Council ball, and I don't see why I should be the only one to suffer. Unless you've got someone I haven't heard about tucked away, you'll have to ask your secretary to save you from the ravaging hordes again. Is she likely to be agreeable?"

Ronald grimaced. At any social event he attended he faced having the down-time partners of Magdeburg Concrete introducing him to their daughters and grand-daughters, all the time suggesting that it was time he thought about marrying. It had gotten so bad lately that he'd been driven to begging Katherine to accompany him in an attempt to deflect some of the attention. It was enough to put a guy off marriage completely.

Katherine poked her head into the room and nodded vigorously. "And I'm Ronald's executive assistant. Not his secretary."

The door shut as quickly as it had opened and Ronald and Bill were left alone in the office. Ronald glanced over to Bill. "We'll be there."

"She listens through the door?"

"Kathy assures me it's an essential part of being a successful executive assistant. It means she doesn't have to rely on me to tell her things she needs to know to make my life easier."

"Jeez. And you let her get away with that?"

"Bill, it works for us. As you're always telling me, if it's not broke . . ."

"Don't fix it. Okay, if you're happy, I'll stay out of it. But it wouldn't work for me."

"Yeah, well, you're not me. If you can get the invitations to Kathy, she'll make sure we turn up."

"You know, your secretary just about runs your life as it is. Why not marry her and let her run the rest of your life?"

 

****

 

Bill had only been gone a few minutes when Katherine came in with the authority for Herr Knaust. She sniffed delicately. "I wouldn't marry you even if you asked me."

Ronald signed the letter and handed it back. "I know. I'm not mature or sophisticated enough for you."

The pair exchanged smiles of mutual understanding.

"Partnering me to the Arts Council ball isn't going to interfere with your love life is it?" Ronald asked.

Katherine shook her head. "No. Joachim is busy that evening."

"He must be a real understanding guy if he doesn't mind you going out with your boss."

"Joachim understands that the duties of an executive assistant are many and varied, and that I get paid triple time after midnight."

"Yeah, I love you too." He shook his head. "Debbie's going to have to cut down on her charity events. They're costing me a fortune."

"Do you know what you need, Herr Chapman?"

Ronald lowered his chair onto all four legs. When Katherine called him Herr Chapman, he knew he wasn't going to like what she had to say. "No, Fraülein Franzius, I don't know what I need."

"You need a wife."

He was glad he wasn't still leaning back on his chair. That suggestion coming from Katherine would have had him rearing right back and tipping over. "Not you, too? I thought you were on my side."

"I am. You don't have to marry one of your partners' daughters or grand-daughters, though. Any suitable woman would do. Think of the money you'd save. Besides, you're lonely. You need a companion."

"If I want a companion, I'll get myself a dog."

"And where would you keep it? You live in a one-room apartment on the third floor of a residential hotel. At least a wife can clean up after herself, and exercising her would be much more fun."

Ronald glared at Katherine. It was so long since he last had a woman the idea of a wife was almost attractive. It wasn't that women, even prostitutes, weren't available. The big problem was that he was scared. Syphilis and other sexually transmitted diseases were endemic and the antibiotics to treat them were sadly lacking. Sure, they had condoms here and now, but he'd heard they had to be made to measure out of sheep intestine. Just trying to picture being fitted for one was enough to put him off.

Suddenly he remembered the letter from his landlord. He passed it over to Katherine. "Can you find me somewhere else to live?"

"I can investigate what's available, but what about Magdeburg Towers? You could move in to the penthouse with your new wife."

"I don't need a wife, Kathy. I'm not even looking for one," Ronald protested.

"That's because you've forgotten what you're missing and you work too hard to meet anybody but the simpering girls your partners push under your nose. But don't worry, a good executive assistant is always ready to provide her boss with everything he needs."

