Double Concerto - 7. Tafelmusik

Rick's neck chafed with discomfort as he tried to adjust the collar of his dress shirt. He felt hot, overdressed, and way out of his league.

"I just love coming here, don't you, Ricky?" Rita McKee smiled at him from across the table.

"Um, sure, I guess so," he agreed.

Rita's surprise date had been to drive the pair of them to The Meadowview Inn, out past the west side of Eagle Lake. Rick did not want to tell her he had never been to The Meadowview as a paying customer. His experience at The Meadowview was limited to the dish room hot water feed line, the commercial dishwasher installation, and the grease trap.

At least I didn’t have to ride all the way to Madison for this.

"Such a nice view from the bay window," Rita commented.

"It's very, um…pretty."

"Do you know much about the history of this place?"

Rick didn't think Rita wanted a rundown of the aging plumbing in the rambling structure. "Not really."

"Well, I understand the Ansbacher family bought it from the original owners back in the nineteen fifties. It was a working farm right up until then." Rita made it sound as if this was exciting news. Perhaps the sight of working farms around Eagle Lake had escaped her.

The Ansbachers did their best to preserve the aura of the old farm. It was the restaurant’s theme, and they made the most of it, from rustic table trimmings to wide and irregular floorboards. The place pretended to be a farm, but Rick knew Brenda Ansbacher hadn't done farm work a day in her life.

"But they worked tirelessly to bring gourmet farm cuisine to the table, right from the beginning," she went on.

"Mmm. Yeah."

Rita inhaled deeply and smiled. "Ahhhh. The real farm kitchen experience. Nothing like it."

The current reminder of the farm came from the gingham-frocked waitresses serving in the dining room. The field outside the window would have been cut at least a week earlier, if the place were still being farmed. Rick looked around the restaurant. He saw a variety of well-off summer visitors to Eagle Lake, dressed in country club casual attire – polo shirts and jackets, khaki trousers, even dress shorts here and there. He fingered his crisp white shirt and dark tie again. Rick’s suit jacket felt too tight, and his head felt heavy and slow. He’d had no sleep in a day and a half, and a late afternoon coffee did little to help clear his brain.

"They've done a good job with this place," he allowed.

"Haven't they? It must be a gold mine." Rita's eyes glittered.

"I guess so." Rick knew the Ansbachers had sunk a lot of the earnings from the restaurant into caring for their developmentally disabled twins. Not that he was going to tell Rita.

"You know the owners?"

"Brenda and Chris? Sure. Good people."

"Third generation, right?" Rita eyed the table settings and her surroundings critically. "Solid, wholesome American value. Understated quality. That's the tone, here."

"They put their money in the right places."

"Still, with greater demand, and a different clientele, they might do some updating."

They were interrupted. "Hi, I'm Emily, and I'll be taking care of you tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?"

Rita hesitated over her order. "A gin and tonic, Ricky? Or maybe a bottle of Chardonnay?"

Rick thought he recognized the pink-cheeked girl waiting on them. He tried to place her exactly. "What was that?" He came back to the moment.

"I asked what we should drink."

Rick looked a bit blank. He thought about asking if they had anything better than Rhinelander on tap, but Rita cut off that line of thinking. "Oh, never mind, we'll have a bottle of the Kendall-Jackson."

If Rick felt irked by this turn of events, Rita failed to notice it. She prattled on. "This place is good, I'll grant you that, but it's like the whole town."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just so complacent, Ricky. So satisfied with itself. There's no striving. That's what we have to change."

"I'm sorry, but that doesn't make…"

"Don't you see it? The Chamber of Commerce is perfectly happy to keep up its little club of longtime businesses. It's just a bit too chummy. Where's the drive to expand? Where's the impetus to compete, to develop?"

"Eagle Lake works pretty hard at keeping up-to-date," Rick put in, stung into defending his hometown.

"Oh, really? Come on, Ricky. The Tourism Council hasn't changed its advertising in fifteen years. They still put out a pamphlet, for heaven's sake."

"We still get plenty of…"

"It's about marketing and being in front of the eyes that handle the dollars. Eagle Lake needs a tourism website, with interactive links to attractions and businesses. Where is the region’s social media presence? Who’s making that happen? Nobody. Coordination and money get Eagle Lake mentioned first on search engines. It means making Eagle Lake into a name destination, not just a summer vacation backwater."

"This isn't a backwater."

"Of course it's a backwater, Ricky. I'll admit that it's not in the middle of absolute nowhere, but it's close. What this town desperately needs is to attract the real money – people from the Twin Cities and the North Shore of Chicago; people from St. Louis or maybe Texas; New York, even. This place is just full of the same-old, same-old."

