Karolina's Twins (10 page)

“‘I guess she had bigger plans for me. I was going to … never mind.'

“‘Private school? In Kraków?' He smiled a knowing smile. ‘The Gymnasium, perhaps?' He pointed a finger at me. ‘I've seen you at the synagogue. And I've seen you in the square.' He gestured with a sweeping motion at the women in the Shop. ‘Their mothers all taught them how to sew and they've all brought their own sewing machines from home. The Nazis have confiscated every other sewing machine in Chrzanów and brought them here or shipped them to other work centers. We do not provide our workers with sewing machines. Or sewing lessons. How do you think you will work here?'

“‘I don't know, David,' I said with a bit of an attitude. ‘This has not been a very good day.'

“He laughed. ‘I like you. The colonel's right, you've got spunk.' He turned and started walking. ‘Spunk, but no sewing machine. Follow me.'

He brought me past several workers and around a corner. ‘Mrs. Klein is sick today. She's sick every day, poor thing. When she works, she only works a few hours a day. I don't know if she'll ever return. I'm covering for her. I've kept her off the transport lists. If you're sitting at her machine, you'll fit in all right.'

“‘Thank you,' I said quietly. ‘I'm sorry if I was snippy. But I just got pulled off a dairy wagon and placed in the backseat of a Nazi Mercedes driven by a German colonel. He caught me on the streets without my armband.'

“‘You got the royal treatment. Oberst Müller came to Chrzanów three months ago. He's in charge of all the German soldiers stationed here, but rumor is that the SS will soon be arriving and then they'll call the shots. Soon after they arrive, they'll be doubling up the deportations. Jewish families will be sent somewhere else.'

“‘How do you know these things?'

“David smiled broadly. ‘I keep my ears open.'

“I'm talking to him and the whole time I'm thinking, ‘God, he's good looking. How come I never noticed him in synagogue?' I asked him, ‘Where are they sent, the people that they transport? Maybe my family has gone there.'

“David shook his head. ‘Work camps, prisons. I don't know.'

“I stood there with only the clothes I had in my duffel and nowhere to live. ‘The Germans have taken my home and I don't have anywhere to sleep. Do you know where I can sleep?'

“David flashed another handsome smile. ‘Is that a trick question?'

“I had to laugh. ‘Seriously.'

“He shrugged. ‘If you have a friend in town, I suggest you go there. Or, I hear there are still some rooms in the ghetto for a small rental. That's where all the Jews are supposed to go.'

“I sat down in front of the machine, not having the faintest clue what to do. David chuckled. ‘I'll send Ilsa over to teach you.'

“A few minutes later David returned with an older woman and an armload of woolen material. She sat next to me and huffed. ‘I am Ilsa. I will show you how to sew a coat.' She proceeded, in twenty minutes, to give me a crash course on how to sew an entire wool overcoat. She was an excellent teacher, but I did not hold up my part of the educational process. ‘Coats do not have three armholes,' Ilsa said. ‘Ach. You can't put buttonholes on the right side and also on the left side.' She was not overly friendly.

“David came by in the afternoon. ‘How's she doing?' Ilsa shook her head in exasperation. ‘Look.' She held up a sample of my handiwork. ‘Just fine if you have three shoulders.' David smiled. ‘Keep working, you'll get it.'

“It took a day or two, and several discarded coats, but I finally got the hang of it. That first day I worked a seven-hour shift and was released at six
P.M.
Before I left, David handed me an identification card showing that I worked at the Shop.

“‘On those days when you are coming or going from the Shop, walking through the town, outside the ghetto, or if you're out after curfew, this ID card is your authority to be on the street. The Germans know to leave my workers alone. Still, many are vicious sadists, so you are wise to walk on the other side of the street and avoid confrontation. Be here, sitting at your station, at seven tomorrow.'

“I thanked him and started to leave when he stopped me. ‘Did you eat today?'

“‘I had breakfast.'

“He asked me to wait and returned with a paper sack. ‘Here is food for tonight. It's already too late to buy food from the stores, the ones that are allowed to serve Jews. They sell out early in the day. You'd be wise to visit a store at sunrise, when they first open. Even before that, get in line with your coupons.'

