Julio sat with Odetta and Fenton. The Club was empty. None of the regulars were in and, as usual, Fenton was opening. It was early yet—just past two in the afternoon—and the three had nothing to do.
Julio Sanabria looked at his two co-workers. "For two bits, I'd get rid of everything and move away from here! Lousy daughter and her kids, stinking mortgage . . . I should just leave them, and all the rest of this crap."
Fenton Mase nodded. "Grantville just ain't worth hanging around anymore. Hell, everyone except the regulars either won't talk to me or figures I'm just as big a racist as most of the crowd around here."
Odetta Thorpe spat tobacco juice into a coffee cup. "Look. It could be worse; you could be like me. Half the down-timers think I'm sick and the other half think I'm a whore. I sure ain't going to try to compete with the likes of Hot Pants Cooper or Angie for the few single men who come in here."
Julio growled something that nearly made Odetta swallow her wad of tobacco. "Sorry, Julio. I forgot!"
"Come on, Julio. You have to admit it. Angie has earned her reputation." Fenton snorted. "She has the twins and she has another bun or two in the oven right now. Besides, she was in here last night with Hot Pants before she took off."
Julio felt like he'd been kicked. It had been busy and he'd been stuck in the back. The regulars had been hollering about how it wasn't right, having all those Krauts on the police force. Then there had been an altercation between Ronnie Murray and someone else—it didn't matter who. Ronnie had been given the old heave ho.
Somewhere between the fight, his sixth burger and fries order, and washing the skillets again to make more fries, Angie and Hot Pants had left. Connie had, once again, been a no-show, leaving him to pull double duty.
Being chief cook and bottle washer in the Club 250 was no joke. He'd been stuck watching the fries so they wouldn't burn in the lard. Making French fries was a lot more work now that the cooking oil had either run out or been taken for some other use. Actually, Julio thought the fries had a better flavor, but to hear the regulars bellyache, you'd think they were being forced to eat shit.
Julio snapped back to reality when he heard the voices of Ape and Monkey Hart. It was time to get into the kitchen. The two jerks would want their standard burgers, fries and beer.
"Well, that's it." Fenton tapped out his pipe. "Time to earn our dollar."
Odetta spat her tobacco wad into the cup and handed it to Julio. "Damn it, Odetta! You could at least dump the thing out and rinse it."
"Got customers, Julio. You wouldn't want Ken to fire me, would you?" Odetta smirked.
"Forget it, Julio," Fenton said. "The way Ken has been losing waitresses—and I've had to do their work, too—I don't want Odetta fired."
Julio marched into the kitchen. Damn Fenton and Odetta! Like Fenton busted butt behind the bar. And Odetta sure didn't hustle. She spent more time leaning against the bar shooting the breeze with Fenton than serving customers.
"Hey! Git over here and take a payin' customer's order." Ape Hart yelled across the room.
It was just another day at the Club. Tonight, he'd have to go home, let the babysitter leave, and supposedly watch Angie's twins, Julie and Juanita. Hell, he was usually so tired he just collapsed. But the poor kids only had the babysitter and him most of the time.
Damn Angie! Why couldn't she be like her sister, Amy? Now that girl had a future. Angie was pregnant again and didn't even know who this father was. What a surprise.
Julio checked the temperature of the deep pan of lard. At any moment, Odetta would yell for burgers and fries. He would be glad when Connie started her shift. Then he'd just have to wash the dishes and prep cook if it got busy. Things just kept getting worse at the 250. Since that crap with young Tommy, her brother-in-law, Connie just didn't work as many hours.
Julio scraped the charred tobacco from the clay bowl of his pipe. He'd broken two of them since he'd started smoking a pipe. He couldn't buy cigarettes anymore, something about not having decent paper for them. Besides, no one wanted to make them anyway.
He wouldn't mind if someone did, but he had the feeling that wouldn't happen any time soon. Besides, tobacco wasn't all that cheap and there was only one tobacco shop in Grantville. It was owned by a Dutchman and Spaniard.
It was break time. Connie Cooper had finally shown up. She watched the kitchen while Fenton had the bar and Odetta worked the tables.
The more Julio thought about it, the more he realized that he really had to get out of Grantville. It wasn't just Angie, the twins, or even the job. His life had gone to downhill when Juanita had had her accident back in ninety-two. It had been all he could do to cope with her injuries, much less try to raise three kids.
If his cousin, Sergio, and his wife hadn't helped out, the whole lot probably would have turned out like Angie. But John and Amy were good kids. That was Sergio and Janie's doing more than his.
The best thing he could do for everyone was to just sell out and leave. Go off somewhere and start over again.
It would serve Angie right if he dumped her and she had to fend totally for herself. Maybe someone would take the twins and give them a decent home. John and Amy could fend for themselves. They were both pretty self-sufficient as it was. They certainly didn't need him. He didn't have much of a relationship with either of them, anyway.
"Julio, your break is up! Get back in here!" Odetta yelled. Ken must have come in and she was warning him before the boss decided he was loafing.
Hell, he hadn't even started his smoke. He pocketed the pipe and headed back to the kitchen. He saw the back of Odetta's bean-pole shape, skinny butt, and chicken legs as she made for the main floor. Connie was flipping a couple of burgers and a pan of grease was spitting. He was going to have to peel some more potatoes and have them ready and soaking in a bowl for Connie.
He didn't have any dishes in the sink right now, so he was supposed to make sure she had things on hand for the burgers and fries. That meant slicing the bread, preparing the potatoes and onion slices. All that kind of crap had to be done between washing dishes. There was no lettuce or tomatoes this time of year, which made his job easier.
Tonight, when he got home, he'd have some of the shine he'd stashed in the pantry—if Angie hadn't found where he'd hidden it. He would give some serious thought about where to go and what to do while he sat back with a big tumbler of hooch.
Julio dragged in from the Club. Three thirty-seven in the morning and his house was a pig sty. Angie's babysitter was still here, crashed on the couch with the old crib next to her. The twins were asleep, which was good. If they would only stay that way until he got a few hours of shuteye himself. They were nearly into their terrible twos. He could still remember Angie at that age. She had been the worst of his three kids, but the twins were putting her to shame.