"I am not going to some tacky singles bar, and I don't do blind dates." Hopefully that would stymie Katherine. Without his cooperation there was no way she could find him a wife. Although the way she smiled just before she waltzed out of the office didn't look good. Ronald leaned his chair back on its rear legs again and mulled over his conversation with his executive assistant. Surely he'd covered all the bases?

 

August, Arendsee

 

"Stick out your tits, love. The customers like to see what you've got to offer."

Christine swallowed her temper and stuck out her chest as directed so the photographer from Wives of Distinction could take his photograph. She didn't approve of having her photograph taken, but Frau Saling, the agent from Wives of Distinction, had insisted that men responded more often to listings if they knew what a woman looked like.

"Right, love, you can relax now." The photographer removed the double-dark from the back of the camera and handed it over to Christine. "Take that over to my assistant and wait."

Christine took the flat wooden cassette gingerly in her hands and hurried over to the photographer's tent. Behind her she could hear the photographer calling out instructions to the next girl in line.

"Name?" The photographer's assistant asked.

"Christine Niemand." She watched the assistant write her name in chalk on a blackboard. He pointed to a bench. "Wait over there. In this light, it'll be half an hour before your prints are ready."

Christine walked over to the bench and sat down. She felt as if she was selling her body for a wedding ring and security for her family, but in the last couple of weeks her situation had deteriorated significantly. Frau Cratzmann had discovered that her precious son, Fritz Winkler, was pursuing Christine. Unfortunately, she held Christine responsible for his behavior, and as her husband was Christine's village-appointed legal guardian things weren't looking good for Christine keeping her family together.

"Niemand, Christine."

Christine jerked up, saw Frau Saling and hurried over to her. She was examining a couple of pictures. It took a moment for Christine to realize they were her pictures.

"These are good enough. There's no need to take new ones, so you're free to go. I wish you success in your hunt for a husband."

It was a few seconds after Frau Saling walked away before Christine realized it was all over. She was going to be listed with Wives of Distinction. She looked around. Some of the other girls were milling around talking to each other, but for Christine time away from her spinning and carding was time she wasn't earning. She started running for Margarethe's.

 

Late August, Magdeburg

 

Ronald and Katherine's footsteps echoed throughout the penthouse. The space was enormous, especially when he compared it to the hotel room he'd been living in the last couple of years.

"Master with full en suite. You'll be needing a bed, linen, a dresser and a chest of drawers." Katherine stood in the middle of the room taking notes.

Ronald looked into the en suite. There was a sunken tub big enough for two, twin shower, and twin hand-basins. He could fit his current apartment in one corner and still have plenty of room. "I don't think I'll be moving in here. I'd get lost."

"Nonsense. A few weeks and you'll be wondering how you survived in your poky little room."

"This whole apartment is way too big for one person."

Katherine smiled at Ronald. "There's an easy solution for that."

He glared back at her. He'd hoped she'd forgotten her silly idea of finding him a wife. She'd certainly been quiet on the subject lately.

"Anyway, if you remember, your landlord is kicking you out shortly. You need somewhere to live before the end of the month. As you own the Towers, it'd be foolish for you not to live there."

"But the penthouse? Why not a nice little studio apartment on the second floor?"

"Because until the elevators are installed the closer to the ground an apartment is, the higher the rent it commands, and you need all the income you can get to service your mortgage," Katherine answered.

"Surely the rent for the penthouse would be more than the rent for a studio apartment lower down?"

Katherine shook her head. "You know better than that, Ronald. Nobody who could afford the rent for this much space is interested in climbing seven flights of stairs."

"So I get stuck with it," Ronald grumbled.

"You and your family."

Ronald suddenly had a horrifying thought. "Hell, with this much space they'll expect me to put them up whenever they visit."

"All the more reason to start your own family," Katherine answered.

"Will you stop that? I am not looking for a wife."

"How will you feel when you're a lonely old man with no family to comfort you?"

