The Book Publisher's Son

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 3

The main dining room seated some twenty people and all places were taken. The dinner was for the few relatives left and my parent's close friends. Most of them knew me, but I had been away for ten years and had a problem remembering their names.

I sat between my two sisters. Liz, though, being in command of the evening, was busy fussing around with the staff. So I concentrated on Meg. All told, we hadn't seen much of each another in the intervening years.

We conversed in general terms, she asking about my adventures in South Africa which seemed to fascinate her and me catching up on her history since I'd been away.

After finishing school, she joined the firm and learnt the business from the ground up, before doing a stint at a leading publisher in Frankfurt and spending a few months in London and New York to learn the international side of book publishing. At twenty-three, she took over as editor-in-chief, responsible for the firm's editorial, imprint and translations departments.

We finished up discussing the pros and cons of opening a sales outlet in Cape Town. But I soon noticed that her questions went beyond general interest and were aimed at collecting information about me. I found her interrogation amusing.

She had a slim, girlish figure which made her look younger than her twenty-six years. There was an air of fragility about her which I realised was misleading. Like Mother and Liz, she was her own woman. It ran in their DNA.

After the meal ended, some of the guests left, other formed little groups as they drank brandy or whisky. Liz had meanwhile joined us, and I moved around with her for a while, making polite conversation. The people there viewed me with curiosity and interest. The one or the other politely asked about South Africa without really listening to my reply. For my part, I hid behind the usual party small talk.

Mother and Lukas hadn't put in an appearance at all. More than curious, I mentioned it to Liz. I had wanted to speak to her about the reading of the will the next day, but she and the men had gone elsewhere for a quick supper.

I ate breakfast the next morning in my old room. As I'd half expected, someone had removed the stuff I'd accumulated as a boy. Eager to know, I went through the cupboards. Just bed linen and such. Or empty. Then I tried the closet, a key protruding from the lock. There, surprisingly, I found most of my books, old records and tapes. And memorabilia I'd collected during my youth.

Everything was neatly stowed in cardboard boxes and stacked at the back. I opened one at random and discovered a set of photos of top tennis players of the time which once adorned one of the walls of my bedroom. All had been carefully packed as if waiting for me to return and collect them. I thought instinctively of Liz. This was her work. A warm gesture in this cold house.

The breakfast trolley arrived while I was in the bathroom. I just nibbled on a piece of toast and sipped a cup of coffee as I dressed in casual clothes. I had no real appetite. The will would show if Father had changed his mind. In a way, I hoped he had. I'd been with the family for almost twenty-four hours and been made to feel like an unwelcome stranger.

Cup in hand, I sat down at the open French window and looked out over the parkland belonging to the family estate. All of a sudden, a woman rode into my field of vision. She held her fine thoroughbred steed at a steady gallop as she headed back towards the horse boxes at the rear of the main house.

I recognised Meg in a heavy sweater and riding breeches, her long chestnut hair flowing in the wind. Seeing her sitting perfectly erect but relaxed in the saddle, I realised that she had grown into a very beautiful, young woman.

She reduced speed to a trot as she turned into the stables yard. All at once, she glanced up as she passed by and must have seen me sitting there. She waved and I nodded back. Then she was gone. I had learnt last night that she competed in local events and could well believe it.

I checked the time. Ten-thirty. The family attorney was due at eleven. I donned a jacket over my tennis shirt and jeans and went for a stroll in the gardens, breathing in the cool, fresh air, but curbing the nervous tinge which had returned.

As I turned back to the front entrance a BMW limousine drew up on the forecourt. Two grey-haired men wearing dark suits and carrying briefcases got out. The attorneys, I assumed. One I recognised from the previous evening – Georg Schwartz, my father's long-time, personal lawyer.

I walked across to say hello.

"Ah, good morning, Thomas," he greeted and introduced me to his colleague, a Dr Linden. "Thomas used to play tennis in the club's first team," he said. "Top seed."

"I can imagine," the other said politely, “he's got the sportsman's figure for it."

They made their way to the main entrance, me following.

Steiner, Dad's butler, met us and led them to the library. "Can I offer you some refreshment, gentlemen?" he said in his formal voice.

They waved away the suggestion. I did the same. Though a cognac would have better settled the jitters I felt!

At that moment my mother came in, wearing a double-strand, natural pearl necklace over a black cashmere sweater and white drain-pipe jeans. She'd always had a slim figure and kept herself in shape. Although she was over seventy, she looked many years younger.

"Ah, Georg," nice to see you again, she said to the lawyer. "And Doktor Linden. Good day to you." They shook hands, the two men offering their condolences. "You've met Tom, I see. The other family is on their way," she said and sat down, waving an arm. "Anywhere you like."