He felt like kicking Angie right out the door. Damn her staying out all night. If he didn't help pay for the babysitter he didn't know who would take care of her kids. He was too busy working and John and Amy had their own lives. He wouldn't expect either of his two younger kids to help him, and certainly not Angie. It was a good thing Juanita hadn't been able to see what her daughter had become.
Julio shuddered, headed for his room, and nearly slipped on part of a newspaper the babysitter had let fall near the couch. He picked it up, intending to wad it and throw the thing against the wall. His eye caught a bold headline about the rapid growth and opportunities in Magdeburg, the capitol of the CPE or whatever.
Hadn't Magdeburg been burnt to the ground? Well, damn! Julio headed for the kitchen to read the paper. Let the babysitter sleep. He looked around for the bottle of shine, which Angie hadn't found. He pulled the cork and took a swig.
He looked at the paper and, for the first time since the Ring Of Fire, saw news that wasn't filtered through people like the Coopers and Harts.
Maybe life would be better in a place like Magdeburg. It mentioned the planned navy base in the article. Julio thought about all the new service businesses that would be springing up around the base. Magdeburg might just be the place for him to go.
Julio laid the paper down on the cluttered table, took one more pull on the bottle, and hid it again. He walked past the babysitter and the twins. He'd sleep on the idea about getting away from here. Maybe things would be clearer in the morning.
It was absolutely dead in the Club. Fenton Mase and Odetta Thorpe wandered into the kitchen. Julio was kicked back, looking at a paper. "Horse shit! Julio, you know better than to bring anything German into the Club. Ken or one of the regulars see that, and all hell will bust loose."
"Look at this, Fenton." Julio held the paper up for him to see.
"You know I can't read that crap!" growled Fenton. "What's it say that's worth knowing about?
Julio translated as he read Fenton the article about Magdeburg's growth. "You know, the more I look at this, the more I think I'll just pack up and go."
"You have to be crazy to even consider it!" Fenton's voice was sarcastic.
"No. Think about it. I looked it up. Magdeburg is far enough away that I ain't goin' to have a bunch of people remembering me as one of the Club 250 trash; but it isn't that far away. At least it will be better than here."
Fenton snorted. "Hell! Julio, that place isn't America! It's full of foreigners and the US Navy Base there isn't American—even if that is what the paper says. They don't even got 'lectric or flush shitters there. Magdeburg ain't civilized yet."
"Well, I'm seriously thinking of going. What do I have here? A job washing dishes and flipping burgers for a bunch of shitheads nobody likes. They don't even like each other."
Julio stopped Fenton before he could say anything. "Don't give me any crap about the good old boys. You know as well as I do, the Club has been going downhill since that first election. And how many waitresses has this place gone through? Brandy quit; Marlene quit; and Angie isn't worth a hill of beans even when she does show. All the good ol' boys do is complain about how everything would be better if it weren't for all the Germans—or Mike Stearns, or the sky isn't blue today. I don't need this no more."
Fenton started to rebut Julio but thought again. "Read that to me again. But get the paper out of here before Ken sees it."
"Yeah, read it again, Julio," Odetta added, a look of wanderlust in her eyes.
Julio started reading the article once more. Two people seemed to think he had stumbled onto something.
A few days later, Julio had made up his mind and headed down to Grantville Homes and Land. He saw Huddy Colburn himself. He wanted to sell his home and fast. It wasn't a case of going for the best price. When Juanita had been injured in ninety-two, he'd pretty much given up on life. Since the accident, his rock and confidante couldn't give him the support he had come to rely on. It had almost been a blessing when she had finally passed away in 1632.
He hadn't been much of a father after Juanita's accident. His cousin and his wife were more parents to his youngest two children than he'd been. Maybe that was why they had turned out better than Angie. She'd been sixteen at the time and had just gone wild—too wild. Her life had been spiraling downhill ever since.
Huddy made an offer of his own for the lot and house. Some major work was going to have to be done to bring the place up to standards. Julio had allowed the house to fall apart bit by bit. Huddy had made sure he understood that he was going below market value on the place; but it was going to cost him to have the place repaired for later sale.
Well, it wasn't like Julio wanted to wait around for Huddy to put the place on the market and wait around for a bite. He'd decided to leave, and that was final.
"Two weeks enough time to vacate the place?" Huddy had asked.
Two weeks was more than enough time. The next day, Huddy had the contract and the check for the place ready. Julio had two weeks to pack up and go. Magdeburg or bust. So long, Grantville.
Julio had just finished telling his oldest daughter that he was leaving. And that she would have to find someplace else to live. It had taken two days to catch her and she now had less than two weeks to find a new place.
Angie Sanabria glared at her father. "What do you mean, you've sold the house and I'll have to find somewhere else to live? This is my home, too, you know!"
Julio looked at his daughter and smiled. "It was my home. You just live here. How much have you contributed to maintenance and food? Now it belongs to Grantville Homes and Land. I could have sold it for more, but I just want out of here. So I dumped it for the first offer. After the bank grabbed their share to pay back the mortgage, there isn't all that much left. Finally, if you'd ever been around, you'd have known what I was going to do."
"You can't do this, Papa! Where will me and the twins live now? And where are you going to live?"
"I don't know where you'll be living, to tell you the truth. You have your partying friends and can probably live with one of them." Julio pointed to himself. "Me? I'm moving to Magdeburg. So you'll just have to grow up and take care of your own life."
"You can't do this!"
He looked at her. "That's where you're wrong, Angie. I can do it and I'm going to. You have to learn there's more to life than just one big party."
Odetta listened while her two co-workers talked about moving to Magdeburg. They even had a plan for starting a business there. Both had something to put in, though most of the money and other things would be coming from Julio Sanabria.
"I can sell the trailer, even if I don't own the lot it sits on. That will give me some money. And I should be able to get something for the Bronco." Fenton had joined in the plan to move.
"How about letting me come along? I can wait tables." Odetta watched the sour looks invade both men's faces. "Okay, I can do fast foods, too. I've done the short order cook routine in Norfolk, Baltimore, and Akron. I can be of use and I want to leave, too."
