Eric Flint - Grantville Gazette. Volume 21

"Ursula! Oh, I'm so sorry I'm late. Sorry, sorry, sorry. I got delayed at dinner with… umm… my mother. Aaand… she wanted to talk… about her new boyfriend."

Margit. Her co-worker. She finally arrived. About a half hour late, as usual. Ursula sighed. Margit always had excuses, and some of them were very entertaining. But tonight, Ursula was not in the mood. "I will finish this, you can start on the back hallway."

"Don't you want to hear about my mother's new boyfriend?"

"Not especially, Margit. And you used that excuse last month."

"Oh."

"Back hallway, Margit?"

"Okay. Let me get my stuff from downstairs. Back in a minute." She turned and half-skipped down the hall, humming a little tune. Ursula smiled just a little as she watched her disappear around the corner.

After finishing the public spaces and the offices on the first floor, they started up the stairs to the second, where more offices and desks were packed into rooms. Margit leaned over to Ursula. "Are you going out after work tonight, Ursula? You never go, and we have so much fun." Margit turned and bounced mischievously in her stride.

Ursula looked at her and shook her head. "I need to be home and to sleep so I can help my mother with the sewing as soon as it gets light."

Margit frowned. "Ursula, when are you going to have some fun in your life? How do expect to meet anyone if all you do is work here in the afternoon, go home and sleep, then sew with your mother from first light until you come to work again? You are what? Twenty-one? Twenty-two?"

"I'm very plain, Margit. Who would ever want me? My father is a casket maker. He has no social rank."

Margit stopped on the stairs and blocked Ursula's path. "How many times have I told you it doesn't matter here? It must be a thousand times by now." She changed the tone of her voice, deepening it with authority. "Ursula, it doesn't matter here." She changed back to her impish grin. "There. One thousand and one."

Ursula paused. "Twenty-five. Almost twenty-six."

"What?"

"I will be twenty-six in two months."

Margit's hand went to her mouth. "I'm so sorry, Ursula. I had no idea you were ahhh-were that-ummm…" Margit stuttered some more, and after a pause she half-heartedly added, "You look remarkably young for your age…" Margit turned red behind her grimace.

Ursula looked at her with a frown. Margit was almost a full head shorter than she, and here on the stairs they were eye to eye. Margit always had several boyfriends, she was always talking about them. Ursula sighed.

"There was a boy in Magdeburg, before the war. But my father said he was not worthy. Since then there has been no real time or stability-we moved so many times to stay ahead of the wars."

"Wait just a second, Ursula. You've been here for two years. And you've been working this awful schedule that prevents you from meeting anyone. You've had plenty of time to meet someone." She turned coyly. "Or even several some ones." She finished with a girlish giggle.

Ursula had little patience with girlish giggles. "Life is what it is, and life is what it shall be. And that's all there is to it. No more. No less. That's all life is." She shrugged and began to climb the stairs.

She trotted past Ursula and once again blocked her path. "That's your father talking. The famous Eeyore Volz. The man with the darkest disposition in town."

"He's a very practical man, Margit. He's provided for us even in the worst of times, since before Magdeburg. You know he got my mother and me out of the city before the siege. He sold everything, cancelled his lease, and moved away. He had the foresight to act before…"

Margit grew quiet. "I had a cousin and an uncle there."

"My father is very smart, Margit. We were in three different cities and towns before we moved to Magdeburg. In each one of them, we moved out before something terrible happened. Papa was able to figure it out, before it happened. We think he is very smart, and that has kept us alive and together as a family."

"But he never smiles. I have never once seen him smile. People stay away from him."

"People don't talk to Papa very often. Mr. Blackwell, who owns the funeral home where Papa works, said most people won't talk to you much when they find out what you do. I'm sure that's why. And we never really had many friends, no matter where we lived. Papa said that suits him just fine, too."

Margit put her hands on her hips and looked Ursula in the eyes. Her short red hair and freckles made her look far younger than she really was. "What am I going to do with you, Ursula Volz?"

"There is nothing you need to do. Things are just fine the way they are."

Margit turned and began bouncing up the stairs. "Maybe. Maybe not." She turned and looked back at Ursula. "But I am not going to let you be an old maid without getting you to have some fun." She skipped off around the corner.

Ursula stood on the stairs for a moment before heading up after Margit. Together they found the spill in the hallway, and then, as usual, Ursula continued to the third floor of the mansion, where they told her the "ballroom" used to be.

Rolf Burger, the night guard was at his post. He had a tiny desk and chair with a logbook where people signed in and out. His post at the top of the stairs put him between a heavy door and the hallway. Ursula was never really sure why they had the extra guard up here. The Department of Economic Affairs had something to do with money, she supposed from the name. Although she never saw any money there. As he saw her coming around the corner, he was already taking the keys off of his belt.

"So how is my fine, beautiful Ursula Volz this evening?" Rolf Burger was pushing sixty-five, had no teeth, and a twinkle in his eye. A mixer. That's what Ursula's mother had said when she described him. A mixer. Mostly harmless.

"I am fine, Herr Burger"

"What's a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?"

"Working at her job, Herr Burger." She signed in on his log book. As he let her in, purposely he brushed against her as he backed the door open. He grinned a toothless smile at her as she stepped back. She cast her eyes at the floor and went into the hallway. There was a long hall with a half-dozen doors on both sides. She sat about her tasks as quickly and efficiently as possible, methodically working through one office at a time. Trash, feather dust, sweep, repeat. She settled into a calm rhythm, so when she opened one of the doors to what she thought was an empty office, she was startled to see a huskily built man hunched in front of one of the computers. The screen cast the only light in the office.

"Oh. Excuse me. I didn't know you were here. I can come back later-"

"No. That's quite all right. I don't think we've met before. What's your name?" He stood.

Ursula was still surprised by the up-timer forwardness. The man was very friendly; all up-timers seemed to be. At least the ones she had met. She quickly looked at his hand to see if he had one of the up-time marriage bands. She was relieved when she saw he did. When her eyes went back to his face, they were observing her carefully. She immediately felt the blush, and looked at the floor. "Ursula Volz, sir"

"My name is Grady. Dennis Grady. Nice to meet you, Ursula. I'm sorry I startled you. I was just finishing up some work. You can just skip my office for tonight."

"Yes, sir." She backed out of the room and closed the door. In a few more minutes she had completed the floor, and she headed for the guard station. She opened the door to find Rolf sipping a hot beverage, with an up-time device steaming in the background. "Cup of coffee?"

Ursula's eyebrows raised. "Where in the world did you get that thing?"

"One of the ladies in the kitchen gave it to me. She said it was broken, so I took it to the tinker. You know we have one here now? He fixed it. The original glass is broken, so I use this ceramic mug. It only makes two cups at a time. This is the first night I have brought it to work."