Liz brought her two charges from yesterday with her. They still dressed formally as the day before. She introduced them as Herr and Frau Ronald Prittmann, the last surviving members of Johannes's immediate relatives.

She wore loose-fitting jeans and a casual sweater, her favourite leisure garments. For business, she had a collection of designer-made outfits. I expected she still had, her tastes and convictions not having changed despite the years.

Lukas followed a few minutes later, nodding a general good morning as he took a club chair close to Mother. His jeans, a T-shirt and blue sneakers looked brand new. He had father's dark hair and eyes, and a deep tan. He had put on weight, I noticed, and was losing his hair, both of which made him look older than his years.

I had been standing. Now, I lowered myself into an easy chair, legs stretched out in front of me, hopefully looking more nonchalant than I felt.

"Where the devil is Meg?" Mother said, drumming her fingers on her thigh.

Just then, she strode in, offering her own bright and breezy good mornings to the room in general and sat next to Lukas, giving him a little supportive smile. She still wore her riding outfit.

Seeing my siblings so closely together I suddenly realised how different we were from one another. It was difficult to imagine we had the same parents.

"Right, let's get started," Mother ordered.

The two attorneys had already opened their briefcases resting in their laps and taken out identically slim folders. From where I sat, I noticed that Georg's case contained more copies. I asked for one.

“He'll distribute them afterwards,” Mother snapped.

Schwartz kicked off with a eulogy on Johannes's life and achievements and on their close relationship over the years. Mother soon began to lose patience. Why was she so uptight, I asked myself. She must know the contents of the will even if the others didn't, as Liz had hinted. But she made a sort of nervous impression. Definitely a restive one. Like yesterday at the funeral.

"Yes, Georg, we know all that,” she barked, “and we are grateful to you. Now I think we can get down to the matter at hand. Johannes's last will and testament."

"Certainly, my dear. Er well, I'd like my colleague Doctor Linden here to say a few words on the legal side of-"

Mother cut him off. "Thank you, gentlemen, but first the will, then you can address any issues of law which might arise, all right?"

"Yes, of course." Schwartz opened his copy of the file, Dr Linden following suit. There was a number of pages. Father had clearly worked on it with his attorneys for some time. Long before death threatened. As he read, I watched my mother's reaction. There was none. Only her eyes glazed in sadness.

The will, I learnt, consisted of three parts. The first the longest. It sets out Johannes's wishes for the firm, for its future. The gist: the business was to remain a family undertaking, to give a livelihood for the family members and their offspring in the years and decades to come.

"Any questions on this part?" Schwartz asked.

"Get on with it," my brother growled. "What's in the rest?"

"Be patient, Lukas," Mother shot at him.

"I'm coming to it," Schwartz said. "Well, now to Part Two. It covers a series of gifts, legacies and bequests. He included rules governing the organisation of the Foundation which he set up to secure pensions and so forth." He glanced across at Johannes's two surviving relatives. "You are provided for separately. That arrangement will continue."

They nodded in unison, relieved, I thought.

Schwartz went on reading. "The villa and estate are to be converted into a private holding company and integrated into the Foundation.” He added, “The legal documents are still being processed by the authorities."

He paused, glancing around for questions. There were none.

"Finally," Schwartz said, "we now come to the matters of succession and management."

I sensed the tension in the room increase. Especially from where Lukas sat. His eyes were wide with expectancy, tense as if he couldn't wait to hear of his appointment.

"At the time of drawing up the will," the attorney went on, "Johannes knew of the true financial situation of the business. Of the problems it faced, and of new dark clouds developing on the horizon in the book publishing world. Thus, to avoid any misunderstanding, he laid down that the matter of family continuity in his will."

I kept my eyes on Lukas, saw him beaming with pride. Meg, at his side, nudging him playfully with her elbow. Liz sat poker-faced. Mother's expression appeared agitated. Schwartz's voice became hesitant as he read as if the duty were painful.

The he read out the passage in the document.

The announcement hit Lukas and Meg like a bomb, leaving them speechless. Liz had a smile at her lips. Mother's eyes were downcast. Meg eyed me, looking shocked.

Lukas broke the silence first. Jumping to his feet, shouting, yelling at the two lawyers, "It's all stuff and nonsense. My father would never have made a will like that. There is some mistake."

Dr Linden, now taking centre stage, confirmed that the will was genuine and duly witnessed by Schwartz and himself. "There are no grounds to dispute the validity of the document," he went on in a firm voice. "It has been registered with probate and verified as his last will and testament."

Lukas glared at Mother, his eyes narrowing while suppressing a rising anger, his face flushed. "How the hell could you?" he spat at her. "How the bloody hell could you do this to me?"

He jumped up and left the room with angry strides.

Meg stared at me, a stunned expression on her face as if I were responsible.

Liz smiled as if to herself.

Mother remained sitting, staring into nothingness.