Julio studied her like she was a dog with two heads. Granted, she didn't really get along with most people, except Estil Congden. But hell. She hadn't planned on making Grantville her home. It had been one of those stopovers before she moved on to greener pastures.
"Why the hell not?" Julio looked at Fenton. "Let's all tell Ken we're quitting at the same time. I really want to see the look on his face."
Odetta and Fenton both laughed, but it was short lived. The first of the regulars arrived. It was time to go to work.
Fenton counted the money he'd received for the rundown trailer he'd owned for the last umpteen years and smiled. For now, he was staying in the same flophouse the new Krauts stayed in. He'd stayed in worse, though not by much.
The Krauts weren't too bad. No worse than Freddie Congden or the Hart brothers. Fenton wasn't going to think about that scum bucket, Ronnie Murray. Actually, the Germans were better. At least they were polite and not ordering him around all the time. He had moved what he wanted to keep into the storage unit he had rented and sold the rest. For now, the money was going into the bank until he needed it. There was no use tempting fate and ending up blowing it on something stupid. Well, maybe he could tie one on and celebrate, but not at the Club 250. Crappola! He could start out at the Gardens and then move on to Tips.
Fenton was tired of being treated lower than dirt by most of the up- and down-timers. He figured Julio was right. There was no future in staying with the Club 250. Boy, had he enjoyed watching Ken howl when the three of them quit together. Let Ken do his own bartending. Damn! He'd thought Ken was going to have a heart attack right there on the spot! Oh, well. It wasn't his problem anymore.
He was going to go with Julio and Odetta. Maybe they could, finally, find someplace they could live where their pasts wouldn't haunt them. Grantville sure wasn't his cup of tea anymore. It was time to move on.
Angie had checked with her so-called friends. Papa was right. There was nothing here worth staying around for. Everyone thought she was a trashy whore and with Papa gone she would have nobody. She had alienated her brother and sister. Even her cousins had no use for her. She was going to take the twins and go with Papa, whether he knew it or not. Besides, she was pregnant again and she wasn't sure who the hell the father was. Just one problem after another.
Her so-called friend, Tiffany, said she could stay with her and her folks for a few days, but she would have to take care of her own daughters. No one at the Cooper place would baby-sit for her. Papa would be leaving in just over a week with Fenton Mase and Odetta Thorpe. For now she would just have to impose on the Coopers for a while longer than her welcome was for. Well, it wasn't like she would be around to have to mend any fences after she left Grantville with Papa.
She wondered what the people in Magdeburg did for fun. There was going to be a Navy base there and she'd heard sailors were really great for having a good time. She'd find out after they got settled there.
Julio went through the things he wanted crated. There was a nearly thirty-year-old set of Encyclopedia Britannica; all of Angie's old Golden Books; his Louis L'amour books, all eight of them; and the home improvement book set Juanita had signed him up for.
They'd received almost half of the large card-like page inserts before they stopped the monthly installments to the book. Most of it was just not going to be of much use. How to apply vinyl flooring was just not going to be a big thing. Forget the special glue, where would he get rolls of vinyl flooring to start with? He flipped through the book and laughed. Here was a good one. How to apply wallpaper. Well, it might be useful. Didn't his grandfather use paper sacks to cover his walls and then paint them? He threw the home improvement book into the crate. Hadn't his grandfather made wheat paste to put the paper up? How had he made it? The answer might be in the encyclopedia.
He placed all his power tools to one side. The circular saw and jig saw were going to do him no good without electricity. Those, he would pass on to Amy. John was off with the military somewhere, he thought. He'd lost track of him.
The bow saw and rip saw he packed. All four hammers went into the box. He thought he'd lost three of them. He had bought new ones to replace the lost ones. The old single jack went into a case along with three wood chisels. The tool box containing four combo wrenches, two pliers, a handful of screw drivers, and a socket set with a broken ratchet and half the sockets missing would also go to Amy. He hadn't realized that so much of his stuff was junk, but maybe she would have a use for it.
There was a camping hatchet he'd never used and an old Coleman lantern. The hatchet he pitched into the crate and he placed the lantern with the power tools. Two boxes of 30-06 shells from twenty years ago appeared among the junk. Into the crate they went.
Juanita's wedding dress took a moment for him to make a decision about. He didn't remember putting it out here. Hadn't he thrown it away with her other things? He folded it and placed it into the crate. Damn! He had to dig out one of the hammers he'd packed to nail the lid down and start a new crate.
Three coffee cans of screws and nails went into the next crate. Clothing came next. These clothes were made from synthetics and were still in good shape. Regrettably, the pants and shirts didn't fit him anymore, but they might again. Additional clothing went into another crate. If he couldn't use them, he might be able to trade them. The clothes filled the second crate. Juanita would have donated the stuff to the church long ago. He'd just tossed them into the garage like so many other things.
Juanita's sewing machine appeared once the clothing was moved. It was just one more thing he thought he'd gotten rid of. How much more of these reminders remained? The small Singer needed electricity to work. He would sell it because Amy probably wouldn't want it.
Julio found the trowel and masonry tools he'd invested in when he thought he'd be a bricklayer. The job had never panned out. He put the masonry tools into the third crate on top of the extra clothes. They could still be of use; though where he would get cement, fire clay, and lime, he had no idea. Sand wasn't a problem. It was everywhere.
He finally found their old hand cranked meat grinders. He carefully packed them away. They would be needed, along with the spatulas, and two old barbeques. Charcoal would be no problem. Everything needed to be taken apart, cleaned, and oiled.
By the time he'd packed five crates, he'd weeded through the entire contents of his home and garage. Julio took the discarded materials he didn't think Amy could use out into the drive after he shoveled the snow clear and laid out a blue plastic tarp to protect everything from the dampness. He hammered a sign to the black walnut tree in front of the house and sat back in his lawn chair. It was colder than a witch's tit; but with a beer and the heavy mackinaw coat, he waited as passersby stopped to buy those items useless to him. One man's trash was another's treasure—or something like that.
It didn't take long for people to wander up and start asking how much for this or that. His answer was always the same. "Make me an offer."