“I thanked him again. I realized that the bag of food was an expression of David's understanding that I was a fish out of water. I was totally unprepared for the life I was about to experience.

“That evening, I walked across town, through the square and into the ghetto. My home, several blocks away, now belonged to the German woman I'd heard bitching while I was in the attic. Karolina's home, the one-story white house with wooden siding across the field, now belonged to some fat slob lying in her bed. I didn't know anyone else I could stay with. I needed to find a room. Besides, if my family was in the ghetto, there was a good chance I could catch up with them.”

 

N
INE

T
HE PHONE RANG IN
Liam's office and the caller ID told him it was Bolger & Martin, one of the city's largest law firms.

“Mr. Taggart? This is Mike Shirley over at Bolger. We represent Arthur Woodward.”

“Ah, yes. Arthur. A very unpleasant fellow. What is it you want with me, Mr. Shirley?”

“Mike. Call me Mike. And can I call you Liam? Let's get this thing off on the right foot. Things will always go more smoothly if we're sociable.”

“You might mention that theory to your client, Mike. But, again, how can I help you?”

“I would like to come and meet with you and Ms. Lockhart.”

“To what end?”

“Well, it's about Arthur's mother. She hasn't been well. Arthur's concerned about her … uh … her…”

“Estate, Mike. The word you're looking for is estate.”

“No, no, not at all. He's concerned about her health. You know, she's eighty-nine years old.”

“She looked pretty healthy to me. But, in case you didn't know, Ms. Lockhart's not a doctor.”

Shirley's tone changed. “Liam, let's stop playing these games. My client wants me to set up a meeting. We can meet in Ms. Lockhart's office or we can meet in a courtroom. Why don't we try to avoid the latter?”

“Why didn't you call Catherine directly? Why go through me?”

“I'm sorry, I tried. She wasn't in this afternoon and she hasn't returned my call. I figured you could get through to her quicker than I could.”

“When do you want to meet?”

“The sooner the better. Arthur is very concerned.”

“No doubt. I'll speak to Catherine and I'm sure one of us will get back to you tomorrow.”

“That'll be just fine, Liam. Just fine.”

*   *   *

C
ATHERINE ENTERED THE FOYER
, brushed a few November snowflakes from her coat and hung it on the coatrack.

“How was your appointment this afternoon?” Liam said. “Did Dr. Epstein tell you it was the most good-lookin'-est baby he ever saw?”

Catherine laughed. “There's not a lot they can see on an ultrasound at this stage, but he said I'm doing fine.” She feigned a pout. “I've gained four pounds!”

Liam spread his hands. “Where? No way. Tell him I've paid close attention to every inch, under the most intimate of circumstances, and the mother-to-be has her movie-star figure intact.”

Catherine gave him a peck on the cheek. “There was a message that Michael Shirley called me this afternoon about Mrs. Woodward. He wants to schedule a meeting.”

“I know. I spoke to him. He represents Arthur. He wants to meet with both of us.”

“Liam, there is absolutely nothing wrong with Lena Woodward. She's sharp as a tack. I wish I had her memory skills.”

“Shirley threatened a lawsuit. Said he'd meet us in your office or in court.”

“The bastard's going to sue his mother? She hasn't been through enough in her life that she has to face a competency hearing brought by her own son?”

“It's about the money.”

“No shit, Liam.” Catherine stormed into the kitchen and started to rattle the pots and pans.

“What are you doing, Cat?”

“Making pasta!” she snapped. “So I can gain another four pounds!”

He walked up behind her, put his arms around her and kissed her on the neck. “Come on, put the pots down. Don't let that jerk get under your skin. I'll take you to Sorrento's.”

She turned around and looked up into Liam's eyes. “She's such a sweet, courageous woman.” She shook her head. “We'll have to meet with him, you know. I don't want him running into court and filing some scathing petition accusing her of dementia.”