Ronald snorted his contempt for that idea. "A hell of a lot better than my big brother will feel with his mob of bloodsucking leeches hanging around."

Katherine glared and stamped off into the distant bowels of the penthouse apartment. Left, for once, triumphant, Ronald celebrated his victory over his executive assistant by investigating his new home.

 

****

 

Katherine had met Ronald's brother and his children. Calling them bloodsucking leeches was probably an exaggeration, but there was sufficient truth in the comment for her to feel Ronald had won that argument. Losing wasn't something Katherine condoned, especially not losing to Ronald. Recovery from such a serious blow to her self-esteem was going to take serious therapy, and when a woman needed serious therapy there was only one kind worth bothering with—retail therapy.

She tried a few of her regular shops, but nothing called out to her. So she drifted a little further afield. That's how she came across the tiny office of Wives of Distinction. A brief perusal of the exterior advertising perked up her spirits. A marriage agency! Why hadn't she thought of that?

The gentle tinkling of the door bell attracted the attention of the woman seated at a desk. She looked up from what she was reading. "May I help you?"

"I was just passing when I saw your sign. You find husbands for single women, don't you?"

"Yes, we do. Are you looking for a life partner?"

Katherine shook her head. "Not for me, for a friend." She saw the knowing look in the woman's eyes and hastened to correct her. "Truly, a friend of mine is looking for a wife."

"Ah, Then you've come to the right place. What kind of wife is your friend looking for?"

"Young, healthy, intelligent . . ." Katherine hunted in her mind for other qualities Ronald might like. "Not too plump. Actually, skinny would better describe his taste."

The woman opened an index card box and collected several lengths of wire from a drawer. "How young?" she asked, a wire ready to thread through one of the holes punched along the edge of the cards.

"How young do they get?" Katherine asked.

"I've recently added a seventeen-year-old, but most of my clients are in their mid-twenties or older."

Katherine was surprised. Most people waited until they were in their twenties before marrying. It tended to take that long before they could afford to do so. "Why would a seventeen-year-old be looking for marriage?"

Frau Saling pulled a card out from the back of the index box. "The poor thing was orphaned last year and left with the care of her younger brother and sister. She's currently supporting her family on what she earns as a spinster."

"In other words, she's slowly starving to death?"

"She's certainly not plump, and as for intelligent, her brother hopes to attend the local Latin school on scholarship."

"Could I have a look at that card?" Katherine asked.

Frau Saling passed it over. "Would you like me to sort out some other candidates?"

Katherine was busy reading the scant details on the card and waved Frau Saling's question off. "It says here that there are two photographs. Could I see them?"

"Viewing a girl's photographs costs ten dollars."

"What? Ten dollars just to look!"

"I run a business here. A lot of my clients can't afford the services of a photographer, so I send out my own man and charge the men for photographs to cover my costs."

A nice little racket if ever there was one, Katherine thought as she rummaged in her handbag for her purse. The woman probably did way better than just cover her costs.

Frau Saling pulled a folder out of her filing cabinet and placed the two photographs on her desk.

Katherine looked at the girl in the photographs. She was perfect. Her story would appeal to Ronald's noble instincts, of which she felt he had way too many, and her looks would strike at the man in him. "Could I have a copy of the listing and the photographs, please?"

"Just the one girl? You shouldn't put all your eggs in one basket. After all, the girl might not be interested in your friend."

"Just the one." Katherine was adamant.

"You'll have to wait a couple of days for my photographer to print off your copies."

Katherine looked down at the photographs. She wanted to strike while the iron was hot. "Why can't I have these photographs?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't allow that. What if someone else wanted to see them?"

Katherine hadn't risen to the position of executive assistant to the operations manager of Magdeburg Concrete by being stupid. She reached for her purse again. "How much?"

Frau Saling smiled. "For one hundred dollars you can have the photographs and as a special favor, I'll remove Christine's listing until I get replacement prints."

