Grantville Gazette 37

'And,' Lyndon repeated the important point, 'it really will pay well.'

Estil hesitated, 'I'd rather not.'

'Estil, think about it. It's a good paying gig, doing something I know you enjoy doing. Besides, Ken says you're free so you've got the time off work. Why not do it?'

'Are you sure Ken said it was okay?'

'Yes.'

'I really don't want to leave town.' Estil hesitated again.

'Hey, it's just to Magdeburg and just for a little bit. One party. How long could that take? And it pays well.'

Estil hesitated a third time. 'Well, I could use the money.'

Lyndon jumped on it. 'Good! Then it's settled. I'll pick you up in the morning at eight to get you to the train station on time.'

****

The ever-louder, early-morning rapping on the door of the cramped little ancient camper he rented from Ken was followed by a long, slow train ride to Magdeburg to report to Herr von Something-or-other.

By and by, Estil read the words Community Relations on the door. Inside he was greeted with one word by the mandatory 'up-and-coming bright young man' behind the desk. 'Yes?' The tone unmistakably said, 'Why are you bothering me? You are in the wrong place. Go away.'

'Shit,' Estil said under his breath. He really did not want to deal with a bright young man, especially one with attitude. 'My name is Estil Congden. I'm looking for-'

The bright young man's demeanor changed like an avalanche. He was out of his seat, with a handshake ready on his right side, and a suitcase grab ready on his left. 'Mr. Congden, do please come in. My name is Victor Hermann. Here, let me take that. Would you like to sit down? Can I get you a cup of coffee? Or would you prefer a nip of brandy to ward off the cold? Forgive me for not recognizing you. You are not quite-' He glanced at Estil's threadbare jeans and worn field jacket. '-what I was expecting.'

'Yeah, you were expecting a tuxedo. It's in the suitcase.' Before Estil dropped out of high school rather than repeat his senior year due to the suspension arising from the senior prank, the tuxedo was already purchased. His mother had asked him what he would like as a graduation present. He announced he wanted to go to the prom in a tuxedo he owned. He figured he would need one to attend publishing banquets and award ceremonies someday, so he might as well own one. He wore it to work the bar at weddings over the years. He was a bit vain about it still fitting. 'It doesn't travel well, so it gets carried instead of worn.'

'Oh, certainly, of course,' Victor agreed.

The bright young man wanted something. Estil saw no reason to be diplomatic about it, and it certainly seemed that this particular kid was pretty good with English and hillbillies, so he said, 'Okay, kid. What do you want?'

'Well, Count von Leiningen-Westerburg has requested an expert on the twentieth-century custom of a cocktail party. His new wife wants to hold one and it seems the count is willing to give her anything she wants.'

'That is all very interesting, but it ain't what I meant. Cut the bullshit. What do you want? Not your boss, not some damn uppity muck. What do you want?'

'Well-' Victor could not quite get it out. 'That is I was hoping. . . . Oh, never mind. Please have a seat.'

Estil stood there with his arms folded over his chest. His body language clearly saying, 'We are not going to get anything else done until this is taken care of.'

In the end, the young bureaucrat spat it out. 'Sir, I was hoping . . .' After one last false start, Victor finally said, 'Ah . . . do you think you might be able to get me an invitation to the party?'

Estil's face cracked. Having leverage was not something he was used to. The smile in his voice echoed the smile on his face. 'Kid, if I've got the power to hand out invitations, then you're in.'

****

Victor's boss, Herr von Whatever, was less impressed. 'Victor, take Herr Congdon down to the tailors. They are expecting him.'

After Victor translated, Estil asked, 'A tailor? What for?'

'Some new clothes, of course.'

'I don't need new clothes.'

Herr von Something-or-other looked Estil down and up then sneered. 'Yes, you do,' Victor translated.

'I can't pay for a dammed tailor.'

'It's covered. His Majesty's government's expert on up-time culture must look the part to be taken seriously. I do not wish to deal with the embarrassment. So you will be provided with a new wardrobe. You can pick your old one up on your way home.'

****

Estil was picked up by a coach and six, trimmed in genuine gold leaf, the buttons on the coats of the coachman and footmen and the metal work on the harness were made of silver. The taste, bouquet and texture of the brandy waiting in the carriage said Napoleon, which it could not be for obvious reasons. It had been aged well past five years. A distilled wine must be aged two years to be brandy, and three years to be special and over five to be very special old pale. V.S.O.P. was not something Estil bought with his pocket change, other than in his dreams.

****

Estil's first glance identified Countess von Leiningen-Westerburg as a trophy wife. It seemed a crying shame for such a beautiful young girl to be married to such a dried-up old man. There was the better part of a half century separating their ages. The count did not have time to stay past the briefest of introductions. Estil was left alone with the countess and several servants.

'Mr. Congden, so good of you to come.'

Estil could see her taking his measure, even with his surprise at her English skills. I'm a bit older than she pictured, but I look younger than I am. I'm dressed the part to a tee. I'm tall, slim, (at this he smiled) dark-haired, and handsome.

'Watch it boy,' his id told his ego, 'you're getting plenty cocky. Your mother always said, 'pride goeth before a fall.''

'Oh shut up,' his ego replied.

'You have been told what we wish?' The young countess, Maria, asked.

'An up-time cocktail party.'

'This is the first party we are giving since our wedding, which was on the estate. It is very important to me personally. Everything must go well! It is to be a New Years Eve costume party. The theme is a cocktail party in the year 2000, so the guests should come in Grantville formal dress. There will be a dinner and dancing in the ballroom. You will need to talk to the kitchen staff about the details, but the menu has been researched and is in place. We have hired musicians who are ready and able to play up-time dance music. You will instruct the wine steward and his staff in the art of making cocktails. You will look over our preparations, tell us what to change and then make everything run smoothly. The seamstress is hard at work on the sewing machine making new period clothes for the servants.'

'Yes, I see,' Estil said, then looked over as one of the servants stepped closer.

'Mister Congden, this is Heinrich, our chief steward. He will give you a tour of the facilities and run over the preparations we have already made. Then this evening . . .'

She was almost shy, as if she was doing something a bit naughty. She continued, 'Since the count is away, why don't you join me for dinner and we can discuss where we are with the preparations and what we need to do next.'

****

When Estil and Heinrich were out of sight, Marie turned to her personal maid and confidant. 'What do you think?' she asked.

'I think you had better watch yourself around that one. I saw the way he was looking at you. At least he looks enough like the count to be his brother and he also looks nearly young enough to be his son.'

'Anna, you know what this party means to me.' This was effectively Marie's coming-out party. She was the