27. New York #2
He had, Greta remembered, at an outdoor party at his parents’ villa. He’d presumably had too much to drink or said the wrong thing to the wrong person, because she remembered his mother pulling him away from a group of guests and marching him inside the house.
In the intervening years, Tobias had become dashing, and Greta could see why her mother was smitten. “So,” he said, “shall we go up?”
“That’s okay,” Greta said. “We can wait for her in the lobby.”
“No, it’s fine. She’ll want you to see our room.”
Our room. Greta glanced at Emmi to see whether she’d caught that too, but her daughter was preoccupied by her phone.
Greta tried to breathe as Tobias walked them down the marble hall to the elevators, and as they rode up to the fourteenth floor, she could only hope that there were two beds in the room.
“What are you doing these days?” Greta said to break the awkward silence. “Last I heard, you were working for your parents.”
“Yes,” he said, shaking his head, “that ended badly. My parents and I are estranged, unfortunately. For the time being,” he added. “I always hold out hope for a reconciliation.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Greta said as they stepped off the elevator. She had the feeling another guardrail had just come off; not even his parents were keeping tabs on their wayward son.
He walked them down the hall and flashed a key card, opening the door into an elegant living room that was painted a buttery yellow and had large windows overlooking the park.
As racy and sensual as her hotel room was downtown, this place was the opposite, proper and staid.
Greta was deeply relieved it was a suite; at least she would be spared the embarrassment of seeing their possibly unmade bed.
Emmi went over to take in the view of Central Park, as Greta cast her eyes around for a sign of her mother.
“I’ll go check on Lillian,” Tobias said, putting his shopping bag on an armchair before walking out of the room.
Everything about this situation was setting off alarm bells; what if Tobias was an actual con man?
Emmi sat with Greta on the couch. “My apartment sucks compared to this,” she said.
“Then it’s good you have to be at work all the time,” Greta said.
Tobias came back into the room, saying, “Lillian’s getting out of the bath. Meine Güte , I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you, Greta. I have so many memories of our families spending time together when we were kids. Your parents were the nicest people I knew.”
Greta ignored this attempt at connecting. She decided she would have to get answers, even with her daughter sitting right beside her. “ Hor zu , Tobias, Bettina and I would like to know—”
“How is Bettina?” he said, taking a seat across from them on the edge of a Queen Anne chair. “Did she ever tell you I used to be madly in love with her? I hope I wasn’t too embarrassing, but I’m pretty sure I wrote her some terrible poetry.”
Lillian breezed into the room then wearing a bathrobe and slippers, her hair wrapped in a towel. “Hello,” she called out. “So sorry I’m not presentable yet. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
Greta got up to greet her mother. She had color in her cheeks and was smiling widely.
Lillian was not a hugger, but she held Greta’s shoulders and gave them a squeeze.
Then she reached out to Emmi, holding her hand and admiring the bracelet on her wrist, touching its little charms. “You’re wearing my graduation present,” she said.
“Always,” Emmi said.
“I want to hear all about the new job,” Lillian said.
“It’s just an internship with a law professor,” Emmi said modestly. “I start tomorrow.”
“I was telling Tobias earlier,” Lillian said, still holding Emmi’s hand, “that I was about your age when I met your grandfather here in New York. He was in town for work, and next thing I knew I was moving to Germany with him and having babies and building a whole life in another country. This very summer you could fall in love with someone from… Japan, and next thing you know, you’ll be moving to Yokohama and speaking Japanese. ”
“Too far away,” Greta said.
But Emmi was smiling. “Or he’ll move somewhere for me,” she said.
“Either way,” Lillian said. “It goes to show you never know whose path you might cross and what change will come of it.”
“I made a reservation at the restaurant downstairs,” Tobias said.
“He hates to nudge me,” her mother said, finally letting go of Emmi, “but I’m late for everything these days. I’ll go get dressed.”
