Carl was seated in his safe room reading a copy of a diary that had been written in 1643 by Roberto Curador. His command of modern Spanish was just barely up to the task of making out the much older version of Spanish Roberto had used. Spelling, style of use, and meaning had drifted a bit since 1643. He had just finished reading the entry in which Roberto had described the stories he had been told about the events of the day when the Swedes sacked the town. There were times when reading it that he could feel tears running down his cheeks.
In reading about the disaster that had befallen his ancestors, he understood why they had chosen to pledge loyalty to each other over King and country. The Baron, charged with protecting them in exchange for taxes, had failed them. Since peasants ... and there were no doubts that they were peasants ... were not allowed to possess weapons, the Baron's failure had left them at the mercy of the Swedes. The Swedes had lacked mercy of any kind.
There was a violence in those times that was unimaginable to the modern mind. By today's standards, pillaging a village and ravaging its occupants was a war crime. In those days, it was just part and parcel of war. A field of grain with peasants to work the field was a source of food for the enemy. Destroying peasants and taking the grain was an acceptable tactic of war. No one expected it to be otherwise. In the ruins of an inn, they realized that the only people they could turn to for help was each other.
It was a sobering thought. In 1643, that kind of sentiment was tantamount to heresy. The accepted hierarchy was God above Church, Church above King, and King above Subjects. For a subject to place himself above the King was to defy the Church. It just wasn't done.
They had accepted a woman, a prostitute no less, to be an equal member of their council. It was a break from custom to raise a woman to that social level. By the time Roberto had recorded the story of that night in his diary, the single men had married the women who had once worked for Helga. In effect, they had given her and her profession a legitimacy that was unprecedented.
Those weren't the only heresies they had committed. They had brought a Jew into their midst, and given him an equal voice in their council. In Spain, anyone suspected of being a Jew, could find themselves facing the Inquisition. The situation was only a little better in Germany. It was agreed that he would publicly declare himself to be a Conversos, a Jew who was a Christian convert, with the name: Gold. In private, the other families would help him practice his Jewish rites.
Their actions would have condemned them to death if anyone in power had learned of them. The Baron would have tortured them before killing them for defying his authority. The Church would have burned them at the stake as heretics. Secrecy was the only way to assure their security. One single misspoken word could doom them all.
Learning that two families had survived intact by hiding in a cellar under the house, explained the Pfand X requirement for a safe room. If more families in that town had had that same option available to them, a lot more of them would have survived the sacking of the town by the Swedes. It was the first lesson of that night, captured in the Pfand.
He had read about how the wife of Siegfried Bauer had led the Swedes away from her family in an attempt to assure their survival. She knew that she would be savagely raped, yet she did it anyway. That kind of bravery and sacrifice was almost unimaginable. Roberto recognized that she would not have died if they'd had a protected escape route to a safe place. It was the second lesson of that night, captured in the Pfand.
There had been a third lesson learned when clearing away the bodies on the morning after the sacking of the town. The wealthiest of the town's people had suffered the worst. The mayor and the male members of his family had been given the Schwedentrunk. The women had been brutally raped, probably in front of the men, before they died as a result of swords inserted through their sex. The priest had been nailed to the church's floor, before the church had been burnt. It was better to be a faceless member of the mob than to stand out from the crowd. The Pfand X stated that they were to live a life of moderation in every respect: wealth, religion, and community.
Anticipating the cold harsh winter, it was obvious that food would be their greatest problem. Their scavenging expeditions through the ruins of the town had allowed them to come up with the barest minimum necessary to survive. The gold coin of Samuel Goldstein had helped significantly, but everyone admitted that his presence in town was fortuitous. The Pfand X stated that they had to have sufficient hidden food and financial resources on hand, to survive until the next harvest.
In light of the lessons of the sacking of the town, and the clean up afterward, the Pfand X was a very practical document. It stated quite clearly what was necessary for survival in an uncaring world. Carl realized very quickly that was why it had managed to last over three and a half centuries.
Reading about how Helga Damenstern and the women who worked for her had survived had intrigued Carl. The way that she had managed to divert the intentions of the Swedish soldiers had been an inspired act of desperation. The amount of courage it had taken to stand in front of soldiers in a state of blood lust and offer the comfortable services of her house to the officers was almost unimaginable. He picked up the biography about her life, which had later been penned by Roberto.
After three hours, he put down the biography. Whether it was her profession or an integral part of her character, Helga Damenstern was exceptionally practical and honest about how the world worked. Every woman, regardless of age or appearance, had an asset between her legs that could serve to protect her or be roughly taken by others. She believed that a smart woman would allow it to protect her by learning to use it to her advantage in every situation.
