“There is a new one called a Thaler-this is also very good, though you may not see so many of them. They are worth twenty-four Groschen.”
“So, Thalers are even better,” observed Mina. She plucked the silver guldiner from between Englebert’s thumb and forefinger.
The departing woman reappeared with another rolled-up rug under her arm. “How much?” she asked as she passed. To Mina’s puzzled look, she jerked her head towards the shop door and said, “Him inside-how much did he demand?”
“Sixty Guldiners,” replied Etzel.
“The greedy miser,” scoffed the woman, handing up the rug to her husband in the wagon. “We only paid him thirty for the entire year.”
“How long were you-” She hesitated, amending her thought. “How long did you rent from him?”
“We were here four years,” replied the woman, “and never a good day in all that time. May the Devil take him and his shop. I never want to see either of them again.”
“Do not take on so, Ivanka,” chided the man. “It is hard to lose a business.”
“Where will you go now?” asked Etzel.
“We are going to Presburg,” replied the man. “My wife has a sister there, and we will get a new shop.”
“What kind of shop did you have?” Mina wondered.
“It was a candle shop,” answered the man. “I make candles.”
“The best in the city,” put in his wife proudly. “No more. Let them live in the darkness.” She spat in the doorway for emphasis.
“She’s very angry,” explained the man.
Wilhelmina thanked the couple for their help and went back into the shop. “Fifty Guldiners is more than you will get from anyone else,” she announced. “We want it for a year.”
The man in the green hat laid aside his book and stood. “Am I not to be rid of you?”
“No,” said Mina, “not until I get a reasonable answer.”
“Sixty Guldiners is reasonable,” replied the landlord.
“Not when the current occupants are paying only thirty a year.”
“Times change.”
“I agree,” replied Mina. “That is why we are offering fifty.”
The man in the black coat snapped shut his tiny book. “Very well. Fifty, then. It is done.”
Englebert, standing in the doorway, opened his mouth to object.
“Not so fast,” said Wilhelmina. “This room will need to be painted-and the outside as well.”
The landlord frowned. His eyes narrowed. “A woman?” he wondered aloud. “And you talk to me like this?”
“Fifty Guldiners,” Wilhelmina reminded him.
“Very well, anything else?”
“Yes,” she said, “there is one other thing. We will need an oven.”
“An oven…” He did not seem to appreciate the nature of the request.
“This is to be a bakery,” she told him. “We need an oven.”
“A large one,” put in Englebert hopefully, “with four shelves.”
The black-coated landlord pulled on his beard in a way that suggested he thought he might be talking to crazy people, but could not be sure. “No,” he said at last. “It is too much.”
“Fine,” replied Mina. “Come, Etzel, I saw a better shop closer to the square. It is empty, and I am sure the landlord would be happy for our business.” Taking Englebert by the arm, she started through the door.
“Wait,” called the landlord.
She turned back, smiling.
“If I do this, I will need a full year’s payment in hand.” He tapped his open palm.
“We have the money,” Wilhelmina assured him before thinking to ask Englebert if that was, in fact, true. “Assuming the rooms upstairs are suitable for living, of course. We will need furniture-beds, tables, chairs. Simple things.”
“You will find all you need upstairs.” The landlord waved at the staircase at the back of the shop.
A quick look around the four rooms on the second floor assured Mina that this was indeed the case. There were beds in two rooms, and a table with four chairs in another, and a spare room with two chairs more and a large chest.
“It is acceptable,” said Mina upon returning to the ground floor. “Two new rugs would make it more acceptable.”
“And the money?” asked the landlord.
Wilhelmina looked to Englebert, who brought out his leather pouch. He turned his back and made counting noises, then faced them once more, extending his hand to the landlord, who reached out to receive his pay.
“Not so fast,” said Mina, intercepting the pouch in midair. “We will pay you half now, and half when we have signed the papers.”
“Papers?” wondered the landlord. “What are these papers? I know nothing of papers.”
“The legal papers,” she said. “The lease, or whatever you call it. I want papers to say that we have paid for a year and that there will be an oven and new paint-all that we have agreed upon. I want it in writing.”
“My word is my bond.” The landlord sniffed. “Ask anyone, they will tell you. Jakub Arnostovi is honest. I have never offered legal papers to anyone before.”
“Times change,” replied Wilhelmina sweetly.
CHAPTER 9
In Which Fragile Hopes Are Cruelly Dashed
You are a wonder, Wilhelmina,” breathed Etzel. Awed by her display of business acumen and tough-minded negotiating prowess, the big, gentle man could hardly speak. “However did you do that?”
“Do what?” she asked, genuinely puzzled by his amazement.
“The way you bent Herr Arnostovi to your will. I have never seen the like. He is a landlord, after all.”
“Oh, that,” replied Mina. “I live in London, remember? I’ve been dealing with landlords most of my life.”
“I would never have dared to speak to him like that. It was”-he sighed with admiration-“wunderbar.”
“That was nothing,” she said, smiling as she basked in his praise. “You should see me rip into a Clapton letting agent.”
“You have a good head for business, Mina,” he told her. “We shall do very well together, I think.”
“I hope so, Etzel.”
“Now then!” He rubbed his chubby hands together. “You stay here and wait for Herr Arnostovi’s return. I will go get the wagon, and then we can begin moving in.”
He hurried off down the street towards the livery stables, and Wilhelmina stood for a moment outside the shop, examining the exterior and trying to decide what colour to paint it. White, of course, was always good for a bakery; it made a place look clean and wholesome, like bread. And the deep-shadowed street could certainly use brightening up.
But, no, dark blue was better-a royal blue, with gold trim. That would look posh and professional. She cast another glance up and down the street. No… white would stand out better, and that was what they needed more than anything just now. A good solid white enamel, and a sign-judging from the street view, all the best shops had signs-with a picture of a freshly baked loaf of bread.
Now, what to call it? Probably Etzel would have some ideas about that.
“It is Stifflebeam and Sons Bakery,” he said when she asked him what his father’s shop was called. “It is a good name, I think.”
“Yes,” agreed Mina, doubtfully. “But people here don’t know you or your father. We need a new name- something that will be easy for people to remember.” She thought for a moment. “Do you have a specialty?”
