The Scent of Sake (52 page)

Hiro still refusing to marry, our succession would be a critical problem,” Rie said.

“Hasn’t Hiro had two or three o-miais?” Tama asked.

“Oh, more than that, Tama. He has refused them all. Fumi is at her wit’s end. And now he is twenty-four. What a worry!” Rie tapped her fan on the table. “I know you have been spending more time in the office, Tama, ever since Yoshi’s accident. And now with Ume gone you will be freer to do even more. Isn’t it quiet here without Ume?” Rie smiled briefly. She did not really feel like smiling about Ume’s departure, but wanted to improve Tama’s mood. “Well, we need to try to encourage Yoshi.”

“Yes, we must,” Tama said. “I’m glad that we have Buntaro.” “But Buntaro is so recent. He was never that close to Yoshi. It was completely different with Kinno.” Rie sighed again. “Come,

let’s see how Yoshi is doing.”

Hirokichi’s refusal to marry any of the women the younger Mrs. Nakano and other go-betweens brought to o-miai meetings was causing the Omura House great embarrassment and threatened to become a minor scandal. It was not his association with O-Fusa that caused raised eyebrows. Most men who could afford it patronized one or more geisha. But that he was promised succession to the great Omura House and despite that, continued to reject all prospective brides was a violation of all standards of propriety.

Yoshitaro was furious, Rie was irate, and Fumi railed helplessly. “It’s already four years since we sent Ume out, Mother,” Yoshitaro complained. “We should have kept her here with her husband as successor, and we would still have Kinnosuke with us. Hirokichi is nothing but trouble for the main house.” He coughed, then straightened and pushed his hair back from his face. He scowled. “I never thought Hiro was a good choice. He

doesn’t deserve to succeed,” he said.

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“It’s too late now, Yoshi,” Rie said. “We’ll have to make the best of it. I have a feeling he’ll come around if we find the right bride.”

“There is no right bride for him. How about bringing in Seisaburo’s son?” Yoshitaro asked.

“Nobuo is still too young, Yoshi. He’s not eighteen yet. It’s true that he has had the best training. But we don’t want to think of his marriage yet.”

Yoshitaro coughed uncontrollably. Rie left the office and went to the garden to try to recover her peace of mind. She sat on her rock to meditate, to try to collect her thoughts. Just then the door to the kitchen corridor opened and Fumi appeared.

“Mother, may I speak with you?” Fumi asked.

“In a minute, Fumi.” Rie racked her brain, implored the gods for help in finding a solution to the problem that had plagued the house for so long. Fumi’s distress was more than she could deal with at the moment. And Yoshitaro’s anger was damaging his health even further. She sighed, rubbed her throbbing temples, and reluctantly rose to go in.

“Oh, Mother, I need to talk to you,” Fumi said again as soon as she saw Rie.

“I know. Come, let’s go to the parlor. Would you bring us some tea please, O-Yuki,” Rie said as she passed the kitchen.

Rie and Fumi sat at the low lacquer table near the tokonoma. “What shall we do, Mother?” Fumi asked.

“Fumi, I thought you had come with some good news or a new idea,” Rie said, frowning.

“No, there’s no sign of hope. So many o-miais and Hiro has refused them all. And my husband wants to disinherit Hiro. We can’t even do anything about Mie’s marriage with this hanging over us.” Fumi rested her chin on her hand and leaned toward her mother.

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“We can’t delay Mie’s marriage any longer. Hiro’s stubborn-ness is all over Nada now and it won’t help Mie to find a husband, whether or not he succeeds to the main house.”

Fumi pouted. “It’s just not fair to Mie. I’ve told Hiro so.” “Complaining will not help us or change his character, Fumi.

We need to think of a way out. Hiro is very talented when he puts his mind to his work. I’m still confident about that. I can’t support disinheriting him. But five years is too long. We must act now.”

Three months after Rie’s conversation with Fumi a worse crisis threatened the house. Yoshitaro’s health took a sudden drastic turn. One night he hemorrhaged; blood soaked his futon faster than Tama could contain it. Rie sent for the herbalist urgently in the middle of the night, but Yoshitaro was beyond help. Rie put her hand on Yoshitaro’s face and neck, and rested her other hand on his. Tama rocked back and forth in distress, covering her face. Before morning Yoshitaro’s last rasping breath failed. Rie and Tama sat on either side of his futon, aghast.

When morning finally dawned, alerted family members gathered from the branch houses: Ume and her husband, Eitaro and Fumi with Hirokichi and Mie, and Seisaburo and Mari with their two children.

Rie had no chance to be alone with her emotions before having to greet her children and their families.