Katherine thought about it for a full thirty seconds. Even on her salary it was a lot of money, but the opportunity was too good to miss. She peeled off a hundred dollars and passed the fistful of notes over. "I'll take it. What's the deal if my friend wants to get in touch with the girl?"

"On payment of a small fee he gets a letter delivered to the girl and a guaranteed reply, even if it's just a 'thank you, but no thank you.'"

Katherine accepted the schedule of fees from Frau Saling, and nearly choked when she read the magnitude of Frau Saling's "small fee" to deliver a letter outside of Magdeburg. She stared down at Frau Saling and pointed mutely to the offending number.

"I have to make a profit, and it does cost a lot to have a courier deliver the letters and collect replies. Of course, if your friend puts his address in his letter to the girl there is nothing stopping her writing to him without going through my agency, using the regular mail."

Katherine could understand her point. The fee for delivering the introductory letters might be the last she received from a client, so she would have to charge as much as the market could bear to remain in business. "Do you have any recommendations as to what my friend should say in his letter?"

Frau Saling pulled a single printed sheet from a box by her desk and passed it over. "Just get him to follow these simple rules, and tell him he should include at least a full face photograph. It's only fair that the girl gets to see what the men who wish to correspond with her look like."

If the men were writing letters and adding photographs, how, Katherine wondered, did Frau Saling know the photographs were actually of the men writing the letters? Immediately following that thought Katherine started worrying about Christine's photographs. "How do I know these photographs are really of the girl in the listing, or even that she really exists?"

"My agency's continued existence depends on its good name. Every girl I list has been personally vetted by me or one of my assistants. I can assure you, Christine exists, and she is the young woman in the photographs. I know. I was the person who vetted her."

Satisfied, Katherine took her leave.

Now, how was she going to draw Ronald's attention to Christine? Katherine spent the walk back to the office mulling over the problem. Finally she decided she'd hit Ronald when he came into work the next day. Around the time he had his first caffeine hit of the day, when he was at his most relaxed and susceptible. Katherine smiled smugly to herself. A girl didn't rise to executive assistant without learning how to manage her boss.

Next day, Magdeburg

 

Katherine spied Ronald walking past the gatehouse. She put down her binoculars and went to start the coffee. Ronald was a creature of habit and she knew to within a couple of minutes how long he'd take to finish his breakfast at the staff cafeteria.

Then she went into Ronald's office to check that everything was ready. The folder with Christine's data sheet and photographs was sitting on top of his in-basket, ready to be the first thing Ronald reached for after she served him his coffee. Perfect. Now she just had to wait.

****

 

Ronald was greeted by the smell of freshly brewed coffee as he entered his office. He could see the mug sitting on his desk waiting for him. Grabbing it, he slumped into his chair and reached for the first folder in his in-basket. He dropped it onto his desk and flipped it open.

He stared. Who the hell was this girl? He laid the contents of the file out on his desk. There were two photographs, a typed description, and an information sheet from "Wives of Distinction" giving instructions on how to write an introduction letter. "Katherine Franzius, get in here right now!"

Katherine appeared. "You called?"

Ronald pointed. "What's the meaning of this?"

"It's the woman I think you should marry."

"Woman? She's just a kid." Ronald grabbed the data sheet and read it again before waving it under Katherine's nose. "Hell, she's the same age as Gerald's daughter."

"A little younger, actually, but if you read her description of herself you'll see that she's virtually raised her sister as her own child since their mother died five years ago. And more recently, since the death of their father last year left her and her brother and sister orphaned, she's been the sole source of support for her family. That kind of thing matures a person very quickly."

Ronald read further down the data sheet. Yes, it did tell about Christine's situation. "Why the hell would a seventeen-year-old girl want to marry an old guy like me?"

"Security. Maybe even affection. And if she's lucky . . . love."

