When Jane showed her letter to John, she couldn’t understand why he frowned, asked if she planned to answer it and, when she said she intended to, told her it would be better if she didn’t—for her not to get involved. Having shown her husband Eugenie’s letter in order to share it with him, not be given advice on her subsequent action concerning it, Jane put it away—until she could find the time to write a nice long reply and when Rumpelstiltskin returned, she planned to ask him that should he ever be passing through the Carolinas to please stop off in Charleston to pay Eugenie a visit, for, judging by her letter, she surely was one who lounged.
Through its frosted windows, the Geiger boardinghouse had that special holiday glow. Despite the absence of most of her Boys, Hannah bustled about preparing for her Hanukah-Christmas celebration. It wouldn’t be too lonely, for Johann with his family, Rudy with his wife had promised to come over for Christmas Eve, and of course, John and Jane with their Michael would be coming. Even Ebbely might return in time to join in the festivities, for he too had promised.
John and Jane shielding Michael wrapped in many shawls, plowed their way through the snow to the Geiger house. Hannah, watching for them, flung open the door as they reached the front porch.
“Quick! Unwrap! De others here already. Ebbely too. Wait till you see de big surprise I got! A wonder! Never in all de days of my life I ever dream to have such a present! Quick!” She pulled them towards the parlor. “Come! See what my Fritz give me!” And there, against the parlor wall, it stood in all its splendor. Rumpelstiltskin spun its stool, sat, placed his little feet on the pedals and, reaching up to the keyboard, launched into a clarion rendition of “Take Me Back to Ol’ Virgini.”
“An upright! How marvelous! Fritz, you old devil, you never told me you were getting one!” John exclaimed.
Beaming, Fritz took him aside, “Got it on time. But don’t tell Hannah. You know how she is about owing. Great, eh? It’s a Windsor. Came complete with stool and piano shawl. The keys are real ivory, but the rosewood casing … that’s imitation.”
“How much?” whispered John.
“One hundred and seventy!”
“Jesus!”
“It’s forever! Don’t tell your Jane—you know how those two are together, like sisters.”
Rumpelstiltskin finished with a thundering flourish, spun himself up like a top, jumped off in mid-rotation, held out his arms for Michael, who, recognizing him, shrieked with delight. Hannah ran her hand over the shining surface of her treasure as though still not convinced it actually stood in her parlor, and wouldn’t vanish in a puff of a conjurer’s smoke.
“Hannah, it’s magnificent! Now we will have music for Christmas.” Jane wished she knew how to play.
“Ebbely says he knows all de carols, even de latest hits, also dat Mr. Stephen Foster and de new ‘Naughty Marietta’ one, like de bands play in de park in summertime. Wish de others were here …” Getting sad she turned, went out to fetch the frosted gingerbread and cider.
Stan’s unexpected arrival was probably the highlight of this already most special evening. When a mighty honk reverberated down the silent snowbanked street, followed by putt, puff, groan and rattle—and something came to a halt before the Geiger house; despite the cold, everyone ran outside to have a look, see the cause of such a ruckus and there, by the side of his very own, still trembling Lizzie, stood a grinning Stan.
“Ach, Mein Gott! My Stan! Ebbely, look! Now you no longer Lizzie owner unique!” Hannah was hugging the proud owner of motor splendor.
“A Touring, no less! My, my!” Fritz was impressed.
“Stan, you son of a gun! You kept this a secret! She’s a beauty!” John was running his hand along the fender, like a caress, brushing off a dusting of snow.
No one feeling the cold—everyone just stood and stared, rooted in admiration, until Stan pointed to the inner darkness of his automobile, laughing, exclaimed, “Look! Look, I brought presents!” And from out of the shadow of the back seat appeared the smiling faces of Carl, Peter, and Zoltan.
Hannah screamed, “MY BOYS! … But, de girls? Where?”
“With their families. We said tomorrow we are yours but on Christmas Eve—we are HANNAH’s. Zoltan, we just kidnapped from his mother!”
“Come, come quick inside—get cozy. Enough cider and de gingerbread I got. I was hoping …”
So they were reunited, vowed the little tree was even better than the one of last year, admired the splendid piano, sang carols, drank a toast to Jimmy with Fritz’s special Schnapps, settled themselves into their waiting chairs, watched the flickering candles and were home again. Fritz held Hannah on his lap, let her bury her face in his shoulder knowing she would cry. Michael, having enjoyed his first Christmas tremendously, cherub mouth smeared with the soggy remains of a gingerbread boy, slept in his wash basket between the menorah and the little tree, the picture of contentment.
Across the sea, battlefields lay silent. In the trenches, exhausted men on both sides rested on their guns, for a moment of suspended time, celebrating peace on Earth.
Not having been a disruptive presence during Christmas, Heinz-Hermann made up for it on the skating pond New Year’s Day. Racing about bumping people, interfering as Rudy was trying to steady Frederika, spinning Johann’s girls, until Hedwig, the youngest, threw up her breakfast. After that, Fritz ordered him off the ice, told him to go home!
Rumpelstiltskin, steering Jane in a careful waltz, his head just reaching her waist, looked up at her—a frown wrinkling his elfin face.
“That will have to stop. This can’t go on!”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I know I am clumsy …”
“No, dear girl. You are doing splendidly! I meant that Luciferian nephew!”
“Heinz-Hermann?” Jane laughed.
“You see? You knew immediately who I meant!”
“Well, yes …” Jane was slightly ashamed that she had. “… but, that is a little exaggerated, don’t you think?”
Rumpelstiltskin swung her around, making her skate backwards.
“Please! Ebbely! I can’t see where I’m going!”
“Keep loose! Glide! I am in perfect control!” Pushing her in front of him like a wheelbarrow, the little man stretched a leg out behind him, skating on the other like a ballerina in Swan Lake.
Needing all of her concentration to keep the back of her skates from catching in her skirts, Jane had no time to appreciate the elegance of her partner’s arabesque. Coming down to earth, both feet back on the ice, Rumpelstiltskin picked up his train of thought where he had left it hanging.
“Yes, that nephew must go … before he causes irrevocable damage to the superb equilibrium of Hannah’s house. Don’t you agree, Missus Jane?”
“I must admit I haven’t given this much thought,” replied his dancing partner, slightly out of breath.
“Well—think on it! Hannah needs our help on this, of that I am convinced! … AH! Here we are!” He slid to a halt by the bench. “And husband with babe awaits! Dear Lady …” Ebbely bowed, “… thank you for the dance. A winter memory to treasure. John, most kind of you to lend me your bride. Now, take her into your arms and go! The surface is divine today!” And, tipping his derby, Rumpelstiltskin was off—skates dug in, running upon the ice on tippytoes.
“Ninnie, you want to keep going?”
“Not if you’ve had enough.”
John began unlacing his skates. Disappointed, Jane started to do the same.
“What were you two talking about?”