His yard sale quickly turned into an auction. Things like the toaster went for more than he thought it cost new. That was figuring for the value of the dollar now as compared to before the Ring of Fire. The sewing machine went for a king's ransom, or so it seemed to him. He'd planned to spend the day sitting outside while bored neighbors went through his junk. Instead, it seemed like half of Grantville showed up to buy things he didn't want anymore.
What would he have made if everything had been maintained properly? He hadn't realized just how badly he'd let everything slide over the last twelve years. The only reason the house hadn't been the mess the garage had been was the babysitter, Barbara, had cleaned the place once in awhile.
Papa and his friends had two wagons filled with wooden cases. They had rented the wagons and teams from Old Man Bickrodt, promising to leave them with a friend of his who ran a stable and smithy outside of Magdeburg. Now Papa was going to find out she intended to go with him. Angie had already snuck her few plastic bags onto Papa's wagon while they had been inside having breakfast. They hadn't even noticed her things when Papa and Fenton had loaded the rest of his crates.
Angie made her way toward her father with the twins in tow. It was hard going because the girls were only toddlers, unsteady on their feet. Besides, she wasn't used to having them with her. It had been Barbara's job to take care of them. But without Papa paying most of her money, Barbara had found other employment.
Angie's mouth dropped open when Julio looked up. "Took you long enough. Well, get into the wagon and I'll pass Juanita and Julie up to you."
"But Papa!" Angie sounded more like a ten year old than a woman of nearly twenty-eight.
Her father shook his head. "If you thought I wouldn't find out what you were up to, you shouldn't have been smart mouthing Connie Cooper. Didn't you think that woman would track me down and start demanding I hurry up and get you out of town? She was so happy I was taking you away from her poor daughter, who you were corrupting with your whoring ways."
Angie started to protest but Julio glared at her. "Don't say a word, Angie, or I'll change my mind and leave you. If I can decide to start over somewhere else and get away from this place and everyone who knows me, I can give you the same chance. It's up to you whether you screw it up or not."
Angie climbed aboard and her father passed the girls up to her. Both were crying for Barbara. They didn't want to be with her. For some reason, it hurt. It hurt just the way her father talked to her. It had been a long time since anything had hurt like today.
Fenton had not been pleased about having Julio's daughter along. Angie was a waste of space. She was part of the party girl pack that included the Cooper girl. He didn't have much interest in them. There was no telling who they had been with and he didn't want to be pissing razor blades. No penicillin to get rid of that anymore. Three doses of the clap in his life had been enough for him. He had lived like a monk for the last two years. At least pretty much like a monk.
They'd brought their American weapons, but the up-time ammunition wouldn't last forever. They also purchased Struve-Reardon made musket-rifles and a set of the Hockenjoss and Klott revolvers each. Julio had misgivings about the revolvers. It was a matter of the supply of percussion caps.
That was why old Julio had also purchased a pair of flintlock pistols. He didn't want to be without weapons that would be easy to get the powder and lead for. Things wouldn't be all that safe on the road, even if the war was a long ways off and they were only traveling to Magdeburg. After all, they were leaving a place where real Americans were and heading deep into Krautland.
They had to travel through the snow and cold to get to Magdeburg. They were driving a treasure train with all their valuables aboard. Fenton smiled to himself. If they were attacked, maybe they could trade Angie off to the bandits and get them to leave the rest of them alone. No. It wouldn't be fair. The bandits would get the worst of the deal.
Fenton secured the last of the ropes. He checked the thirty-eight in the shoulder holster and prepared to climb into the wagon seat. Julio would lead out with his slut daughter and his bastard grandkids. Why the man wanted to drag them along was beyond him. It was just one more reason this trip was beginning to seem like a bad idea.
They had to face bad weather, days riding on a wagon, and finally starting over in Magdeburg.
Fenton pulled himself into the seat next to Odetta. He picked up the reins and followed Julio as he led out. Julio had come up with this hare-brained scheme. Hopefully, Julio knew what he was doing. Fenton no longer did.
Odetta spit a large brown stream of tobacco juice over the side of the wagon. Fenton shook his head. What a choice. Ride next to Angie and her screaming brats or the tobacco chewing human toothpick and her continual spitting.
It was going to be a long trip.
Fenton felt unsure about the outcome of their new adventure. What would happen if, for some reason, their plans didn't work out the way they hoped? Was this a new beginning for them, or was it the end of all their hopes and dreams?
Only time would tell. Farewell, Grantville. It's a nice place to be from.
Julio looked around their first night's camp. He had made a mistake in not stopping for the night in the last village. They were camping out in the shell of a hut of some type. This place had not been resettled for some reason. Whatever it was, it gave them some small amount of wall around their wagons and a break against the chill night breeze.
Already, Fenton had a fire going and Odetta and Angie had found the sleeping bags. With the exception of Fenton's bag, all the sleeping bags had come from him, left over from when Juanita had been healthy. There were four bags in all. There would have been a fifth, but he'd left it for Amy with the other things. The sleeping bags, like everything else that had been part of his life before Juanita's accident, had been thrown into the basement or garage. After the accident, there had never been another weekend of camping. The sleeping bags had been just another painful memory to be buried out of sight.
The twins screaming for Barbara had gotten on his nerves. They had finally stopped screaming for her by mid-day; but by then old, haunted memories had returned to add to his distraught nerves. Twice he'd started to pass the reins over to Angie and cradle his rifle at the ready as if it had been an M-16.
People in the villages they rolled through watched them from the sides of roads. It reminded him of riding as co-driver in a deuce with his M-16 pointed out the window while Dinks along the road watched their convoys roll by.
He had thought that he was getting a good job as a driver or co-driver on the convoys and not having to tramp through jungles and rice paddies of Viet Nam. He had been too young and dumb to realize that "convoy" actually meant "big target." Back then, he'd been a kid right out of Grantville and boot camp. When he'd been in convoy, he had never known who might wave as he drove by and then shoot at him or toss explosives into the deuce when they passed.
Here, the stares of the people they passed had brought back those old memories. It wasn't a good thing.
Julio knew they had nothing to fear in their present camp; but old memories were haunting him. He moved out beyond the shadows and squatted, his rifle at the ready. It would be a long night. He would take the first watch—maybe all night long—and let Fenton sleep. He could always switch places with Odetta and sleep in the wagon Fenton drove if he was up all night.