Helga had spoken of different kinds of sexual congress. There was the congress of love. It was passionate and filled with positive caring emotion. It was the type of sexual congress that was given willingly to lovers.
There was the congress of relief in which a participant expected fun and sexual release from his or her partner. It was a one-sided form of congress, almost selfish at root, unless both partners recognized it for what it was: relief. Having lain with many a married man, she recognized that it had nothing to do with marriage and love. Being a woman, she knew that it was a need that wasn't restricted to just men. It was a view that she repeatedly drilled into the men of the Pfand X.
There was the congress of trade in which a participate would provide congress of relief to another in exchange for something of value. The something of value could be anything including money, food, shelter, or information. She saw this form of sexual congress, i.e., prostitution, as a very fundamental means of survival with which women had been blessed. A man who stood in the way of such congress was threatening the survival of the woman, her children, and often himself. It was a view that was slow to be accepted by the men of the Pfand, particularly when it was their wife or daughter involved in the congress of trade.
She also spoke of the congress of rape, not as a sex act, but as a violent demonstration of power over another by the rapist. This was one of the worst things that could befall a woman, or even a man. Elimination of the threat represented by a rapist, required avoiding or surviving a rape. The key to survival was recognizing that it was an act of power. Playing to the power could eliminate the need for its demonstration. Submitting to the power, could limit the violence of it. Meek submission could turn instantly violent, and catch the rapist by surprise. Even the strongest man, caught unprepared for an attack, could be overcome by a much weaker opponent.
Integral to her view on sex was her opinions about the relationship between men and women. In an idea that was extremely radical for the times, she viewed men and women as being equal partners in the family. The wife was more than cook, housekeeper, nanny, and brood mare; she was a partner in everything.
In times when women weren't allowed to run businesses, she convinced the men of the Pfand to take their wives into their businesses as equal, albeit silent, partners. If an extra hand was needed to plow the field, the husband should turn to the wife. Likewise, the man should support his wife in whatever manner was necessary.
The man who ignored the valuable resource that a wife represented, was a fool. A wife's council would have the husband's best interests at heart. She had just as much at stake in the family's future as the husband. It was practical advice that defied the beliefs of the time. If anyone actually thought about it, they would see she was correct. The Pfand thought about it.
Her attitude about sex and a woman's relationship with a man was remarkable for the time in which she lived. Even more remarkable was that she had been able to get the other members of the Pfand to accept her views. In a way, it spoke highly of the character of the men involved. Rejecting the rigidity of belief that often characterized the peasant mind, they had become agile in their thinking and could accept what was basically the unthinkable. Even today, there were few men outside the Pfand who could entertain the idea of their wife or daughter engaging in 'congress of trade' without anger.
Carl knew that he was having difficulty in accepting that his mother, his sister, and his high school sweetheart had been involved in congress of trade although reading Helga's biography was making it easier. He wasn't sure if it was the subtle change in label that made it more palatable: 'congress of trade' sounded much better than 'prostitution'.
After locking the safe, Carl went upstairs where his sister was putting some of the final touches on his bedroom. The living room was still a disaster, boxes of nick-knacks were piled along one wall, pictures in wooden frames leaned against a box, and furniture was scattered about the room. It would take a while to arrange it to her exacting standard. What he could see of it all, he could envision what the room would look like when she finished.
He walked into the bedroom and looked around. It was a very masculine looking bedroom. Above the solid bed was an oil painting of a nude woman reclining on a settee with an equally naked man between her legs.
Donna asked, "What do you think of the painting?"
"It's rather explicit. I'm not sure that I would have had the nerve to purchase it," Carl answered.
"It's a good painting for a bedroom. It will give your female guests something to anticipate," Donna said.
"I didn't think about it that way," Carl said.
Donna said, "You might want to think about giving Jennifer a call."
"I'll think about it," Carl said.
"Are you concerned about her job?" Donna asked.
"I'd be a liar if I said that I wasn't a little upset about it," Carl answered.
Donna asked, "Do you remember that two year period when the boys and the girls were kept separate from each other at the Cura Private School?"
"Yes."
"That's when got our sex education."
"Same for us," Carl said.
Donna said, "I don't know what the boys got, but the girl's lessons were pretty explicit."
"We ended up having sex with our instructor," Carl said.
