13. Dallas
DALLAS
Twenty-two hours after leaving Berlin , Greta and Otto arrived in Texas.
Their Uber pulled up in front of a gray concrete structure that, at first glance, looked a bit like an East German office building.
Or a prison. But to Greta, it didn’t matter that it was odd-looking or even ugly; staying in Lucy Holt’s house had to be better than checking in to a Holiday Inn on the side of a highway.
Greta felt around in the dark for the handles of her tote bag and then stepped out into air so hot and thick, it didn’t seem breathable.
Insects buzzed in the trees overhead. She looked up and down the street.
Even in the dark, she could tell that Lucy’s house was an ugly duckling in an otherwise very attractive neighborhood.
Otto was standing beside her with his briefcase. “Here is not a ranch with cows,” said Otto, sounding almost disappointed.
“No, Gott sei Dank ,” she said.
The Uber drove off, and they approached the entrance, lights flicking on by motion sensor as they walked down the sloped path.
Under porthole windows by the front door, Greta ran her fingers through the soil of the flowerpot, in search of a plastic rock Lucy had promised was there.
Dirt lodged under her nails. Otto stepped around her and jiggled the door handle.
“Found it,” said Greta. Inside the fake rock was not a key but a little transponder gadget. She spotted a pad by the door and held the device to it. She heard a click, brushed the dirt off her hands, and pushed the heavy door open.
There was an instant shift as they went from the humid outdoors into the air-conditioned quiet of the house.
The entry had steel beams cutting across the pitched ceiling, and beyond it, the room opened up like a cathedral.
There was a sleek, suspended staircase on one side with a round light fixture hanging over it like a full moon.
The house was a glimpse into the future.
And then—to Greta’s shock—two dogs came bounding toward them out of nowhere.
Greta’s heart leapt and she shrieked as the animals circled and barked at them, either in enthusiastic greeting or angry alarm; Greta couldn’t tell which.
One was short and stocky. He looked vicious but quickly bumped against Greta’s legs, licked her hand, and sat down on her foot.
The other one was fluffy and yapped without interruption, while jumping on Greta with sharp little claws.
“No,” she said firmly, “sit.” The dog rolled over on his back and kicked.
Otto had retreated through the open doorway and was standing outside on the doormat, looking petrified. “ Vorsicht , Greta,” he said, waving her back outside. “Move away at once.”
A gray-haired man rushed into the entry then. “The Germans!” he said. “You finally made it. You must be Greta,” he said. He put out a weathered hand to her and then relieved her of her tote bag. “I’m Lucy’s dad.”
“Hello,” Otto called, waving from outside the doorway. “It is nice to meet you, Mr….?”
“Henley. But you can call me Rex,” he said with a smile. “Come on in. The dogs are friendly. They’re just excited to meet you.”
“Whose dogs…?” Greta said.
“They live here,” Rex said.
Lucy had not mentioned dogs.
Greta stepped out of her shoes, and Otto, who had never related to pets or responded to them or understood what they had to offer, came inside, tentatively stepping over the threshold. He took off his loafers and lined his pair next to hers by the front door as the dogs sniffed him.
Rex smiled, looking at their socked feet. “Look at you, making yourselves at home.” Mr. Henley, Greta noted, was wearing tennis shoes inside the house. “Can I help you with your bags?”
“Unfortunately not,” Greta said. “The airline lost our luggage.”
Seemingly out of nowhere, a woman spoke: “The front door is open.”
Greta looked around to see who else was there.
“That’s the captain,” said Mr. Henley. He stepped around them, closing the door behind them.
“The captain?” said Otto.
“It’s a smart house,” Mr. Henley said. “Voice-activated. You can control the lights, the temperature. Just tell her what y’all need, and she’ll take care of it.”
Otto looked amazed. “We need our suitcases,” he said to the ceiling.
“I don’t think that’s quite in her purview. Hey, Captain,” Mr. Henley said to the ceiling. “Play ‘Goodbye Earl.’?”
“Playing ‘Goodbye Earl,’?” the voice said.
Music came out of the ceiling. Greta got goose bumps.
“I’m no expert in technology,” said Mr. Henley, tapping his foot along with the music, “not like Mason, but I’ll try to show you how everything works tomorrow.”
“Mason?” Greta said.
“Lucy’s husband.”
Lucy had not mentioned a husband. “He went to Germany with her?”
“No,” said Rex. “We like to say Mason is on Mars, but he’s really doing a six-month stretch out west in New Mexico. He’s at Alpha Red Canyon.”