Angie made sure the twins were okay and rolled up the sleeping bags. Odetta was busy with a camp pot full of corn meal mush. The old blue speckled coffee pot Papa and Mama had used on camping trips was steaming with hot water. There was no coffee. But there was herbal tea, not the real stuff. There had been no Lipton for ages and coffee was an expensive luxury that none of them drank any longer. It seemed to Angie that with the remaining wealth from the sale of the house and personal junk, Papa could have well afforded it. But the past couple of years of doing without had had its effect. He hadn't even thought to purchase any. Besides, Fenton had brought along four cases of hooch. The last thing he needed was a shot of that right now with his nerves jumping as badly as they were.
Angie put the sleeping bags back into the wagon. She had even rolled up Papa's bag. He had been up all night. She hadn't seen him like that since Mama's accident—all wired up and lost somewhere. She had approached him when she'd first woke up and found herself staring down the barrel of his rifle. It was like he didn't recognize her at first.
She had been afraid he'd shoot her. But he snapped out of it. "Don't you never sneak up behind me on tip toes again!" She wouldn't.
"Come on, girls. Let's get something to eat." The two just gawked at her. "Come on. Don't make me come get you!"
Odetta looked at her and chuckled. "Them kids is too young to understand everything like they were already in school or something. They can't even walk all that good yet."
Odetta set down the brown plastic bowl and spoon she'd been using to have her breakfast and stood up. "I'll get them over here and fed."
Angie wanted to cuss her out for interfering. After all, the twins were her kids. But she bit back the response. For the last week now, she'd been finding out the twins took a lot of work, and Tiffany hadn't been willing to help her none. In fact, Tiffany had razzed her about having kids and being pregnant again.
Damn! Why couldn't she have accepted Uncle Sergio and Aunt Janie's help, like John and Amy, instead of deciding that since Papa didn't care and Mama was so bad off, she was old enough to do what she wanted? At least she had listened well enough not to get knocked up while she was still in high school or until the birth control pills ran out.
She would have blamed Papa and Mama for ruining her life—she did quite often. But she had John and Amy to look at and see that they hadn't turned out like she had. She was the one who had become the town slut in capitol letters. Miss Party Girl. Mama hadn't had that accident just to ruin her life and Papa hadn't just given up on her, though it was easy to blame them for her own actions.
Angie watched as Odetta put up two more plastic bowls of mush and set out two more plastic spoons. "Don't touch!" The twins looked at her and at the bowls.
"Hot!" Odetta said.
"Ooo," the girls responded.
Feeling bitter, Angie sat down and poured a cup of hot water. She spooned some of the tea into one of the old tea balls Mama had used for her bead work decorations and dunked it into the cup. She hadn't seen one of the cheap metal things in at least twelve years. Like everything else of Mama's, it had just disappeared from the house.
When the mush had cooled enough for the girls to safely eat, Angie gave each of them a bowl. She ended up cleaning up a mess. She had forgotten the lesson she had been learning during the last week. The twins were really messy eaters and needed help.
It didn't help for Odetta to laugh at her when she got frustrated. Barbara had always done this for her. She usually wasn't even up this early.
Odetta Thorpe was happy. It had been a long time since she'd been on the road—too long. She had forgotten how good it felt to get up, make a quick breakfast, and breath open air.
It wasn't that she had traveled like this. She'd never before traveled in horse drawn wagons or camped out in burned out barns. But she hadn't always ridden the bus or caught a ride with a trucker, either. There had been times when she had moved on with just a backpack, her accordion, and what she could carry when the urge to move on had hit her.
It felt good being on the move again. And this was probably the last. She was forty-nine, going on eighty, judging from the stiffness and pain in her joints.
She enjoyed watching Julio's high-and- mighty daughter struggling to care for her kids. Julio had been right. Angie didn't know jack about taking care of kids. Odetta knew more, and she'd never had any kids of her own.
Fenton had asked her to take over for him on the reins off and on yesterday. She had a feeling that today her practice was going to be put to the test. Julio had been up all night. She had the feeling she would be driving his wagon. If that happened, Fenton would take the lead.
Julio had been up all night, guarding them while they slept. He would probably crash today. Actually, she liked the idea. She had spent nights on the road, her pocket gun in hand, trying to sleep in places she knew were less than safe when she'd been wandering.
One thing she had learned very well: never figure you're safe for the night. She'd been lucky not to be Jane Doe on a slab somewhere because of her own carelessness a couple of times. She had a few scars to prove it, too. Some things, like the tattoos, were courtesy of one- or two-year stints in prison for shop lifting; theft; and—once—knifing a guy who had tried to rape her. But that had been when she was young and stupid—younger than Angie even. She'd learned not to get caught at things like that later.
"Come on, girl," Odetta said. "Get them cleaned up. Your father's coming in to eat. You want him to see what a ditz you are?"
Odetta smiled when she was rewarded with a scathing glare. Nothing like starting the day right by ticking someone off, especially old Hot Pants' running mate. Those two girls had taken more than one decent man from her over the last two years. Any man who would chase those two wasn't getting a chance to come back to her afterward, either. She did have some standards. Odetta drank the last of her tea, pulled out some tobacco, and crammed it into her cheek.
It was going to be a longer day today than yesterday had been. A bit of cushioning on the wagon seat would have been welcome. She now wished she had been blessed with a bit more padding on her rear. Maybe Angie would loan her a bit. She had more than enough for both of them. Odetta laughed to herself as she spooned up a bowl of mush for Julio.
Fenton was glad when they were allowed to stop for the night again. This time, they had a dry barn in which to spend the night. Odetta had talked the villager in charge into letting them pay for the night's use. Fenton was glad for the dry place to stay. Between the cold drizzle and colder wind gusts that occasionally caught them during the day, it felt good to be under a roof, even if it smelled of livestock and wasn't heated.
He was also glad that he and Julio had let Odetta come along. She had picked up German palaver pretty well. He knew just enough German to run a stray Kraut out of the Club, if one was foolish enough to stick his head through the door. He now realized he needed to learn German if he planned to get along. And like the villagers who were letting them spend the night in his barn, Germans weren't all bad. They seemed like regular folk.
