Grantville Gazette 37

The count nodded.

Estil made the shot and made it look easy.

'Heinrich!' The count bellowed. 'Somebody, find the chief steward immediately.'

When the man arrived, out of breath, the count was screwing Estil's stick back together. 'Of course, it only needs to be in two pieces for traveling,' Estil was saying.

'Ah, Heinrich, take Herr Congden to the wood turner first thing tomorrow and have a dozen queue sticks made up.'

The clacking of billiard balls lingered into the darkest hours of the night before the count was ready to call an end to the lesson. At dawn, after only three hours of sleep, Heinrich was shaking Estil awake.

'Leave me alone.'

'But, Herr Congden, the count said we were to go to the wood turner first thing this morning.'

'Fine, come back while it is still morning at, say, eleven thirty.'

'Eleven thirty would not be the first thing in the morning. The count will want to see the new sticks after he breakfasts.'

In the coach on the way back to the town house after taking the first turned and waxed stick to a harness shop to be tipped, with arrangements for eleven more to follow, Estil told Heinrich, 'I will never, ever bet against the count on a game of pool again. After one night, he is as good as I am and I've been shooting pool for years. With some practice he will be the next national champion.'

In the early afternoon, right after breakfast, the count was back in the billiards room getting a feel for his new cue stick. 'Ah, Herr Congden, how much shall we wager today?'

'One dollar per game is my limit.'

'But last night you were willing to risk it all?'

'Last night I had never seen you shoot pool. I asked you how much you were willing to lose. Well, I am willing to lose one dollar. So one dollar is all I am going to bet, because just as sure as the felt is flat, I am going to lose.'

'You are not being fair. I deserve a chance to win it back.'

'Sir, when I put my winnings in my suitcase, everything I have in the world will be in that one bag. Is it fair you were born rich and I wasn't? You are a count, I am a bartender.'

'Yes, I often forget you American's are peasants. You just don't act like peasants are supposed to. Well, what are you going to do with the money you won?'

'I don't even know how much it is. I was never told what the gig paid. There is only one thing I've wanted for years now, and I doubt I won enough to cover it.'

'Oh? And what is that?' the count asked in a friendly way as he leaned over the table to take a shot.

This is when Estil made his first big mistake. 'A pool hall of my own, with a cocktail bar.' Estil said starting with what he knew the count was interested in. 'Now, stop and chalk the tip. You slipped on the last stroke. Then, when you shoot the next shot, cue it low so you get back spin. You want to come back out to set up the shot after that.'

The old man had a soft touch and excellent control.

'Good. Now, what's your next shot after this one?'

'I want to come back down the table,' the count said, pointing at the far end of the table.

'That will work,' Estil said.

'Your own pool hall? You will need an estate house to have a pool hall.'

'Naw. You would need someplace in a big town, say, Magdeburg. You would want at least three tables. Six would be better.'

'Three?' But you can only play on one at a time.'

'Oh, the tables are for the customers.'

'You would put billiards in a common inn?'

'Of course not! It would be a most uncommon inn. First it would be members only, or by invitation. And the membership would be limited to gentlemen. You would have a wine cellar the envy of all Europe and a superlative kitchen. You would want a half-dozen permanent chess tables for long running games and extra boards for short play. It would be a quiet place where gentlemen could gather and socialize without planning or hosting an event. There would be half-a-dozen rooms available for those nights a man stayed late and didn't want to make the trip home, or planned overnight stays for men who do not keep a residence in Magdeburg and are in town alone without any family in tow for a night or two.'

'These rooms for overnight guests, would you be staffing them?'

'Yes, but if you mean would we be providing female companionship, then the answer is no. I don't care to run a whorehouse. If a gentleman has need of such, then he can go elsewhere. The club would be a place of civilized companionship between gentlemen. There are times the ladies are just a distraction-not that I don't fully appreciate being distracted, mind you-but everything in its place, after all. The Lord created Eve to be a distraction and look where that got us. No, the staff would all be male.'

The count chuckled. 'Well said, young man.' With the rising prominence of the lower house of the legislature, and with Gustav pandering to the masses, the idea of a club for cultured gentlemen-limited to such by the very stiff fees it would take to keep such an establishment running-appealed to the count.

****

The party was a smashing success. The waltz was watched closely and invitations like 'why don't you plan on coming a few days early to my next party so you can teach a few of us,' were widely offered to Estil and to the young dancers, who were suddenly very popular people. Several more people asked Estil where their staff could reach him in the future.

The night of the party, when the count was not trying to sample every new drink on the menu or waltzing with his young wife, he could be found in the billiard room demonstrating the use of a pool cue. Anytime he was in the billiard room, he was talking about a capital city gentleman's club. Estil was asked repeated question about what the club would entail. Everyone who asked a question assumed Estil would oversee its founding and running. One person did ask outright if he was willing to do so.

Estil smiled and said, 'Sure, why not.' He had, after all, hit the lottery in a big way.

Along about dawn, when the last of the guests were on their way home or put to bed and the old count was out for the count, a teenaged girl slipped into Estil's bedroom and bed. Estil had been concentrating on his dream all night long. He found himself quite ready for a distraction.

This was Estil's second big mistake.

****

On the third of January 1635, Estil stepped out of a gold-trimmed coach in front of the building used by the State Department in Magdeburg. He stopped in the office with the words Community Relations painted on the door to pick up the wardrobe he had been forced to leave there.

'Estil, thank you for the invitation to the party. My wife was very impressed. Do you think you could teach us to waltz?'

'Victor, I could, I guess, but when and where? I'm heading back to Grantville now that the party is over.'

'Oh? Why? You'll just have to turn around and come back.'

'What are you talking about?'

'We've got you scheduled to consult for a party on January twenty-third and they want you there as soon as you can make it. Then there's two more in late February. They're only a week apart, but they're both here in town so you can manage both. We have four requests in March and you'll only be able to do one of them so we haven't decided yet-'

'You what? You scheduled me? How dare you?'

'We were going to wait until you got here. But someone from Grantville stopped by to ask how things went. This was just after the first request arrived. He told us to go ahead and schedule you. He said to tell you Ken, whoever he is, figured out he doesn't need bar help, so you need a job.'

'You can just take a flying leap at the moon. I don't care if I need a job or not. I'm going home.'

'I was told to tell you that Ken has rented out your trailer while you were gone.'

'Damn! That ain't fair. Now I'm going to have to find another place to stay.'