Ronald looked up at her in surprise. That wasn't the kind of thing he expected to hear from his ever-so-elegant assistant. He pushed the photos to one side and reached for the next folder. Katherine was still standing beside him. "Don't just stand there. Get back to work."

He pretended interest in the new file until Katherine was back in her office, hammering away on her typewriter. Then he lowered the file and glanced over at the photographs. The full length one was a bit tacky, until you looked at the eyes. They seemed to be calling out "this isn't the real me." And then there was the portrait. There was something about the girl in the photograph that just reached out and grabbed him. He turned back to the file he was supposed to be reading.

 

****

 

At three o'clock Bill Roberts dropped by for a mug of coffee. He couldn't help but notice Ronald hastily covering something on his desk. So he deliberately lifted the files to reveal two photographs. He got a hand on them just before Ronald could grab them, then stepped back to examine them. She was a good looking girl, but he didn't recognize her. "Who is she?"

"She's the seventeen-year-old girl currently at the top of Kathy's list to become Mrs. Ronald Chapman."

The statement was delivered so nonchalantly that at first Bill didn't take it all in. Then it struck. "Your secretary is trying to marry you off to this sweet young thing?"

"Yes, and I've told her the girl is way too young for me."

Bill reexamined the photographs. He had vague memories of some of Ronald's previous girlfriends. The memories were so vague that he started wondering just how long it'd been since Ronald had a girlfriend. His best guess was some time back up-time. This girl was attractive without being really beautiful. However, she had the kind of looks that promised to improve with maturity. And why, if she was way too young, did Ronald look as if he wanted to mug him to get the photographs back. "Be sure to invite me and Debbie to the wedding."

"I am not getting married, Bill, regardless of what Kathy thinks."

Bill waved the photographs, and Ronald snatched them from his hand. "Anything you say." Bill wanted to laugh. His friend was all tied up in knots over a seventeen-year-old girl he'd only seen in a pair of black and white photographs. He'd have to tell Debbie about this.

 

****

 

All through the afternoon Ronald found his eyes drifting to the photographs. There was something about the girl that got to him. It was more than just her story of sacrifice. There was also the way she looked. It wasn't any one feature—although her enormous eyes held Ronald every time he looked at her portrait—it was the whole package. Ronald felt more aroused than he'd been in years, and the photographs weren't even mildly pornographic.

He tried to decide why he was responding to the photographs. Maybe it was the promise he saw in those eyes. And maybe he was just fooling himself, seeing something that wasn't there. He pushed the photographs to one side and got back to reading files.

Finally, just after four-thirty, he gave in to the siren call. Maybe she wasn't what he imagined. Maybe she wouldn't want anything to do with a man more than twice her age. But it couldn't hurt to make contact. Ronald grabbed the folder and walked out to talk to Katherine. "Okay. What do I have to do?"

"Write to her telling her you would like to get to know her better, objective: marriage." She passed a couple of typed pages. "I've made a few suggestions. And you'd better put in some photographs so she knows what she's getting. I suggest you pick one or two of these." She handed him six photographs of himself. "I recommend these two."

Ronald scowled. He'd only just arrived at the idea of finding out if the girl he imagined really existed and here she was talking about marrying the girl already. Could he marry a girl half his age, one who was younger than his niece? Well, certainly not if she was anything like as immature as Elizabeth Ann. But maybe this girl was the girl he imagined her to be. He turned his attention to two photographs Katherine had recommended. One was a full face shot and the other a full length one. He could see why the full face had been included. It was a good honest photograph of his battered face, but . . . "Why that full length shot?"

"Because it shows you in the Magdeburg Concrete company coveralls. You want to provide evidence that you are gainfully employed."

"Surely the one in the suit would be better for that?"

Katherine shook her head. "It's obviously an up-time suit. You want to look as if you can afford to support Christine and her family without looking rich, and everyone knows all up-timers are rich."

Ronald collected Katherine's suggestions and the photographs and retreated back to his office. There he ...