“No rush at all,” Tobias said. “In fact, I have a little present for you.” With childlike enthusiasm, he picked up the bag from Bergdorf’s and handed it to Lillian.
Greta was bewildered as she watched her mother tighten the sash on her terry-cloth robe before taking the bag and sitting on a chair.
“Tobias, you shouldn’t have,” Lillian said. “He spoils me.”
“No, it’s just a little something to get you in the mood,” he said, and perched on the arm of her chair.
Greta could not begin to understand what was happening. She and Emmi sat back down as Lillian opened the bag and unwrapped tissue from a royal-blue, beaded… nightgown?
“How beautiful,” her mother said, holding the garment to her body.
“Mom,” Greta said, “ what is—”
“A caftan! I’ve never had one. I’ll be the most elegant passenger on the boat.”
“Boat?” said Emmi.
“What boat?” said Greta.
“Haven’t you told them?” Lillian said.
“I thought you should,” said Tobias.
Lillian turned to them. “Just last night,” she said, “Tobias got a call from a friend—or a client really—who asked if he wanted to sail his yacht from Ensenada to Vancouver. And Tobias invited me to come along.”
Greta felt as though all the rules of the universe were being broken. This made no sense. “You’re going on a boat with who? From where to where?”
“She’s a sixty-foot Oyster,” said Tobias, excitement in his eyes. “There will be six of us on board—five guests and a crew member—sailing for a month or so from Baja to British Columbia. We fly out tomorrow morning.”
“I’m sorry,” Greta said, “but this is— Did you say client ? What exactly do you do, Tobias?”
“Nothing really,” he said. “I sell dinghies.”
“Oh, don’t be modest,” Lillian said, “we’ve talked about this. You have every reason to present yourself with confidence. Tobias is not only a capable captain, he has a very successful company that makes sleek, inflatable boats that all the big yachts need to get to land.”
“My parents still think I’ll go bankrupt any moment,” he said, “but we’re doing okay actually. In fact, we just made a sale to your former boss, Herr Schultz.”
“He has a yacht?” Greta said.
“And a dinghy to go with it,” said Tobias. “It’s a niche business, but it turns out a lot of wealthy people need what we sell.”
Greta recalled that day years ago on the Wannsee, ten-year-old Tobias flinging himself overboard.
She tried to imagine her widowed mother boarding a boat the next day with this reckless man and his pals.
In Mexico. There could be hurricanes. Or pirates.
Her mother was over seventy. “Honestly,” Greta said, “I think this is a terrible idea—”
“ Mom ,” said Emmi, exasperation and embarrassment in her voice, “she wants to go. I think it’s cool.”
“It sounds very dangerous to me,” said Greta.
“Not at all,” said Tobias, and he put a hand to his heart. “It’s going to be a spectacular voyage.”
That did not make Greta feel better.
“Oyster,” he said, “is a top-of-the-line British yachts builder that makes the most luxurious, well-crafted, safest boats in the world—”
“You could literally be describing the Titanic right now,” Greta said. She took a deep breath and sat up straight. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask. Are you two…?” She pointed at her mother and then at Tobias and back again.
“Are we… what?” her mother said.
“You know,” said Greta, who could never be as blunt as her sister.
Tobias and her mother looked at each other. And then they started to laugh.
Emmi covered her face.
“Oh, my goodness, Greta,” Lillian said, folding the caftan back in the tissue, “what an imagination you have!”
“ Deine Mutter ist wundershon ,” Tobias said, placing a hand on Lillian’s shoulder, “but no. I’m just happy to be friends with a woman your mother’s age who doesn’t think I’m completely worthless.”
“Tobias’s parents were always so hard on him,” Lillian said, frowning. “They still are.”
“Well, even so—and I’m sorry for jumping to the wrong conclusion,” Greta said, relieved on the one hand, and yet all the more baffled on the other, “why would you want to go off on a boat trip with a bunch of strangers? Come to Dallas with me instead. You can wear your new caftan by the swimming pool.”
