Winter Passing (16 page)

In her little free time, Darby took to driving country roads along cold irrigated pasturelands, through the rocky, oak-covered foothills and into the snowy mountains that surrounded the long valley floor. But for all her wandering, Darby was unsure what bothered her. The work she’d once tackled as a challenge now drowned her. Yet it was more than just her work. It seemed she’d become misplaced somehow, and if she didn’t find out what to do, soon only a shell of herself would be left.

Every night she stayed at the studio late and began to find her way through the mess Clarise had made. Darby decided she’d never leave Clarise in full charge for that long again. She could shine in public relations, advertising, and photo shoots, but her organizational skills were lost behind the bubbly smiles she gave their clients. The office was a mess. Orders lost in stacks. Phone calls left unanswered. Darby’s well-oiled machine had quickly turned to rust. As she sat in the late-night shadows, she thumbed through a stack of photos from the Redding holiday parade. She looked out the window and wondered how the streets of Salzburg appeared dressed for Christmas. What did tiny Hallstatt look like with snow covering the village and surrounding Alps? The night sky was her connection as she imagined snowflakes falling beneath those same stars, somewhere far away.

Back to work,
she told herself.
You’re home now. Leave it behind.

Darby ordered Chinese food and forced herself back to the reprint orders. Yet every photo brought thoughts of her trip, along with the questions she’d never found answers to. Finally she gave up for a while and carried the white carton of sweet-and-sour chicken to her computer. While in Austria, she’d often wished for the use of the Internet in her research. Now she tried to remember what she’d wanted to find.

Their studio office had connected to cyberspace when they’d opened two years earlier, and both Darby and Clarise had been hooked on the world inside the monitor. They chatted with pen pals and other photographers and surfed for quality equipment at good prices. Clarise even found a guy for Darby online, certain he was her perfect match like in the movie
You’ve Got Mail
. He turned out to be sixty years old. The fun of cyberspace slowly faded.

Darby logged on and tried to remember how many weeks or months had passed since she’d last checked her e-mail. She scanned the advertisements and photography E-news, surprised to see her grandmother’s pen name, “GramC,” in the in-box. Darby hesitated before clicking the button. The date on the e-mail was near the time of Darby’s trip to shoot the climbing club in the Trinity Alps. Seeing the words on the screen was like receiving words from beyond the grave.

Darby-girl,

Old granny is feeling better today so I made it to check e-mail, of course. Can’t wait to hear about your mountain adventure. I’m jealous, in a purely loving way. Be ready to tell me stories.

Love you with all my heart,

Gram C.

P.S. Need to talk to you about some things. Remember the Scripture I cross-stitched and have in my room? We’ll talk about it when you come down.

Darby peered at the screen. What Scripture? She remembered a cross-stitched picture in the room but not what it said. Most likely her grandmother believed Darby had read the note and the Scripture when she came down to visit her. Could this Scripture be a key to Grandma’s mystery—words that would have helped on her trip? Darby also hadn’t thought to examine her grandmother’s computer files. Grandma Celia had only purchased her computer six months before her death, but she’d worked on them at the library and taken courses for several years. Certainly she must have kept files on her search for the Lange inheritance.

Checking her watch, Darby decided not to scare her mother with a midnight phone call. But her mind tried and tried to recall the words of the picture. Darby rested her chin on her hand and read the words again. How strange to see Grandma’s note so alive, like any normal day.

After several minutes, she clicked the print button, then began to use search engines for information she’d wanted in Austria. The Web site “Find-A-People” allowed specific or general searches on names. Darby typed in a variety—Bruno Weiler, Hoffman for Tatianna’s family, Müller for her grandfather’s, and Lange for her grandmother’s family. Names appeared in discovery columns. No Bruno Weiler appeared, but many Mailers and Hoffmans. Not one looked like a good lead. She found Professor Peter Voss in Salzburg. The screen gave his address and phone number. Darby looked for her own name and found her address and phone number listed also. It was an eerie feeling to discover herself on the screen. Anyone could procure her address.