Emily returned with the bottle of wine at that moment, ending Rita's rant, at least for a while. Rick watched her set down glasses and deftly manage the corkscrew. The girl poured a little into his glass and looked at Rick expectantly.

Rick returned a puzzled glance. Was that all she was going to pour?

"She's waiting for you to taste it,” Rita hissed.

Both Rick and the girl flushed in embarrassment. "Oh, right." Rick took a sip.

"Is it all right, sir?"

"Okay, I guess," Rick allowed.

"It had better be," Rita put in.

The waitress smiled at Rick and filled both glasses. "Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?"

"Are the mussels fresh? Because if they're fresh, I'll have some of those for an appetizer, but if they're not, then I'll have the crab cakes. And for my main course Macadamia Sea Bass, but could I substitute some scalloped potatoes for the rice? And I'll have the house salad and dressing on the side, but hold the onions." Rita closed her menu with a snap.

Rick hadn't even looked at his. "Um, I'll have the pot pie, please." He knew the Meadowview's pot pie had a great reputation; lots of people around town said so.

"Really, Rick? The pot pie? You could have anything – lobster tails, steak, whatever you like – and you order pot pie?"

"That's what I want," he said. He felt stubborn, like he was in one of his unfortunate discussions with his father. The kind that always ended badly.

"Soup or salad?" The waitress ignored the tension, as a professional would.

Rick flipped open his menu again. "Right. Let me see. I'll have a Lake Country Salad. With the cheddar cheese." He smiled back up at the waitress. "You're Phil Braun's daughter, right?"

The girl blushed. "Yes, sir. He's my dad."

"I did some work at your house a couple of years ago. New hot water tank, I think."

"Oh. Wait. You’re the plumber guy?"

"Yup. You say hi to your dad and mom for me, okay?"

"Yes, sir. I will."

The waitress retreated.

"I have to give you credit, Ricky. How did you remember that girl?"

"It just happens. I know people, that's all."

"Yes. I noticed that. What does her father do?"

"Works out at Northwoods Lumber Mills. Assistant Manager. His wife Marie is a receptionist at Waldseemuller Dental. Nice people."

Rita smiled. "There are advantages to living in a small town like Eagle Lake. You can know everyone. And everyone knows you."

"Well, that cuts both ways. You're right. I've gotten to know most folks around here." He frowned. "But it also means your business is open to everyone else. Not that people are really nosy, just that not a lot is private."

"Oh, I know what you mean, Ricky. It's not an easy town to keep secrets in."

Rick shifted in his seat and looked away.

"But that's one of those things we can change, don't you think?"

"I'm not following you."

"Don't you think Eagle Lake needs to grow? Needs to be a little less wrapped up in itself? Growth means new people, new opportunities, and maybe fewer noses stuck in their neighbors' business."

"You mean it will be less personal?"

"Exactly. Definitely a different crowd, and maybe more business friendly."

Rick blinked. "Well, I don't know…"

"I'm not saying the town needs to turn itself into the miracle mile or something. But wouldn't it be nice to attract the kinds of businesses you have to drive hours for right now?"

He maintained a noncommittal silence.

"And wouldn't some new faces and some different people be good for your business and mine?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. We get a lot of new people…"

"Seasonal people, Ricky." Rita cut him off. "Vacation types. I'm talking about getting people to stay longer, maybe even live here year 'round."

Rick considered. Even if it was Rita making the point, he had to admit she might be on to something. And maybe a little growth might bring someone – a new friend – into town. "What's going to make that happen? There's not much going on here except tourism and timber – maybe a few farms."

"Timber? Pfft. That industry is on its last legs. Oh, I admit, there are some big players left, but their markets are declining.”

They were interrupted by the arrival of Rita’s appetizer and Rick’s salad.

“I’ve brought you the mussels.” Emily stated with a well-practiced smile as she placed plates before her customers. “The chef said they were fresh.”

“So, what houses were you selling today?” Rick attempted a diversionary question.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it …” His tablemate launched into a spirited discussion of her latest showings, the people interested, and the prospects for quick sales.

Rick made short work of his salad while half-listening to her increasingly animated recollection of the day. He nodded now and then, and responded when necessary, but Rita seemed to have no trouble carrying the weight of the conversation.

“… and the market is basically shrinking, don’t you agree?”

“Hmmm?” Rick looked up.

“Well, it’s not exactly growing by leaps and bounds up here, is it?” Rita poured herself another glass of wine.