"Ours didn't go quite that far," Donna said. "Well, I guess maybe it did. We were given a choice about the time we turned sixteen to have sex with one of our male instructors or to wait until we found the right guy."
"Male instructors? I thought you would have women like us," Carl said.
"We had male and female instructors. We were given the full arsenal of sex toys and taught how to use them on ourselves and on others – including men and women."
"Same here," Carl said.
Donna said, "One of the lessons was to read a cleaned up version of Helga Damenstern's biography."
"Cleaned up?"
"All references to the Pfand were removed. Her name was changed. The time period in which the events took place was two hundred years later," Donna said.
"That makes sense," Carl said.
"At the time that I read it, I didn't know that it had been cleaned up. It was presented as excerpts from a personal diary that had been found," Donna said. "It really affected me a lot. I mean, the whole idea that my vagina was the greatest survival asset, was just earthshaking to me. Until reading that, all of the history that I had learned, presented men as the foundation of survival for the family.
"Women were nothing but brood mares. Women were weak. Even queens had to fight for recognition as political powers. Henry VIII married and disposed of wives in a constant effort to get a male heir. Queen Elizabeth I, one of the strongest queens in history, was under unrelenting pressure to get married and have babies. It was almost enough to make me regret being born a woman.
"Then one day in school, I'm reading a diary that is a couple of hundred years old. It says women can use sex for love, for fun, and for survival of the family. I was enthralled when she described how the wife of the miller saved the town by having a long term sexual relationship with a Prince..."
Carl said, "I didn't get to that part yet."
"Actually, in Helga's biography, it was the new Baron who came to town and it was Gertrude Grun who had the long term affair with him. It was more or less expected that a woman would sleep with a nobleman and the husband would not complain."
Carl said, "Why would Gertrude Grun have a long term affair with the new Baron when there was a Damenstern available?
Donna said, "Helga was there and quite prepared to entertain the Baron. Unfortunately, the Baron had other ideas. He had become infatuated with Gertrude. It should be noted that Gertrude was a rather busty woman, whose chest was probably exaggerated as a result of carrying steins of beer around. Helga, as well as Ernest Grun, picked up on the fact that the Baron was interested in Gertrude. Ernest was not happy.
"Helga knew that trouble was on the horizon. She managed to get Ernest off to the side, and explained to him that the Baron was going to have Gertrude, whether he wanted it or not. Ernest, despite being upset, knew that Helga was correct. Putting a smile on his face, Ernest went out and made sure the Baron had the best food and beer that was available at the gasthaus.
While Ernest was plying the Baron with food and drink, Helga was busy talking with Gertrude and explaining that she shouldn't resist the Baron's advances. In fact, she should play up to the Baron about how rich and powerful he was. Using flattery and all of the other tools that a woman has at her disposal, she was to get the Baron talking about himself and what plans he had for the Barony. She was to be the best lover that the Baron ever experienced.
"To make a long story short, she spent the entire night with the Baron. When she wasn't keeping the Baron busy in bed, she kept him busy talking about himself. He told her why he was there and what he planned to do. The Baron didn't fall in love with her, but he did appreciate her skills in bed.
"In the morning, Gertrude told her husband ... who happened to be in a very grumpy mood ... that the Baron suspected that a number of people in town were holding back on their tithes to him and he was having every house searched. By the time the Baron had finished breakfast, every member of the Pfand had hidden away anything of value that had been in their house. Of course, the first place they searched was the gasthaus. The Baron's men only found the coin they had spent plus a few coins consistent with what a gasthaus would have with local trade.
"Ernest, as a result of his wife's warning, had managed to hide a hundred times that amount during breakfast. After a massive search of the other houses, the Baron left believing that he could not get more in tithes from this poor town. Not a single member of the Pfand lost the smallest coin as a result of her warning."
Carl asked, "How did Ernest feel?"
"I'm sure you can imagine. On one hand he was upset that Gertrude had spent the night with the Baron. On the other hand, he was pleased to have kept his head attached to his shoulders, and to keep his money, also. I would also say that Helga probably helped a little. After all, she spent the night with Ernest."
"I feel sorry for Ernest," Carl said.
Donna said, "In a way, Ernest and Gertrude became heroes within the Pfand. Families that could have lost the bulk of their savings and, possibly their lives, thanked the pair of them. Everyone realized just how valuable of a service Gertrude had performed for the Pfand. Helga made sure that Ernest was portrayed as having behaved in the way that a man should act and that Gertrude was portrayed as being the kind of supportive wife that any man should wish for. As you might suspect, that helped both of them come to grips with what they had done."