He would have been as suspicious as they had been, if a couple of wagons carrying armed people had rolled up in front of his trailer, women folk or no women folk.
Odetta pulled the thick blocky suitcase she'd loaded from the back of the wagon and opened it.
Fenton swore. She had a real, honest-to-god, polka-playing squeeze box—a fancy, mother-of-pearl-inlaid red beast. She broke it out, set the straps to her scrawny shoulders, and opened out the accordion.
Fenton didn't know what impressed him more: that Odetta had something that fancy or that she knew how to play it. He watched her fingers work the keys on one side and the buttons on the other as she opened and closed the bellows. Damn he knew that song—Daisy Polka. He reached inside his coat and broke out his harmonica. Time to join the fun. He hadn't played with anyone for years. Just played in the trailer to entertain himself.
Julio watched as Odetta and Fenton started to play their music. It had been ages since he'd been around anyone playing anything. He hadn't touched his git box since Juanita's accident. So long that he probably couldn't play it anymore. Besides, he'd never been into that polka garbage. He was almost tempted to dig out his old hollow box Fender, but decided against it. It would be really embarrassing to mess up Odetta and Fenton's music by adjusting the strings and then not remembering how to play.
He joined Angie and the twins by the lantern as they listened to Odetta and Fenton start to play another piece. He thought he'd known all about his traveling companions, but apparently not. He hadn't known Odetta spoke decent enough German to be understood, and he hadn't known either of them played any instruments.
Julio saw that Julie and Juanita were both curled up in a sleeping bag with their heads on Angie's lap. Both girls were sound asleep. He hadn't realized how much they looked like Angie. It was the first time he'd really paid much attention to them. It was even worse that he had pretty much ignored them for almost two years. They had just been Angie's bastards to him, even if they were his grandchildren.
Julio did something he hadn't done in a long time. He put an arm around Angie's shoulders and gave her a fatherly squeeze. Angie actually smiled at him. They hadn't been this close since . . . well, since back then. Julio smiled back.
Odetta started to sing, "Roll out the barrel; We'll have a barrel of fun . . ." She wasn't half bad.
Julio looked up to see one of the villagers, with his wife and kids, at the barn door, watching and listening. Probably the first time they'd heard real American music.
Julio looked back on the trip from Grantville to Magdeburg. They had finally made it. During the first couple of days, he thought they would kill each other on this trip. Angie with the twins; Odetta with her sarcasm and abrasive comments; and Fenton either predicting gloom and doom or making the Kraut comments he spouted out of habit more than actual belief; and finally, his own flashing back to a time he'd rather forget. All had been irritants and causes for discord in their little group.
Today, they were turning the horses and wagons over to Herr Knaust, who would see that Herr Bickrodt was notified of their arrival. Apparently, they had an arrangement. These horse and wagons actually belonged to Herr Knaust and were just being returned to him.
Julio smiled to himself. Well what do you know? A German U-Haul system, horse and wagon style.
Herr Knaust was going to allow them to store things in one of his buildings, for a price. They needed a place to store nearly everything.
The idea had been, sell everything, move to Magdeburg, buy a place near the naval base construction, and open a burger flipping place for the sailors and Marines.
Well, they were here. The problem now was finding a place they could afford. From what Odetta had found out from Herr Knaust, they certainly weren't buying anything with the money they had. But the old German was taken with Odetta. Why? Julio couldn't figure it out. The woman was gross with her anorexic, Ethiopian-famine-victim look. But, Herr Knaust had volunteered to help them find a place they could rent.
The old stable owner and blacksmith had recommended an inn where they could stay. Julio couldn't decide if Odetta was actually taken with the heavy set, gray bearded man or was just shining him on to get what she wanted. Odetta was much more complicated than she seemed.
Odetta had flirted with Georg Knaust for the last three days. The man reminded her of one of the old wrestlers. Not those tall, painted freaks who had been replacing the old wrestlers. He reminded her of men like Ivan Putski or Moondog Mane—big chested, massive armed, and a gut to go with it. His short, gray beard blended into his moustache.
Georg was a widower. He had lost his wife, children, and grandchildren when Magdeburg had been overrun by one of the German armies fighting in the area. Georg, himself, had nearly lost a leg and had been stabbed three times, according to what he'd told her. He had been left for dead with his family. Odetta could believe it. Georg certainly looked like a tough old buzzard, like a biker she had run with for awhile before the New York State Patrol arrested him for stealing cars.
The inn they were staying in was slightly rundown. But for having been rebuilt from a burned out shell, it looked pretty good.
Georg had found them a two-story building that had been an inn before it had been burned. After it had been rebuilt, it had been a warehouse for awhile.
She was supposed to meet Georg for dinner in a few hours. He had invited her to his house.
Angie studied the three sailors she was sitting with. One was cute. She had sashayed up to them and been invited to sit down. Papa would just blow a gasket if he saw her now. But he was watching the twins while she was supposed to be fetching their lunch.
That was how she met Josef, Michael, and Veit. Josef was the cute one. He was a petty officer, third class—a supply clerk. Michael and Veit worked with him, but both were only seaman. All three looked good in their uniforms, but Josef was the cutest.
"If you would like to meet me later," she said to Josef, "I'll be back this evening for awhile. Late that is, as soon as my friend gets back."
Odetta wouldn't stay long with the old coot she was having dinner with. Old Man Knaust looked like Santa on steroids, with a few scars thrown in for good measure. Even Odetta couldn't see anything in him. She was just buttering the dirty old man up to get his help.
"Yes, I would like to meet you again," Josef said. "Tonight, then. I'll be here."
Angie smiled. Magdeburg was going to be fun. She hurried to see if the food was ready to take back to her room. Now to convince Odetta she just had to get out and away from the twins for awhile.
Fenton had just come back from the dump Odetta's boyfriend had found for them. It would have to do. All they had to do now was go through the lawyer Knaust had recommended and get the papers drawn up. It was going to take most of their working capital to fix the place up, get the first two month's rent money paid, and stock it. They really hadn't expected rent and leases to be so high. But they were looking at property close to the navy base.
