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The Viennese Waltz(52)

By:Paula Goodlett


Carla was trying very hard not to cry. None of this had been her idea, but she was going to be tarred with the same brush as her parents. It wasn’t fair.

“Well, I’ll talk to Herr Doctor Faust and see about getting your school copies of the course outlines.”

Carla choked a laugh. “Your tutor is Dr. Faust? Has he sold his soul yet?”

“No, but he does get teased about his name a lot,” Hayley said repressively. “The stories are over a hundred years old, even in this time. And his taking up natural philosophy rather than theology fit too well with the legends.”

“Sorry,” Carla said.

“It’s okay. He’s a nice guy, and I think he’s sensitive about it, even though he tries to laugh it off. So I thought I should warn you.” Hayley changed the subject. “I can write back to Grantville. Are there any messages you want me to send?”

“Yes, I had some friends who came to the school from Rudolstadt. Not that I have any idea what I’m going to say.”

Carla looked at her watch. It was a down-time-made pocket watch. Those could be had in Grantville and Magdeburg now. “Oh, shoot. The girls from school are watching the emperor. Do you know how long he’s going to be driving around the track?”

“Not long. He generally goes for about ten minutes at a stretch. You should probably get back to them.”

“About that, Hayley. Some of them have made some comments about you being just the daughter of a mechanic. Which they figure is about the same as a groom in the imperial stables. Should I tell them you’re part of the Barbie Consortium and could buy their parents out of pocket change? I don’t know if you’ve been keeping quiet about it on purpose or if they were just being snooty.”

“Well, they are just being snooty.” Hayley smiled. “What’s wrong with a groom, after all? But, no. Don’t tell them, please. I really don’t want them pressuring me, or their parents pressuring my family, about money.”

“I won’t say a thing.” Carla assured her, thinking, Well, that at least gives me an in.

“Thanks,” Hayley said. “And I’ll be thinking about what you can do to earn a bit of extra cash.”

* * *

Carla ended up too busy to do much in the way of starting businesses because the English Ladies put her to work teaching algebra to the young ladies of good family. Not on the basis of her owing it to them or anything. Just because she had had algebra and knew more about it than anyone else. About half Carla’s school day was spent as the teacher of this or that up-time discipline, often as not with two or three of the English Ladies as students. It put an uncomfortable distance between her and her fellow students, but the English Ladies didn’t seem to care.





CHAPTER 14

Barbies’ Vienna Branch

January and early February 1635

Sanderlin House, Race Track City

“Frau Sanderlin, may I give credit to Ursula Kline?” Magdalena Hough asked timidly. “She is a good woman and if she can get some of the bottles for her herbs, she will be better able to sell them.”

Gayleen Sanderlin was at a loss. “Well, I guess so. I mean, it’s your shop. What do the other ladies who work there say?”

Magdalena hesitated. “Well, some agree. Others think we don’t have the money to give credit.”

Fortney House, Race Track City

“Frau Fortney, may I give credit to Renate Treffen?” asked Peter Zingler. The bootmaker was literally hat in hand, and Dana Fortney didn’t have a clue what to say. She knew who would, but her daughter was in the shop working with Sonny on the boiler for the steam car they were trying to build. And Brandon, who might know what to do, was out at his experimental farm, mulching God-knew-what with chicken poop to make compost.

“Let me think about it, Herr Zingler. Do you have to have an answer right now?”

240Z Shop, Race Track City

“Herr Sanderlin, can you get me credit at the Up-time Diner? Things have been tight and . . .”

Ron Sanderlin looked over at Pete Greisser. He was a good guy, if not the brightest Ron had ever met. Hard worker and willing, but not great with money.

“Just till next payday. Maria, my sister, is in from the country and, well, money is tight and . . .”

Again Pete trailed off and this time Ron had to fight back a curse. The pay was late again. He knew that the empire was having financial troubles but, damn it, when you hire people you’re supposed to pay them.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Pete that of course he could have credit at the Up-time Diner, but then he remembered he didn’t own the diner. “I’ll see what I can do, Pete.”