“But you’re doing all right. You’ve got enough business.”

“Oh, Ricky, enough isn’t enough. Expansion is the key –"

Once again, they were interrupted by Emily, this time bearing full plates and main courses. The food smelled and looked wonderful, and it had the effect of altering the flow of discussion, at least for a while.

"How's your fish?" Rick asked, once the plates were set down and initial bites taken. It was only polite.

"Good. Very good," admitted Rita. She held up a piece of sea bass and examined it with a critical eye. "It's not as good as Selene's in Madison, but not bad at all." She took another bite. "I can't believe you ordered that."

He broke apart some flaky, perfectly browned crust. Scents of fragrant herbs and fresh vegetables filled his nostrils. "Looks pretty good to me."

"Ugh. I can see I'm going to have to educate you."

Rick didn't need to look up to see Rita smirking. "That's okay. I'm fine."

"But don't you see? This is just what I've been saying. You're all too comfortable with yourselves…" Rita reached for the bottle, only to find it already almost empty.

Rick winced. His own glass hadn't been drained once, yet.

"What exactly do you want to do about it, Rita?"

She smiled a secret kind of smile. "I have a plan, one that’s going to revolutionize everything. The whole north country will change."

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. We’re on the threshold of historic opportunity up here.”

Rick schooled his features and waited.

“Don’t you see, Ricky, the whole economic paradigm in this part of the state has been about resource extraction? Iron Ore, timber, farming – it’s all about wringing as much out of the land as possible. But Americans are changing, and we have to change too. Our enterprises have to extract not just more, but different if we’re going to grow.”

"Different how? What are you planning?"

Rita drained the last of the wine from her glass. “I’m not quite ready to unveil it yet.”

Rick frowned.

“I’ve had this kind of conversation with several members of the Eagle Lake Good-Old-Boy Chamber of Commerce. It’s slow going, but a few heads are turning. And you can help, if we work together.” She held her hand against her clavicle and paused.

“I can help? How?”

“Help mold opinion. Change minds. Bring them into the twenty first century.”

“Why me?”

“Ricky, Ricky, you’re perfect.”

“Ummm –"

"You're honest, you do good work, and you're from an old-time Eagle Lake family. You're one of them." She waved again in Emily's direction. She pointed at the bottle.

"Unlike you."

"Unlike me. Exactly. I don't have the entrée to the old boy network in town. But you do."

"So what? I don't run my own business. Not really. My father is still the owner; he tries to run things by remote control from Arizona."

A new bottle of wine arrived and got opened. Emily was efficient, anyway. Rita had a refilled glass in a moment.

"See what I'm talking about? Those old boys have been holding up progress in this town for decades."

"Well, I'm not so sure about…"

"Let me tell you, Ricky, it's hard trying to plan and push and try to pry open closed minds. When I was in Scilla Bay, the Village Board simply would not listen to my ideas. Not once."

"Is that right?" Rick worked on his pot pie some more. Scilla Bay? That's up in the peninsula…

Rita drained half her glass. "When they turned their backs on me, I got out, moved to Madison, and made a pile of money. Now I want to show those old boys where they can stick it. It's time for…"

Soon, she was in full cry again. The wine lubricated her vocal powers, and Rita seemed to need no commentary from him. He attempted to tune her out as much as he could, while still being polite.

His gaze strayed across the room. Rick blinked.

He recognized some of the people seated several tables away. The girl, from Cedarcrest – what was her name? Marta, that was it. The girl who liked mechanical stuff. And her mother, Magda. Magda Takács. The little boy was there, too, picking at some bread. And with them sat a woman, rail-thin and raven haired, with eyes that flashed as she chattered on about something or other.

Who was she? A relative? An older sibling to the children? Rick thought not.

He caught motion at the corner of his eye. A tall man, balding with an iron grey fringe of hair and an eagle's beak of a nose was leading another person toward the Takács table. The piano teacher.

Rick's heart sped up. It was unavoidable.

Dressed in a bright colored, square-cut shirt, the teacher moved with an easy grace beside the taller gentleman.

Hell, forty-eight hours later, and he's still beautiful. His eyes tracked the man’s movement across the restaurant.

The black-haired woman suddenly noticed the arrival of the two men. A bright, brittle smile appeared on her face; she rose and came around the table to embrace the pianist. There was something possessive in that clasp, Rick thought. The cast on the man's arm made the embrace more than a little awkward; he grimaced. The woman grabbed onto the good hand as they moved to their table.