“Of course I’ll visit you,” her mother said, “but I don’t want to miss the chance to cruise up the coast of California.
I plan to do a lot of traveling in the coming years, which is precisely why I sold the house.
And I may as well tell you, while I’m at it: I’ve decided to sell the beach cottage as well. ”
Emmi let out a gasp.
“I know you’re very attached to the house and to the Baltic,” Lillian said quickly, “but I don’t want the responsibility anymore. It’s time to let it go.” She motioned her hands then as if she were shooing away a minor annoyance. “I’m relieved to get that off my chest.”
Emmi stood up, looking like she’d been slapped. “Where’s the bathroom?” she said.
“Use mine,” said Tobias. “Past the entry on the right.”
So, this was a two-bedroom suite. Greta wished she’d asked for a tour as soon as they’d come in and saved them all some embarrassment.
Emmi left the room.
“Honestly,” Greta said, knowing her daughter would return with swollen eyes, a red nose, and a wadded-up tissue in her fist, “did you have to drop a bomb like that the night before she starts her job?”
“Is there ever a good time to drop a bomb?” her mother said. “That house is in terrible shape, and I don’t want to spend my last years on this earth dealing with plumbers and carpenters and roofers. In German . I’ve already called a Realtor.”
“Slow down,” Greta said, “ bitte , before you do something so… irreversible.”
“I agree with Greta,” Tobias said, “not that it’s any of my business, but I don’t see the rush.”
It certainly wasn’t his business, but Greta was glad Tobias wasn’t behind this decision.
“Then I’m sorry to disappoint all three of you,” her mother said, standing up. “But I’m alone now, and I need to move on without burdens holding me down. I don’t expect you to understand, but that’s the way it is.” She took her caftan and marched out of the room.
Greta and Tobias sat in awkward silence for a few seconds. “Would you like a glass of wine?” he said.
“Please,” she said. She waited while he went to the bar to open a bottle. “I’m sorry,” she finally said, “that I thought you were sleeping with my mother.”
Tobias turned and looked around the room. “I can see how this all might have been falsch verstanden .”
“Well, I apologize for misreading the situation. But I still don’t understand this… friendship,” she said. “You got a nice invitation to go travel on a yacht with friends. Why bring my mother along?”
“I think she’ll enjoy it,” he said plainly. “And I like her company.”
“Why?” Greta said. “Who’s going to be on this boat anyway?”
“Three guys I know, all sailing enthusiasts,” he said. “ Keine Sorge .”
But Greta was worried. She pictured a frat party, drunk men on a boat playing childish games, ignoring her mother or endangering her. “I don’t like this plan,” Greta said, “and I think you’d have more fun without her there.”
“Maybe our friendship doesn’t make sense to you,” Tobias said, pouring the wine, “but I really want her to come. I have the feeling when I’m with her that good things will happen.” He walked over to her and offered her a glass.
Greta gratefully accepted it and took a sip.
“I don’t mean to encroach on your family,” he said, “but Lillian’s a breath of fresh air after a lifetime with a mother who always thought the very worst of me.”
Greta wanted to argue, but he’d taken the wind out of her sails. “Just… don’t let anything bad happen to her,” she said.
“I promise,” he said. He glanced toward the doorway. “Do you think Emmi’s okay?”
“I’ll go get her,” Greta said, getting up. “The news about the beach house is heartbreaking for her.”
She walked out to find her, but Emmi was right there in the entry, standing halfway inside an open coat closet.
“What are you doing?” Greta said.
“Nothing,” she said, turning around, her face perfectly composed. “Should we go eat?” And she walked past Greta into the living room, light on her feet, hands in her dress pockets.
Greta had come all the way to New York and felt more concerned about her mother, not less, and more concerned about Emmi, not less. Lose-lose , she thought. She hoped her trip to the Met tomorrow would give her a win.