They could turn the upstairs into living quarters and cut down on expenses that way. The main floor was divided into three rooms. One was a large room, big enough for a bar and a dozen tables. There were two smaller rooms, one third the size of the main room. One small room was perfect to set up a stove, the barbeques, and the three ice chests they had brought. The other room could be used as a pantry and prep room.
Fenton figured they could set up the meat grinders and make hamburger in that room, as well as store homemade condiments from Grantville and things like the local mustard. But they had to get ketchup from Grantville if they were going to keep it.
The basement would be a good place to store kegs of beer and the cases of shine they'd brought with them. They only had one case of good stuff. It was more expensive than the stuff from the Five Hollows, but they might actually have a customer who wanted quality.
Julio had sent him to go over the place with a fine-toothed comb. He wasn't sure Julio wouldn't have been better at evaluating the place.
Fenton saw Angie coming from the eatery next to their inn. She sure looked happy. Maybe being away from Grantville was good for her, too. It sure was for him.
Julio looked at his notes. Things weren't going terribly wrong, but they weren't going like he'd figured a few weeks ago when he'd gotten this wild hair about moving away from Grantville and coming here to start over.
Well, he was starting over. Maybe he would look up an old friend who was supposed to be transferred here and John and Regina. He hadn't seen John for awhile and it was time to meet John's wife, Regina.
Fenton brought him the rough sketches of the warehouse, which was located a few blocks from the naval base. It would do. Julio was letting Fenton handle the actual lease and evaluate the building because, as much as Julio hated to admit it, he really didn't have Fenton's savvy when it came to business.
There was a reason he'd been a window washer, a dish washer, and a cook. He just didn't have a knack for much else. Oh, he'd tried a lot of other things, but he just didn't do very well at any of them. He was a jack of all trades and master of none.
They would establish the Greasy Spoon here, a few blocks away from the naval base; then make sure fliers were handed out at the gates. "Real American Burgers and Fries as well as Beer and Spirits." That should do the trick.
"No!" Julio shouted at Georg's friend, Valentin Scheister, the lawyer he and Fenton had hired. "We don't have the money to be hiring a bunch of expensive workmen."
Scheister smiled. "I know that with the building boom going on in Magdeburg, labor is getting more expensive. Still, I think I might be able to work out something for you. Just give me a chance and we'll see what can be done."
"Yeah, go ahead. But remember we don't have a fortune to spend." Julio figured he'd better remind Scheister of that.
"I will keep it in mind," Scheister replied. "Also, there is the little matter of payment for arranging the rental and permission to alter the building in question. Will you be paying that soon?"
Julio pulled the leather pouch hanging down inside his pants from his belt and started counting out coins. Things weren't going well. The vast fortune he and Fenton had amassed was not as vast as they'd thought. Things were much more expensive than they'd anticipated and new expenses were turning up every day.
Julio paid the lawyer and headed back to the Greasy Spoon. It looked like the only thing to do now was wait on Scheister and get everyone together for a little music. That was about the only thing turning out good so far. It was funny. Before Juanita's accident, they'd spend time playing music and just plain having fun. It felt good to have it to fall back on again.
Odetta was installing the second meat grinder on the counter. Julio had insisted that the counters be separated for food preparation. It was going to be rough going without refrigeration. They would have to bring in fresh meat daily or risk poisoning their customers. As it was, she was leery of having to have hired help just to bring in water to cook and clean up the place. They would be using vinegar to sanitize, not a very satisfactory solution to the problem.
Angie was upstairs watching Julie and Juanita. While Odetta could have used her help earlier, the twins would have had to come down her with her. That wouldn't have been a good idea. The two girls could get into anything the minute no one was watching them. It made her glad once again that she'd never had children.
Thinking of children reminded her, she was still playing Russian Roulette with Georg. She might be forty-nine, but her plumbing wasn't totally shut down yet. She had better watch herself or she just might pull an Angie.
At the present, Julio and Fenton were out visiting the leech, Scheister again. Actually, Valentin wasn't all that bad; but every time they turned around, something was coming up that required his help.
Odetta made sure that the wooden waste barrels were in position and that the lids fit securely. She looked around. Everything looked good for the opening next week. The opening had to go off on schedule because Julio said they were getting low on funds. If the funds were low enough for Julio to mention, things were really tight. They needed to get the Greasy Spoon opened and start making money. They had rent coming up in less than a month, as well as other overhead expenses.
Julio refused to touch what he called the "fall back" money—the money they would need to return to Grantville if everything fell apart here. But that wasn't about to happen. Even the oracle of disaster, Fenton, was sure they would succeed now.
Odetta wondered if Georg would leave the stables to one of his underlings and come to listen to them jam tonight. If he did, they could sneak over to his place for a bit of grab and tickle. Maybe a bit more than that.
The guy was really growing on her.
Angie looked at her figure. It required a hard look to see the slight bulge that was beginning to develop. She adjusted the ankle length dress and was nearly ready to go to work. Veit had promised to bring a bunch of his friend's from the base tonight. She couldn't wait to see him.
Her raven black hair was pulled back into a long ponytail and tied with green ribbon. She applied her lipstick sparingly since she didn't know if she'd ever get another. She applied blue eye shadow and then the eyeliner. She was ready.
The girl they had hired to watch the twins while she worked was busy playing with Julie and Juanita. Angie had already arranged for her to spend the night so that she could have some time with Veit.
It was time to go downstairs. They had hired two extra serving girls and she was in charge. This was the first time Papa was really trusting her with anything important. For once, she was going to make sure she didn't disappoint him.
She moved away from the makeshift vanity and headed for the door.
Fenton was behind a bar again. This time, though, he had an assistant. The barrels of beer were set up, the tankards were all stacked neatly, and the metal pitchers were ready to go. The only thing they needed now was customers.
Angie came down the stairs and walked over and talked to the two other waitresses. Julio was in the back with Odetta and the new cook.
Fenton watched as Angie lifted the bar locking the entrance door and opened it. The first customers through the door were sailors. Fenton recognized the one who grabbed Angie and put a lip lock on her. It was the same one she had been seeing for the last month. Maybe the girl was going to finally settle down. Better the stupid sailor than him, though. Tigers don't change their stripes and he was sure Angie wouldn't.