"It sounds like a fairy tale to me."
"In a way, it is, but it isn't fiction."
"Still, I just can't imagine some guy in 1643, or whenever it took place, patting another guy on the back and saying that he respected him for having let his wife sleep with another man. I really can't imagine some guy being okay with his wife sleeping with someone else," Carl said.
He couldn't imagine that happening in 2010. Most men today would divorce their wife and find another woman who would say, 'Not me. I'm not sleeping with that jerk.'
Donna said, "That's because you're not seeing it from the perspective of a man who has seen nearly everyone in his town die violent horrible deaths at the hands of well armed soldiers. The Baron was surrounded by well armed soldiers. He was a very real threat. For the amount of money they were hiding from the Baron, the punishment would have been death. You don't think they appreciated what Gertrude did. She saved their asses!"
"So what happened next?"
"Well, Gertrude slept with the Baron every time he came to town. Each time she managed to get him to tell her why he was there. Once he was there to find young men to serve in his guard. When the Baron went to look over the young men, the only ones of the Pfand that were available were those who wanted to be there. The others were busy in the fields or off doing something else. The Baron, very pleased with his visit, left town with two young men ... one of them was the son of Manfred Wache."
"That worked out well for everyone," Carl said.
"The details in the story version that we read in school differed in minor ways, but the essence remained true to the events reported in Helga's biography. The fact that things worked out well for everyone involved is what got to me. I thought about that story a lot. To me, Gertrude was a heroine. She was a wife of a respected man who was more or less forced to sleep with a nobleman. Instead of fighting it, she turned it to her advantage and in the process essentially saved her husband and the town."
Carl asked, "Is that when you decided to be an escort?"
"I was wondering when you would figured out that I used to work as an escort in New York," Donna said.
"I suspected it when you were talking about having retired and knowing that you are a member of the Weber family now," Carl said.
"What do you think of me?" Donna asked.
"I don't know. Did you want to be an escort?"
Donna said, "Actually, I wanted to be an interior decorator."
"So how did you become an escort?" Carl asked.
"When I graduated high school, a Weber came to talk to me about interior decorating. I imagine the discussion was much like when you joined the Bauer family. It was only after I joined that I learned that mother was a member of the Damenstern family. I heard about what a great woman our mother was. I couldn't believe it.
"Well, I talked to mother after having joined the Weber family. To say that I was shocked when I learned what mother had done in the past would be an understatement. I screamed at her. I called her a whore. She laughed at me and said that she was a Damenstern and damned proud of it.
"She told me about what she had done in Washington. The stories she told were just like the one in that book that I had read in sex education. She had slept with Senators and learned the backroom deals that were being made well before they became public knowledge. You wouldn't believe the kinds of things she discovered. Even today, every time I talk to an older member of the Pfand, they all praise mother."
Carl asked, "Did mother convince you to become an escort?"
"No, but she changed my thinking on the matter. I dropped the prostitute as victim mindset as a result of talking to Mom. She also convinced me that there was nothing romantic about it. I had seen Gertrude as a romantic figure. Mom straightened me out on that matter. Gertrude was a pragmatic figure."
Carl was getting frustrated. He was still trying to figure out how Donna had become an escort and she kept changing the conversation.
"So what convinced you to become an escort?"
"I've been telling you that."
"Continue with your story," Carl said giving up on ever getting an answer.
Donna rolled her eyes. "I was busy searching for a good location for my business. Every time I would go somewhere, I would stay with someone in the Pfand. Mostly I stayed with Gruns, either at their home or in their hotel. Occasionally, I would stay with a Damenstern. Almost every Damenstern would sigh and say it was a shame that I wasn't interested in the escort business because with looks like mine I could make millions just like my mother had.
"One day, I challenged Wanda Damen to prove to me that I could make millions. She took me shopping. Five hours later, she had spent over five thousand dollars on outfits for me. Of course, she said it was just a loan. That night, I went on my first date as an escort. We went to a fancy restaurant, a cocktail party, and then to his hotel. All he wanted was good old fashioned straight sex. Even though he paid for the whole night, he sent me home before two in the morning.
"I come home from a date with a check for twenty thousand dollars from the escort agency, a tip of five thousand dollars in my purse, and the knowledge that my date had a meeting the next day with another man about finalizing a merger. The next day, Wanda took me to the bank. She left with five thousand dollars of my earnings. I left with five thousand dollars of my earnings. The tip about the merger and the remaining fifteen thousand were given to a Goldstein.