Darby joined a cyberlibrary and continued a search that would trace books, newspapers, magazine articles, and other documents. She typed and sifted through information, printing anything that could be good information. Her growing pile was transferred into a three-ring binder under different divisions—People, General Information, Mauthausen . . . Suddenly an old newspaper from the 1950s revealed the name Bruno Weiler.

“I found you.”

She printed the article as she read it. It reported a trial in the early fifties where five guards were indicted on charges of war crimes during the time they worked at Mauthausen and other camps. Bruno Weiler was one of them. They were all found guilty and sentenced to five years in a German prison. They would have been released in 1957.

Continuing to search, she found nothing more on Bruno Weiler but located a site named “Desperate Search.” It recorded people looking for missing family members, friends, or wartime buddies. It shocked Darby to see so many people looking for displaced and missing people as far back as World War II. She opened one of the files: “Where is my father?” It had facts and locations of a soldier in the United States Army who had married an Italian woman, then disappeared after the war, abandoning his wife and two children. One of the children had entered “desperately seeking.” She was in her fifties, but she still sought her father. Darby was tempted to return to “Find-A-People” and seek her own father, but knew she was far from ready to pursue those feelings.

Instead she added her own entry to the list: “Seeking Bruno Weiler. I am seeking information on a man named Bruno Weiler. He was an Austrian Nazi prison guard at Mauthausen Concentration Camp. Please send any information.”

Darby added searches for the Lange and Hoffman families. On impulse, she surfed to sites about coins and Empress Sissi. After an hour of looking, she began to get a picture of the value of her family inheritance and why it was so sought after by the Nazis. Anything belonging to Sissi became instantly valuable. The entire country of Austria had celebrated the one-hundredth anniversary of her death in 1998. Darby started searching for Celtic coins found in Hallstatt, but her eyes began to feel heavy. Finally she turned off the world within her computer and ate cold Chinese food alone. Then she headed toward her car and home. At a stoplight, she remembered a dark street—an escape from peopled routes—that she’d found in Salzburg, right in the middle of town. It was quiet and ancient, opening into a peaceful plaza surrounded by buildings. Until now she’d forgotten about that place. As she got ready for bed, more memories and questions sifted through her mind. Even as she slept, she dreamed of Austria.

As Darby blow-dried her hair the next morning, she still couldn’t shake her questions. She thought of Tatianna, then Bruno Weiler, then the Lange inheritance, wondering about her, what happened to him, and where the treasure was. As she later parked in the lot, late for work, another question arose. Was she just convincing herself that she needed to put Austria behind her? Yet she felt it inside—not the dying slowly, but a hopeful excitement. Maybe she needed that to get her through this late-twenties crisis or whatever she was dealing with. Her logical side reminded her that her future was in the States, right at this studio.

Clarise met her at the studio door.

“Oh, Darby!” Clarise yanked her partner in so fast that the permed auburn hair almost whipped off her head. “I have the best news in the entire world. Guess what?”

“What?”

“No, guess!”

“I don’t know . . . you won the lottery, you’re pregnant, you have a date with Brad Pitt and Markus said you could go? I don’t know, but those would be your favorite things to happen.”

“You’re crazy, girl. All wrong, though very good ideas. But you’ll be so excited!” Clarise jumped up and down like she
had
just won the lottery. “Creative Designs Photography is closing down, and Scott offered us first opportunity to buy their clientele list, equipment, and, yes, even their shop!”

“Really? Why are they closing?”

“Scott is retiring, and no one in his family is interested in the shop. He’s offering a great deal, told me that since I used to work there, he wanted to give me first shot. This is a perfect opportunity. We’d have the chance to be the top studio north of Sacramento. We’ll have to hire more people, of course, but—”

“Slow down. I need some more facts. I need time to consider.”

Clarise stopped, and her hands dropped to her sides. “Aren’t you excited about this?”

“I don’t know. I think so, but I need a moment for it to sink in before I invest my life away.”

“Darby, it’s exactly what we’ve dreamed of.”

Yes
, she thought,
but is it what I’m dreaming of now?
“Let’s get the details, then let’s talk,” Darby said.

“I’ll do that,” Clarise said as she stormed out of the room.