“Well,” she said deliberately, as they sat around her in the parlor, “we all knew his health was failing, but we didn’t expect

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the end so soon.” She glanced at Ume and saw her dabbing at her tears. “And now we are a house without a head.” She looked pointedly at Hirokichi. “We are in an untenable position. We will plan to have the memorial service five days from now. Eitaro and Sei, please make the arrangements. Then we will need to take steps about the succession.” Rie bowed to her sons and Tama. Rie glanced briefly at Fumi and saw that she was weeping. Hirokichi sat as if made of stone.

In the days before the funeral Rie felt her age and the flutter in her heart had increased with the added stress. She had witnessed the deaths of too many house heads: her father, her adopted husband, and now her adopted son. It was too soon after Kinno’s retirement. And it was not the natural order for one’s children to predecease one. Lack of a successor was a crisis of major propor-tions.

The funeral was as large as Jihei’s had been. Most of the Kobe and Nishinomiya brewers came. But who should make the formal greetings in the absence of a house head? Rie was tempted to ask Eitaro to make the announcements, but because of Hirokichi’s intransigence, she turned instead to Seisaburo.

On the day of the memorial service Rie thought her son looked quite distinguished as he stood at the head of the room filled with black-clad mourners. She scanned the room quickly until her glance rested on a hunched figure in the corner. It was Kinnosuke. Not far away was Saburo, the man who had given her Fumi. The man who had seen her through every crisis, if from a distance. Rie felt a catch in her throat.

“We thank you all for coming today to remember the head of the Omura House.” Seisaburo’s resonant voice filled the room. “He has joined the ancestors suddenly. In this difficult moment for the house we are especially grateful for your continued cooperation and support,” he continued.

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When Seisaburo finished his speech, sake was served down the lines of seated mourners. Next to Tama, Rie sat straight-backed, eyes downcast, with neither the need nor ability to speak. She left Tama, Eitaro, and Seisaburo to greet the departing guests. Even to speak to Saburo seemed too great an effort on this painful night.

The next morning Rie found it difficult to rise at her usual hour. She heard Tama stirring downstairs but could not summon the energy to join her in the kitchen. Well, I am seventy-four, she told herself, and Tama is capable of supervising the household. She turned over on her futon, but a disturbing thought invaded her consciousness. Yoshitaro’s sudden demise had left the house without a head. To be sure, business would not stop; she herself had possession of the Omura family seal, the seal that made official any decision or document. Still, she must be up. She threw off the futon, and as she slowly rose heard her knee joints crack. She dressed, slapped down the stairs to the kitchen, and asked O-Yuki for a cup of tea. She sipped slowly, then went to the parlor and peered in. Tama was seated before the Butsudan, incense smoke curling around her bowed head.

Rie turned without speaking and went into the wintry garden. It was March, not a time to linger, but she needed the solitude. She thought about Hirokichi’s continued recalcitrance, and tried to dismiss him from her thoughts. He had not shown that he was deserving of the headship yet. She brooded and glanced at the ripples the koi caused on the pond’s surface. She paced slowly the length of the garden and back, hands thrust into the sleeves of her padded kimono, her gaze focused on the cold gray stone steps. It was way too late now to recall Ume and her husband to the main house. Soon it would be time to prepare for the end of season celebration, but it would be briefer than usual. Her thoughts rested on Tama, Yoshitaro’s steadfast, hardwork—

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ing widow; Tama, who had worked at her side uncomplaining all these years. Rie nodded and murmured softly, “Yes.”

She turned and walked back through the house to the parlor, where Tama still knelt arranging thin reeds and grasses in a black vase.

“
Ah,
Tama,” Rie said, joining her before the Butsudan. “How are you this morning, after such a difficult ordeal?”

“Good morning, Mother, and you?”

“Well, I have been thinking, Tama.” Rie lit an incense stick and pushed it deeper into the ash mixture.

“You know we cannot exist without a successor to Yoshi.”

“I know,” Tama nodded, pausing with a stem in her hand to look at Rie.

“I have decided because of Hirokichi’s stubborn opposition to have you succeed for the three years allowed.”

Tama’s eyes widened. “Is it possible for a woman?”

Rie smiled. “Yes, with the approval of the local officials a woman can succeed for three years. It’s in the regulations of the association, though it doesn’t often happen.”

Tama bowed deeply. “I wonder if I would be capable.”

Rie took out her fan. “I have watched you work here for over twenty-five years. You have worked as hard and capably as anyone. I am here to support you. Only remember that it will be necessary for you to speak at some formal occasions. You can practice. And spend more time with Buntaro now.”