"My next date went the same way although he definitely wanted more than straight sex and he kept me all night. The man was a real slime bucket. I mean, he was pretty horrible and didn't even give me a tip. I later discovered that I was a 'gift' for the Senator. I came home with a lot of money and a lot of knowledge that some major scam was taking place in the energy industry. A company name kept coming up in the conversation. Another trip to the bank and I left all of my money and knowledge with a Goldstein.
"I figure that I've had two dates and made about forty-five thousand dollars. It sounds like a lot of money, but it isn't. At that rate, it would take an awful lot of dates to make millions. I told Wanda that. She laughed at me and then told me to call Goldstein. He tells me I'm worth a hundred and fifty thousand dollars and that if the tip about the energy company collapsing was correct, that I'd be worth a hundred times that in a couple of months.
"My third date takes me to a cocktail party with a lot of financial analysts who are talking the whole evening about the weird accounting practices taking place at some company in the energy business. I'm standing there listening to all of this like some kind of bubble headed blonde with a vacuous expression on my face. Later, I tell my date that he must be so brilliant to understand all of that stuff about accounting practices. I'm really feeding his ego. Well, he explains it all to me. He tells me what he thinks is happening. I'm shocked when I discover the magnitude of the scam that has been perpetrated.
"I take my money to the bank and hand it all over to the Goldstein. He told me that I was now worth more than two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. He smiles at me and says that he had seen me at the cocktail party. He had confirmed that my tip was a good one and we were going to make a fortune. I tell him about what my date had told me. The Goldstein gets real excited.
"I realized that Wanda had been right about being able to make millions as an escort. So far, I'm making over eighty thousand dollars a date. For an nineteen year old woman, that's a lot of money for a little sex. I officially became a Damenstern.
"The next thing I know, I'm getting calls from other members of the Pfand thanking me for making them millions on the basis of my merger tip. I discover that I'm getting another quarter of a million dollars as thanks for my tip. I've gone on three dates in one month and I've earned half a million dollars. Needless to say, I'm stunned."
"I can imagine," Carl said.
"I was still thinking about opening a home decorating company, but by that time I was a little more willing to put it off for a couple of years. I mean, I was making a lot of money."
"I can understand that. It's got to be tempting," Carl said.
"I started taking four or five dates a month with some of the movers and shakers in the financial industry. It's almost always the same, a little dinner, a social event of some kind, a little entertainment, a lot of ego stroking, a little sex, sometimes a lot of sex, and a lot of information. I realized that the twenty thousand I'm getting from the escort agency was nothing compared to the knowledge that I'm getting. There's a lot of greedy bastards out there and they've egos the size of the solar system.
"Then one day I hear on the news about an energy company and a major scam that had been perpetrated. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. The stock in the company was dropping like a rock. I'm thinking, I'm ruined.
"I get a call from my Goldstein. He's telling that I was now worth over five million dollars, and if the stock fell to around ten dollars a share that I would be worth sixteen million. He had invested every dollar that I had given him against the company and it was paying off big time. Ultimately, I ended up with about twenty-six million as a result of the fall of that one company."
"Jesus," Carl said.
"For the next four years I kept taking four or five dates a month..."
"Wait a second, you say that you were only taking four or five dates a month?" Carl asked imagining that an escort dated every night.
"Yes. When your dates are some of the wealthiest and most powerful men in the country, they don't want people to know that you're an escort. As result, you might have dates with one or two men in a particular social circle. The arrangement will last for a couple months or even a year, but you are limited to who you can date. You don't want to show up on the arm of the business competitor of your last date one week and then on the arm of one of his competitors the next week. If you're lucky, you might break into four or five different social circles."
"What do you mean by social circles?"
"The automotive people, oil barons, investment bankers, entertainers, fashion folks, real estate moguls, and other major business areas each form a closed social circle. Basically, a social circle is made of people who are brought together because they have common business interests."
"Interesting," Carl said.
Donna said, "From my perspective it was good that I had to limit my contact within a specific social circle and to engage as many social circles as possible. If I met with the same people all of the time, I would not learn much new. If I was stuck with the same group, it might be five or six months between good tips. As it was, in an average month, I might pick up one tip that was worth something."
"I get it."
"Well, after a while I got tired of dealing with power hungry assholes and jerks. I quit dating, for the most part, and took over the New York escort agency."
"Why did you retire from running the agency?"
Donna grinned. "That's a long story. Despite running the agency, I would still go on an occasional date. One day I got a request for a woman and a bisexual man for a single private date..."
"Your agency dealt with bisexuals?"
