36. Dallas
DALLAS
At high noon, Greta stepped out of the American Airlines terminal at DFW into the sweltering heat. There was Otto, waiting at the curb in Lucy’s minivan. He got out of the car, flashing her a bright smile.
“Why, Otto,” she said, practically blinded, “what did you do?”
“Very white, ja ?” he said, running his tongue over his teeth. “Irene made an appointment for me at the dental office where she works. I had Zoom! laser treatment.”
“Goodness,” she said.
“Now I am all the time smiling.”
That would take some getting used to. They hugged quickly and went to put her suitcase in the back of the car.
“And is that a new shirt?” she said, reaching to adjust his collar. “I’m not used to seeing you in red.”
“I went to the Gap,” he said. “Troy is taking me to his country club tomorrow, so I have bought golf shirts. Do you like it?”
“You look very young,” she said. “And slim.” All the laps in the pool were starting to make a difference in Otto’s shoulders and torso.
He pulled in his stomach and stood up taller. “How was the rest of your trip? I still can’t believe our Emmi ran away to the beach. That was very strange.”
“She had her reasons,” Greta said, not entirely sure that even she had the whole story. As they said their goodbyes in Newark Airport, it felt as if Emmi might have a few more secrets she was keeping.
They got into the car, and Greta buckled her seat belt, looking out the windshield at the beige concrete and the blue sky in front of her.
“And you picked a side in your battle,” Otto said. “Herr Schultz must be very angry to know you are making doubts about the Vermeer.”
“He is,” she said.
“Yet you really believe a young girl made such a painting? Would it not have been better to say nothing about it?”
“Some fights are worth having,” she said.
“I disagree. Why wake up a dog that is sleeping?” he said.
She didn’t expect Otto to understand. Greta decided to change the subject. “I’m glad I got to meet Lucy. I like her family so much,” she said.
“Irene and Rex are Salz der Erde ,” he said. “And your mother is feeling better?”
“Yes, she’s flying from LA to Berlin tonight.” While she’d waited at her gate at Newark, Lucy had texted a thumbs-up and then asked—at her boss Harper’s request—whether Tobias was single, gay or straight, whether he might sail back through LA, might like to have a glass of wine.
“I forgot to tell you,” Greta said, “that I got an email from that woman Lisa who sat with us at the Judsons’ party. She’s married to a plastic surgeon.”
“The Larkins,” said Otto.
“Yes, she’s interested in hiring me.”
“ Wunderbar ,” said Otto. “That’s just what you need here, a project.”
“I’ll take her to a few art galleries next week and see what we can find,” Greta said.
Otto began nodding his head along to the country music playing from the car’s speakers. “I have invited Sylvie to the party since she invited me to hers,” Otto said.
“Party?” said Greta.
“Yes,” he said. “And please no worries because I am doing all the cooking.”
“Cooking?” she said. “You never mentioned a party.”
“ Doch ,” he said. “I told you. I invited Troy and Kristy, Betsy and Bob, plus two other couples from the medical school. They are all coming tonight.”
“Otto, no,” she said.
“Yes,” he said proudly.
“But I’ve been traveling all day—”
“I am taking care of everything,” he said. “I have done all the shopping at Costco, and Sylvie is bringing a dessert.”
This was the last way she wanted to spend her evening. “Since when do you throw parties?”
“I finally know people I like. It will be big fun tonight, and you don’t have to make any work. You can be my hostess.”
She did not want to be his hostess. She would rather crawl into Lucy’s bed and go to sleep. She would rather fly back to Berlin.
When they pulled up to the house, there was a van parked at the curb. A man wearing khakis and a button-down approached them as they got out of the car.
“Excuse me,” he said, taking off his dark glasses. “Are you Lucy Holt?”
“No,” said Greta. “She’s not here.”
“We’re doing a story on her husband, Mason. Do you know when she’ll be back?”
“I’m sorry,” Greta said, “I can’t help you.”
Otto came around the front of the car as the man handed Greta a business card.
“Can you give this to her? Tell her we’d like a comment on what it’s like being married to People ’s Sexiest Man Alive.”
Greta took the card and handed it to Otto.
“Mason is becoming famous,” he said as the man walked away.
“It must be very hard for Lucy and Mason to be apart so long.”
But Otto’s mind was elsewhere. He opened the door to the house and the dogs rushed to meet them, wagging their tails and rolling over on their backs. Greta leaned over to pat them, adjusting to the chill of the indoors.
Then she rolled her bag to Lucy’s bedroom and left it unopened in the closet.