Clarise stayed on the phone most of the day until Darby was sure she couldn’t take her partner’s screech of excitement one more time. At last she couldn’t and escaped to the movies alone, something she’d never done before. But a super-sized Coke, Reese’s peanut butter cups, and buttery popcorn, along with a romantic comedy made her feel worse than when she’d arrived. The couple on the screen was gooey and lovey for the second half of the flick. What could be sadder than a single person watching a romantic comedy alone? Darby found out when she ran into someone she knew—her old boyfriend, Derek Hunt, and his gorgeous wife.

“You’re back!” Derek called across the lobby while she was trying to sneak off unseen. He ran and hugged her. “Tell me about the trip. I couldn’t believe it when I called the studio and Clarise said you were in Europe!”

Darby pulled away and smiled. Derek hadn’t changed, except his thick sandy hair might have receded slightly, and his well-defined features appeared more mature. Derek’s wife, Rochella, walked up slowly and smiled, but she didn’t appear thrilled to see her husband’s ex-girlfriend. Long, perfect hair framed her model face, and Darby instantly felt grungy in her jeans, T-shirt, and greasy hands from too much butter.

“I’ve been back a few weeks,” she said, wiping her chin. “You called the studio?”

“Yeah, we wanted more copies of our family portrait for Christmas cards. But tell me everything. Where did you go, what were you doing there? Was it just like you imagined it to be?”

“There’s a lot to tell. It’s beautiful and amazing—you both should go there someday. Get matching bikes and see the countryside.”

“Rochella doesn’t ride.” Derek glanced at his wife. “But I still want to go someday.”

“You should. . . . Well, I better get going.” She made a gesture that hopefully looked like she was meeting someone.

“Oh, yeah, of course. Hey, let’s meet next week for lunch and catch up. I want to see your photos, which I know you’ve had developed since the day you got home.”

Darby didn’t tell him she hadn’t taken any pictures. Clarise had been too busy to ask, her mother probably didn’t want to see them. Everyone else she’d brushed off with a change of subject.

“See you later,” Darby said. “Bye, Rochella.” She waved and hurried away, making a detour to the bathroom. Waiting a sufficient time, Darby finally hurried through the parking lot, only to get a honk and wave from Derek and Rochella. They definitely knew she was alone now. Next time she’d watch a video at home—if she could get rid of Julie’s weekend friends.

Darby was surprised when Derek walked into the studio the next day.

“Rochella asked me to pick up our reprints. And since I’m here, I’m taking you to lunch.”

“I’m swamped with last-minute projects. Sorry,” she said, glad to have an excuse. Little could be worse than lunch with Rochella and Derek. “Half of Redding had the idea to give old, reconditioned photographs as Christmas presents this year. And it was a last-minute idea too.”

“You know, that old photo idea is good, and I still have a few presents to get. Maybe . . .”

“Forget it, Derek. Your parents always like the Hickory Farms packages anyway.”

“Very true. Sure you don’t want to grab some lunch just you and me? Come on.”

Just then, Darby heard Clarise on the phone down the hall. “Yes, we can even buy the studio,” she said with a shriek of excitement for effect.

“I’ll go.”

They sat across from each other on red velvet cushions in the dungeon-dark Italian restaurant. Neither spoke for a moment. Darby squirmed while Derek stared her straight in the face and wondered why she’d come. They’d dated from the end of their senior year of high school through three years of college. They’d remained friends afterward, both saying they’d probably get back together after college. They wanted the last year to play and date and enjoy one more year before entering the “real” world. Then Rochella entered the picture. Derek had been under a spell with the idea that a woman of class and beauty would be attracted to him. He was from a small town; she vacationed in the Caribbean. Darby and Derek’s friendship drifted quickly after that, and Darby had realized how much she loved him. It took a long time to release the idea that they were meant to be together again.

At Derek’s wedding, she’d met Clarise, who was a friend of a friend of Rochella’s. That’s where the studio idea began. Clarise’s family lived in Redding and since she had the most financial backing, they’d settled the partnership there. A year later, when Derek’s job transferred him to Redding, he looked Darby up. But besides their family portrait with what seemed like an added child every year, she rarely saw Derek or Rochella. Now she sat across from him, wondering what to say.