A deep hole appeared at the bottom of Rick's stomach. His food suddenly seemed to lose its flavor.

"…wouldn’t you say?" Rick realized Rita had been speaking.

He tore his eyes away from watching the pair seat themselves. "Um, I guess so. Maybe."

"Of course you do. You know it, and I know it."

Rick tried to catch up with whatever Rita had been saying. "Right. Sure. But…"

"Well, like I said, I'm planning to do something about it, and you're just the man to help."

"So you told me.”

“Don't be modest. You're just the man I need for this project."

Project? What project? "Now, hold on. What…"

"No, really, you're flawless. Let me go over this again. I've identified a possible seller for a very large parcel of land. I'm not going to tell you where, not yet. But it's got incredible potential; it's unique – nothing like it anywhere in this area. I can subdivide it and develop it – and I know the prime lots will go quick and high. After that, there will be plenty of building to do, and of course, sales and re-sales."

Rick nodded. There were a couple of five and ten-acre tracts still open on the upper part of Eagle Lake. Rita was probably looking at one of those, not that such a thing would fulfill her overblown expectations.

"The thing is, Ricky, I don’t have local knowledge like you do. You're part of the old-boy network. Everyone knows you. You'll do the plumbing subcontracting for the houses and lots. That means quality right there. But behind the scenes, Ricky, you’re friends with everyone who matters in this town. If you're involved…"

"Oh, no. Hold it right there." Rick held up a hand. "I'm not gonna be part of anything shady."

"Who said anything about that? It's all going to look above board, Ricky. That's my point. If you’re involved, people will know this project is good for the town, good for them, good for everyone. This is going to be a big deal – Eagle Lake won't be the same sleepy backwater after this. This is going to put this town on the map."

"I don't…"

"And anyway," Rita went on, "the rest of the Ernst family in the business won't want to pass up this golden opportunity."

Rick swallowed. Damn her. She had to bring the old man into it. "We have plenty of business as it is."

"Oh, come on, Ricky. Here's a chance to expand, to earn enough money to really make Ernst Plumbing and Heating the biggest name in the North Country. You can give up doing piddling little repairs and actually manage."

"But I like doing visits for customers. That's why we have Irene." That, and so she can report back to the old man on everything I do.

"I'm just saying that there's so much to this project that you can't afford to miss out. The whole town will be better off."

Rick made a face. "I'm not against development, Rita. It's just that …this all seems pretty vague right now. I'm not sure a few new houses are going to…"

"This is more than just a few houses, Ricky, believe me. When I said big, I mean really big."

Rick let out a long breath. He was tired of the hard sell. "I'm going to find the men's room." He stood.

He tried very hard not to glance in the direction of the Takács family as he threaded his way to the back of the dining area. In a space where one room connected to another, he found the lavatory. Rick pushed open the door, quaintly marked Roosters in faux gothic lettering.

Rick sighed and washed his hands after doing his business. He looked at the mirror and shook his head. His mind rang with internal dialogue. How did I manage to get into this fix? If I say 'yes' to whatever Rita has in mind, I'll have more work than I'll ever get done in a month of Sundays. I won't sleep. If I say 'no,' Dad will scream bloody murder – all he'll see are the dollar signs. Trudy will push him hard on that, too. What the hell am I going to do?

He watched himself blink in the mirror. Not a damn thing. Rita McKee's just blowing smoke. Just keep my head down and wait for it to blow over. Like I always do.

Satisfied with his resolution, Rick dried his hands and made for the door.

In the same instant he pulled, someone outside the washroom door pushed. Surprised and off-balance, the Cedarcrest piano teacher stumbled and fell into the space, bumping hard into Rick on the way down.

“Are you okay?” Rick asked, squatting to help. “You’re not hurt?” It took Rick a second to focus on a pair of startled brown eyes in a honey colored face.

In a moment those features creased into a smile. “I think I’m all right.” The voice, clear and gentle, possessed maybe a trace of an accent.

“Let me help you up.”

“You’re very kind.”

Assisting the shorter man to stand cleared Rick’s head; his weariness vanished. For a moment, speech failed him. "I’m so sorry." He managed to stammer. "It's…it's my fault. There’s no damage, is there?" Rick looked at the bright blue cast on the forearm.

The pianist smiled at Rick. "I'm fine. No harm done."

Flustered, Rick stepped aside, opening the door. "Oh. Good. Right – sorry, I'm in the way."

"No problem. Thanks." The smile remained, even as the door closed.

Whatever Rita said for the remainder of the evening was lost. Rick had other things to dream about.