"Bisexual men and women, lesbians, and gays. There's a demand for all of them," Donna said. "You learn not to be too judgmental."
"I suppose so," Carl said.
"I didn't have anyone available, so I call up this guy who retired a couple of years earlier. I make the arrangements for him and I to met with the client. So we get there and start talking. By the end of the evening, I've really fallen for Jake..."
"Jake? Your Jake?"
"Yes."
"He was your client?"
"No. He's the guy I called out of retirement."
"Jake was a prostitute?" Carl asked.
"I guess you didn't figure that one out," Donna said.
"I'm just surprised."
"I learned that Jake had a home decorating business here where we grew up. We dated for a while and then I married him. I retired from the escort business, returned to being a Weber, and went into the interior decorating business with him."
"I had no idea," Carl said. "I can't believe he's bisexual."
"He's not really bisexual. He can perform and that's all that's required. You don't have to enjoy the act, just act like you enjoy it. That's what congress of trade is all about," Donna said.
"I never thought of it that way," Carl said.
Donna asked, "So what do you think of your big sister now?"
"It's a lot to take in."
"You'll get used to the idea of what I've done, over time," Donna said softly.
"It's all just so sudden. I had no idea," Carl said apologetically.
Donna said, "You might want to talk a little with Mom and Silvia Farmer before it's too late. They might let you understand a little better than I can."
"Too late for what?" Carl asked.
"Jennifer."
"What about Jennifer?"
"You know what she does," Donna said.
"She's an escort."
"Right. She's looking to retire in a year or two," Donna said.
"What is she planning on doing?"
"She's planning on going into public relations. She has been taking college courses at Columbia in communications," Donna said.
"She'd be great at that," Carl said.
Donna said, "She'd love to be in charge of public relations for a brand new gourmet pickle company."
"Why on earth would she choose a pickle company?"
"Are you serious?"
"You're right. Stupid question."
Donna asked, "Why did you choose to make pickles?"
Carl laughed at the question. He didn't know how many people had asked him that. It was like no one could believe that someone would want to make pickles.
Carl answered, "At school we had to work in the garden."
Donna said, "I remember doing that. I hated it. For an hour every morning and every afternoon, we had to go out there and weed. I grew a bunch of carrots. Every week I had to plant more carrots. I picked carrots until I thought my name was Bugs Bunny."
Carl said, "I was in charge of the cucumbers. I planted about three different varieties of cucumbers because I didn't know the difference between one kind of cucumber and another. I figured with three different kinds of cucumbers that one of them would be good to eat.
"Unlike you, I really enjoyed taking care of my cucumbers. Every time I went out to the garden, I would check each hill to see how my plants were doing. I weeded, fertilized, and watered them.
"I guess as a result of all of the work I put into my plants, I had a bumper crop. I'm talking about hundreds of cucumbers. There was absolutely no way we were going to be able eat all of them. They were going to throw the ones we couldn't use away, but I didn't like that idea at all. I mean, I had put a lot of work into raising them. I decided to pickle the ones we weren't going to eat.
"I don't mean to brag, but my pickles were the best pickles I've ever eaten. Everyone agreed with me that they were damned good pickles. The next year, I didn't get to work in the garden, but I did get to work in the kitchen. Guess what? I got to make another batch of pickles and they were even better.
"After graduating from the Cura Private School, I continued to make pickles as a hobby. Every summer break during college, I made pickles. Sweet pickles, dill pickles, garlic-dill pickles, and a dozen other recipes. When I graduated, I looked around and decided I wanted to continue making pickles."
"That's an incredible story," Donna said.
"I am good at it, so why not?" Carl said.
"So how's it going?"
Carl was silent for a moment. "I don't know. Tom Farmer called me this morning and said that he wants to meet with me next Monday to discuss the matter. He says there's a problem with going into the pickle business. When I asked him what the problem was, he said he couldn't explain it over the phone."
"That doesn't sound good," Donna said with a worried expression on her face.
"I know. Five days ago, he thought it was a great idea. We even have a real estate agent looking for a place to put the processing plant," Carl said.
"I don't understand why he would suddenly reverse himself like that," Donna said.
"Neither do I," Carl said.
"Maybe you can meet with him sooner than next Monday."
"He's traveling on business."
Donna said, "I should get back to decorating your bedroom. Hubby's waiting for me at home. I want to get there before he gets tired of waiting and finds someone younger than me."
"Younger? Not prettier?"
"Look at me! I'm one hot babe!"
Edited By TeNderLoin