Otto tipped his head in confusion, but Greta understood Rex’s meaning right away, and she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Lucy had gone to live in Germany while her husband was serving time in jail. But for what crime?
Rex led them into the kitchen, giving each dog a treat from a jar on the counter.
Never had Greta seen a kitchen like this.
There was an industrial-size refrigerator with double doors.
The gas range had six burners, and the island’s vast, stainless steel surface made Greta think of an aircraft carrier.
Everything here was scaled for preparing meals at a busy restaurant, not feeding a family. What a cook this Lucy must be!
The singers belted out their song through the overhead speakers as Rex pointed out the enormous back window where the trees were lit up in the darkness.
“We live right over there, in a little house on the other side of that fence, so just holler if y’all need anything.
Lucy left a few things for you in the fridge, a whole lot of boiled shrimp mostly, long story, and I can point you to the closest grocery store in the morning. ”
Shrimp seemed an odd thing to leave for houseguests. Greta had completely cleaned out her refrigerator before leaving, wiping down the shelves with a nontoxic cleaner.
“Or I’d be happy to take you to Costco sometime if you want to stock up,” Rex said.
“What is that?” Otto said.
“Costco? Oh you’ll love it,” Rex said.
He pointed to the corner where a cage was perched on a low table. “Now let me introduce you to this little guy.”
Greta was speechless.
“This here’s Piglet. He’s dumb as a brick, but gentle,” Mr. Henley said. “I’ll show you how to change his cedar chips tomorrow.”
“What is it?” Greta said, walking over to look in the cage.
“A guinea pig.”
A rodent in the kitchen? How unhygienic!
Rex opened the cage and took out a small, tan and white Meerschweinchen .
Greta glanced at Otto, wondering whether he too was counting animals in his head.
And then—almost as if this entire arrangement were some kind of practical joke—a cat walked into the room and jumped on the island.
Otto sneezed.
“A cat too?” said Greta.
“That’s right, and there’s two more around here somewhere,” Rex said, patting Piglet’s head. “One of them can be a little mean, but we’ve never figured out which was which, other than the hard way. Best to keep them all inside anyway, what with the cars and the coyotes.”
Coyotes? Greta swallowed hard, cursing Lucy, Otto, and Bettina in her head. Six pets? Lucy had clearly gotten the better deal in this swap: a tidy, well-appointed apartment in Berlin with zero responsibilities.
The house, she noticed, didn’t smell bad exactly, but it smelled busy, like an unholy combination of laundry detergent, grilled meat, and dirty shoe insoles.
“You want to hold him?” Rex said, offering up Piglet, who was staring at her blankly.
“No, thank you,” Greta said.
“This home is quite large,” Otto said, his hands on his hips as he admired the spacious kitchen. “What must it cost to run a house this size?”
Greta squeezed her eyes shut. “Really, Otto,” she said, “we shouldn’t ask Mr. Henley about—”
“Rex,” he said, correcting her, putting Piglet back in his cage.
“And my son-in-law would be proud to tell you this place has a carbon footprint of next to nothing. Passive, he calls it. Geothermal heating and cooling, solar panels running the power, a compost system, and the whole thing’s insulated using technology from the international space station.
It’s ugly as sin if you ask my wife, but it’s efficient.
Can I get y’all anything?” Mr. Henley said. “How about a beer, Otto?”
He opened a drawer in the side of the island, and Greta saw rows and rows of canned and bottled drinks.
“No, thank you,” said Otto. “I think I only need to sleep. It was a quite long day.”
Rex patted the dogs on the head. “They’ve been out already,” he said, “so they’re ready for bed too. Hey, Captain, unlock the back door.”
There was a click, and Rex opened it and stepped outside.
Otto shook his head in sleepy amazement.
“Why do you say ‘Captain’?” Greta asked. It seemed silly to name what was essentially a computer.
“Because from our house,” Rex said, smiling, “this place looks like a Carnival cruise ship. Good night, then.” He tipped an imaginary hat, closed the door behind him, and walked away.
“How do you turn off the music?” Greta called after Rex, but he did not hear her.
He crossed the slate patio and faded into the darkness at the far side of the yard.
He hadn’t told her the names of the dogs or where she and Otto were supposed to sleep.
Greta wished she were back at home and could climb into her own bed.
The lead singer was screaming quite loudly now about packing a lunch and going to a lake. “Turn off the music,” Greta said to the house. But the song kept playing.
Greta turned around to find Otto had disappeared. Only the cat was there, perched on the counter, staring at her, lashing its tail.