More customers started filing in. It looked like they might have a success, not that he hadn't known they would all along.
As the evening wore on, things were going pretty well until some Marines entered. From that point on, things deteriorated rapidly. It wasn't the Marines who caused the problems. The trouble was started by some sailors who had already had a few too many.
Fenton grabbed his baseball bat from under the bar and waded into the fray. He didn't even get a chance to bust heads. Some tough looking characters moved in and the fight was over.
Fenton listened while one of the tough guys said, "No trouble or the Military Police will be in here and put the place off limits." Fenton hadn't thought of that possibility. Off Limits? Something like that would ruin them for sure.
"Thanks."
"Think nothing of it," the man said. "Besides, I think I'm gonna like this place. I'll come around when I'm not busy."
Fenton returned to the bar. His assistant had been running his butt off, trying to keep the beer flowing. There had even been a few orders for the Revenoo-ers Rue he'd brought from Grantville.
Serving liquor had been another problem handled by Scheister. The man actually had an interest in the Greasy Spoon now in lieu of fees. It gave them a mouthpiece on call, but it had also cost them a twenty percent interest. Scheister was really a shyster.
All night long, Julio had been trying to get Christian Grosch to work the skillets of fries. The man refused to do it. He would work the meat grinders, even clean them. Grosch would fry hamburgers or prepare sausages, anything to do with meat; but he refused to touch a vegetable one!
"I'm a journeyman butcher," Grosch complained. "It's bad enough I must prepare the meat as well as do my proper job. I'll not peel your potatoes, cut them up, or prepare them."
In a whining voice he added, "If only my guild master hadn't recommended me for this job."
Julio wanted to strangle the young man. It had cost him a pretty penny to get the Butchers' Guild off his back. He'd been saddled with hiring a journeyman as part of the deal Valentin had brokered.
He had learned more about operating a business than he had ever thought existed. And he was also sure there were things he'd missed. But he was confident that nothing could go wrong.
"See?" Odetta waved the ledger in front of Julio, Fenton, and Angie. "See what I've been trying to tell you all morning. Yes, The Greasy Spoon is making money! But, we're spending money not just for the supplies of which we are going through a lot, but look!" She pointed to a line in the ledger. "Fenton has made personal withdrawals three times, Angie twice, and Julio once. That doesn't count the cash withdrawal I made. We're in the red after our employees salaries, supplies, and Scheister's twenty percent of the gross." Odetta glared at the others. "And whose great idea was it to give Scheister a twenty percent interest and pay him from gross profits?"
She watched as Julio swallowed.
"Aha! I thought so. At this rate, we'll end up in debtors' prison—if Magdeburg has one."
The first meeting they'd had since the Greasy Spoon had opened wasn't going to be a good one. Odetta knew if something didn't turn around soon, they would be in the shit neck deep. The Greasy Spoon had customers; but as a business it was already sinking.
"I have an idea," Fenton began. Odetta picked up the cup of Willie Ray's finest next to her and took a drink.
Julio finally knew they were beaten. Two weeks ago, they had made a deal with Georg Knaust. He provided the money to pay the rent for the next two months and salaries for the employees while things got straightened out.
Georg had taken a thirty percent interest in the Greasy Spoon.
Things had started to look good until now. They received a tax notice today that nearly brought on heart attacks. It was time to talk to Scheister again.
But first Julio would have to call everyone together. Their business venture wasn't going to work. It wasn't because everyone hadn't been doing their part, and then some. They'd all worked hard. But they just weren't business people.
The Greasy Spoon was popular, it pulled in money, but they just couldn't seem to make it work. The employees were trained. After he had threatened to march Grosch back to the guild request a replacement, even that jerk had straightened out and became a model employee in the kitchen.
Angie was showing pride in herself and staying with the same guy, as far as he could tell—a vast improvement. She had even begun dressing more conservatively. She wasn't a walking billboard for 'free love' any more. He was proud of her, as proud as was possible at this time.
But he could see the writing on the wall. They were not going to succeed.
Six people were crammed into the small room Valentin Scheister used for his office.
"I've drawn up the paper work," Valentin said. "All it needs is my signature, Herr Knaust's signature, Herr Sanabria's, and Herr Mase's signature to make it legal."
Julio studied the document before he picked the quill up from the desktop. He dipped it into the ink and awkwardly scrawled his name on the bottom of the document.
Fenton muttered under his breath before taking the quill from his hand and signing.
Georg and Valentin had agreed to take over the Greasy Spoon; however, there were a few stipulations they'd all had to agree on. First, the name was to be changed to the American Greasy Spoon, even though it was owned and operated by down-timers. Second, the up-timers all stayed on for awhile longer. That had made Odetta and Angie happy.
Their time in Magdeburg had been a lesson for them. While they might not be the new owners of the Burger King or McDonald's of the USE, they did function well as a team. They just didn't do it in the restaurant/tavern industry. They didn't have great heads for business.
One thing they were extremely good at was playing music. They had gained a lot of confidence over the past few months. They no longer worried about what they were going to do.
They had a new plan. They were going to run the American Greasy Spoon for Valentine and Georg. They would also provide entertainment. They would form a band called Greener Pastures. One day they would leave Magdeburg. If they could please the customers at the Spoon, they stood a good chance wherever they went.
Julio watched Odetta move toward Georg as the big German took the quill to add his signature. Maybe it would be better if they stayed around Magdeburg for awhile. They might even learn how the German guilds worked.
He watched as the lawyer added his signature. The deal was done.
"That seals the contract." Valentin chuckled as he returned the quill to the table. "I'm glad you chose to stay. It will add an American touch to the American Greasy Spoon."
Julio momentarily felt like the main attraction at a zoo. He smiled to himself. He had better get used to being watched if he planned to play his gitbox on stage. They wouldn't be returning to Grantville any time soon. Staying would give Odetta and Angie a chance to make decisions about their romantic conquests. Now they didn't have to say good bye to friends and, in some cases, loved ones.
It was time for them to try their hand at something new. This time, he didn't just think they would succeed; this time he knew they would.