“You know how this will go. We'll meet with him. It'll get nasty. He'll demand you stop seeing Arthur's mother. You'll refuse. And at that point he'll hand you a petition that he's already drafted and tell you he's going to file it the next day.”

Catherine nodded. “Right. And at that moment, I want you to punch him in the face.”

Liam smiled. “I love the way you negotiate.”

As they walked to the car, Catherine said, ‘I've already set up a meeting with Lena for tomorrow at noon and I'm sure it will take the entire afternoon. Tell Shirley we'll meet with him on Thursday.”

 

T
EN

“L
ENA, BEFORE WE GET
started, I have to advise you that Arthur's attorney has requested a meeting with me.”

Lena sat with her hands folded in her lap. Her posture erect. As always, she was smartly dressed, this day in a tweed suit, white blouse and contrasting silk scarf. Her makeup was deftly applied and her hair was fashionably styled.

“He has scolded me for coming here and demanded that I cease seeing you,” she replied. “What is your position? Will you meet with his attorney?”

“I'm your lawyer, Lena. I'll do whatever you ask. But I have to tell you, Arthur's hired a very aggressive firm. If I don't meet with Mr. Shirley, he may up the ante.”

“What does that mean?”

“I'm not sure. He's intimated that he might petition the court to appoint a guardian.”

“A guardian for what? On what basis?”

“I don't know for sure, but I suspect he'll claim that because of your advancing age, you're no longer able to take care of yourself or make decisions concerning your property.”

“What nonsense! There's no truth to such a claim.”

“I know that. Do you think Arthur would go ahead with it?”

“Arthur is very headstrong. He's a controlling person, especially since my husband died. There's distance between Arthur and me. I don't know what he'd do to maintain control.” She paused. “Could he succeed? I'm eighty-nine years old.”

“Your age is not determinative. He would need medical proof, from professionals, not just his opinion. Can I ask you a personal question? Do you regularly see any doctors?”

“I see a rheumatologist for my arthritis, I see my cardiologist twice a year and my regular physician twice a year. I also regularly see my dentist— do you want to know that as well?”

“No, I'm sorry but…”

“I don't see any psychiatrists or psychologists. I don't see any geriatric specialists.” She looked straight into Catherine's eyes. “And I'm not senile. I've got all my wits. I haven't misplaced a single wit.”

“I believe you, but if he subpoenaed your medical records, your chart, your doctors' notes, would they reveal any discussions between you and your doctors about forgetfulness or memory problems?”

“When you get to be my age, it's a subject that comes up regularly at checkups. They're supposed to ask you about your mental condition. We talk about it. I've probably said I wish I was younger, but I don't think I've ever said that I was failing.”

“That's good.”

“I might have said I was forgetful. I can't remember names as well as I used to. Maybe my memory is not as good as it once was. You know, if you keep packing information into your brain for eighty-nine years, it gets pretty full. But I'm not confused, I'm not incompetent.”

“I don't think so either.”

“Let me ask: at this meeting that Arthur's demanded, what if his aggressive attorney insists that you stop representing me?”

Catherine shook her head. “I don't take my orders from Arthur.”

Lena nodded sharply. “Good. Then this subject is closed. There's nothing wrong with me. Shall we continue?”

Catherine smiled, set her notepad on her lap and replied, “By all means.”

“I left the Shop and headed for the ghetto to find a place to sleep. My house, Karolina's house—they were confiscated. I had other friends, but they were Jewish as well, and I suspected that their homes had been taken away too. Besides, I didn't feel comfortable showing up at their houses and asking to stay there. David told me that rooms were available in the northeast section, in the Jewish ghetto, so that was where I was going.

“When I left the Shop, it was after curfew and the streets were quiet. I shouldn't say that. They were quiet near the ghetto. People like me, coming home from work with ID cards, we were quiet. We kept to the shadows to avoid the Germans. But in the square it was a different story. The soldiers were a boisterous, pompous lot. I could see them sitting in the restaurants and bars, full plates of food, steins of beer, laughing and joking. No ration cards necessary for them. If they were out and about, and if they encountered a Jew on the street, they were inclined to abuse her for sport.