Otto was wearing an apron.
Greta watched him from the kitchen window as he poked the steaks and sausages and flipped them, checking a timer on his phone.
When he came back inside, he went to the refrigerator and popped open a can of Coors Light. “Mmmm,” he said, “ lecker .”
“You hate American beer,” she said. “You always say it tastes like water.”
He swallowed and wiped his upper lip. “It does,” he said, “but in this heat, it’s very nice.” He took a large platter from a cabinet and went back outside.
Greta folded napkins and counted out forks and knives until Otto brought the steaks in and covered them with foil. “I think I got ’em just right,” he said.
There was something odd in his inflection. In spite of his grammar and vocabulary, Otto sounded almost… Texan.
“Hey, Captain,” he said loudly, “turn on Kelly Clarkson.”
The music came through the speakers in the ceiling, and Otto hummed along. He opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of hot sauce for a corn dish he was preparing. Otto did not eat spicy food.
“Did I tell you my good news?” he said.
“I wondered if we were celebrating something.”
“Troy and I replicated my study, and the International Journal of Bone and Joint has published a retraction of Moritz’s paper. I’ve been… entlastet?”
“Exonerated.”
“And Moritz wrote to apologize to me.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said. “A truce will make returning to Charité so much more pleasant for you.” She came up from behind him and put her arms around him.
He patted her hands affectionately. “After dinner, we’ll have dessert in the family room so we don’t miss the game.”
“What game?” she said.
“Baseball,” he said. “The Rangers are playing.”
She had to hand it to him; Otto threw a very good party. His Costco steaks were excellent and he’d cooked them to perfection, which was hard for Greta to believe given his lack of experience in the kitchen.
When everyone had finished eating, Greta cleared a stack of plates and put them in the kitchen sink. She opened the back door to let the dogs out, as laughter erupted from the dining room.
“Your husband certainly seems to be enjoying himself,” Bob said, setting an empty platter on the counter.
Otto was, in fact, having the time of his life.
Bob came closer. “So this is the famous Holt house,” he said, looking around the kitchen. “Goes to show there is such a thing as too modern.”
“I’ve come to like it,” Greta said. Tank and Bunny came back in, and she closed the door. “It has lovely light.”
“You know what else is lovely—” Bob bit his lower lip and raised his eyebrows, making a face that was apparently supposed to convey lust.
“My husband and I feel very lucky,” Greta said, abruptly walking away to keep the kitchen island between them, “that we found such a nice family to swap homes.”
“ Nice family?” Bob scoffed. “You’re joking, right? Lucy’s a terrible mother, and her kid should be in jail—”
“Shut up,” Greta said in a tight whisper, pointing a finger in his face. “You don’t know them, and you don’t know anything about what happened.”
“Sweetheart,” he said, “lighten up.”
“If you say one more disparaging word about Jack, Lucy, or any of the Holts, you’ll be sorry.”
Bob took a step back and smiled. “Well, well, look at you. You’re even sexier when you’re mad.”
Greta glared at him. “Your daughter is—how old? Nine? Ten? You think she’ll never do anything to shock or disappoint you. But she probably will, and I hope the people around you show her more kindness than you’ve shown to Jack and his family.”
“Okay, okay,” he said, holding his hands up as though she were holding him at gunpoint.
Sylvie came into the kitchen then with two empty wine bottles, flashing a look of concern as she glanced between them.
Bob gave a curt nod and slinked back to the dining room.
“Hmm,” Sylvie said. “I don’t want to gossip, but between you and me, I hear that man’s a snake.”
Sylvie had not brought one dessert. She had brought three: a pecan pie, a peach cobbler, and pineapple upside-down cake. Otto had a serving of each.
Troy clinked his glass and stood up next to Otto, who was sitting at the head of the table looking happier than Greta had ever seen him. “If I could have the floor a moment,” Troy said. “Dr. von Bosse here tells me Germans love a speech.”
“It’s true,” said Otto. “We do.”
“Well, we published a good study,” he said.
“So first off, cheers to that.” He raised a glass, and Betsy whooped.
“You’re a great addition to the team, Boss,” he said with a hand on Otto’s shoulder.
“I’ve been in conversations with the provost the last couple of weeks because we want to bring you on full-time. ”
Greta’s breath caught in her throat as Otto lit up, a gratified, open smile on his face.
“And by that, I mean a permanent position,” Troy said, “assuming we can persuade you and Greta to move to Dallas.”
Otto looked around the table, his mouth agape. Betsy started clapping her hands. Someone else was whistling.