The Midas Kiss

By Harvey Heimann

The 1890s. The United States is suffering the worst economic depression in its history. A factory job would pay one dollar for a ten hour day, if one was lucky enough to find one. Seeking salvation, the country goes on a monetary gold standard. Tens of thousands of men are caught up in a national hysteria - the search for gold. Marie, rebellious daughter of a noveau riche, domineering mother, and Jon, charismatic son of moderate means immigrants meet. Both facing a predestined, circumscribed life neither wants. They marry and begin their quest for independence and freedom they both cherish. Drawn into the gold seeking frenzy, they find that while the supply of gold is limited, the desire of humans for gold and what they will do to obtain it, is unlimited. Their search, with periods of elation and despair, never waivers and they hold fast to their dream of receiving The Midas Kiss.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harvey Heimann
• Release date: Apr 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310515095

Harvey Heimann

Following his service in both the U.S. Navy and as a U.S. Army Officer, Harvey Heimann pursued a career in the ethical pharmaceutical industry, including sales and marketing management. After retiring from the large multi-national corporate life, he started his own company which focused on medical peer discussion groups, where he served as a medical moderator. Harvey and his wife, Jean, spend six months a year at their home in Florida and six months traveling North America. Drawing upon their vast experience and extensive research, they have written numerous articles for various major travel and RV publications.

Book preview

Prologue

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. With all due respect to Charles Dickens, his words could well describe a different time.

Arguably, the 1890s were one of the most tumultuous and most fascinating decades of the world, and particularly in the United States.

Queen Victoria celebrated her golden Jubilee at the same time the decline of the Victorian era was rapidly accelerating. Social and economic constraints were giving way to the assertion of individual freedom.

It was a decade of scientific and industrial discoveries that would impact and define the world we live in today.

Henry Ford built his first car. The Curies discovered radium. Edison brought forth the first practical electric light. From the internal combustion engine to the clothing zipper, a multitude of new inventions made their appearance.

A new world in communications emerged. The magnetic recording of sound was introduced. Marconi invented radio telegraphy. Long distance telephone, New York to Boston, was inaugurated. Lumiere gave us the first motion picture camera, which caused some shock and dismay in some levels of society, as the audience was allowed to see the bare ankle of Carmencita performing her Butterfly Dances for most of the fifty-foot reel.

Our leisure time was impacted. Slot machines were unveiled. The Ferris wheel, harbinger of carnival and theme park rides, brought forth the thrilled riders. The first professional football game played in Latrobe, Pennsylvania, established a Sunday afternoon ritual for many.

Our dietary lifestyle was altered with the introduction of the Automat concept. Patrons called them conscience joints being on their honor to total up their own bills. The first breakfast cereal, Cream of Wheat, opened a new concept of breakfast. Hershey developed a chocolate product in the shape of a rectangle slab. The candy bar.

It was also a decade of profound economic upheaval. The Panic of 1893 caused the worst depression in the history of the United States. Thousands of businesses went bankrupt. Tens of thousands moved from the farms to the cities in search of work.

Disasters of a magnitude previously not seen in the world occurred. A global influenza epidemic killed tens of thousands of people. Over 10,000 Japanese were killed by a single earthquake.

Nationally, Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders stormed San Juan Hill to end the Spanish American War, marking the beginning of the United States expansion of the sphere of influence across the globe.

Our monetary exchange from the silver standard to the gold standard heightened the westward migration as gold euphoria swept the nation. The world’s last great adventure, the Klondike Gold Rush, started and ended. The driving force of the Rush was little different than the raison d’etre for various powers throughout history. To reap the gold that their conquest would yield. England and the devastation of its worldwide colonies. Spain ravishing the wealth of the New World. Roman legions raising their eagle standards as they marched through Europe, Asia Minor, and Northern Africa. All with a common goal. All seeking gold.

St. Louis

Chapter 1

Marie stared idly at the alley that passed by the carriage house in the corner of her expansive backyard. The brownish colored dirt of the rutted alley contrasted sharply with the springtime bright green, newly emerged leaves on the bordering trees.

She sat in her favorite spot in the house. The bay window seat in the morning room. From this vantage point, she had a sweeping view of her Lafayette Park, which was so close as to seem to be a continuation of her own backyard.

Unconsciously, she folded her body in a fetal-like position, clasping her knees with folded arms bringing them close to her chest. Although the early morning sun shone directly on her, she still felt a chill. By clutching her body so tightly, she, at least psychologically, experienced a more comforting warmth.

The large center pane of the window, facing her, was opened several inches, allowing just enough breeze to stir the lacy, white curtains that highlighted the window.

Marie was alone in the house. Certainly not frightening for an eighteen-year old girl, but for her, somewhat unusual. Normally, her mother and sister would be home on Saturday mornings. And it was routine for Elfie to be in the kitchen or somewhere in the two-story house, cleaning the two floors of the house.

Today was different, however. And as her mother had repeatedly reminded Marie, a very special and important day. A dinner party was planned for the evening, and her mother, with her sister, Jeanne, in tow, had gone on a last-minute shopping trip for some must-have accoutrements. Jeanne’s fiancé, John Randolph Foster, and his parents would be guests at the dinner, as well as one of their father’s most important business acquaintances.

Elfie had gone to Soulard Farmer’s Market to obtain the freshest vegetables for the dinner. Her husband, Raymond, had taken her in one of the family’s carriages. Elfie, a wonderful cook, and Raymond, who tended the horses and carriages, the garden, the minor repair and just about anything in the house that needed doing, had been with the Bernhardt family for many years. Up to a certain, and very well-defined limit, they were considered a part of the family.

Saturday was one of the two days of the week that the ice company made deliveries to the Bernhardt residence. As everyone else would be away, Marie had been asked to ensure that the extra ice needed for the party would be available.

Although Elfie had told Marie that the iceman usually came about mid-morning, she wasn’t about to take any chance of missing him. Her mother had so often voiced her opinion about Marie’s lack of acceptance of responsibility; she just didn’t want to hear another lecture on that subject. She vowed not to be again guilty of insouciance.

As she waited, her thoughts shifted from introspection to critical self-assessment.

Here I am. Marie DeRoche Bernhardt. Eighteen-years old. In one month, I will graduate from Sutherland Academy. Class of 1892. Supposedly, I will have acquired all the necessary academic knowledge for a successful transition to St. Louis University. And just as important, according to my mother, I will know all a proper young lady should know. Proper social graces. Proper decorum. Proper etiquette. Proper this. Proper that.

And, worse, mother has repeatedly assured me that she will find the proper, socially acceptable young man for me to marry, as she did for my sister, Jeanne.

Marie hated to think of it, but the unpleasant scenario kept reoccurring. Each time it did, she became upset with herself. Her stomach involuntarily churned. She spoke to herself, Is this the life I must face? I don’t want it! The future has to hold something better for me. I know I must honor my mother’s wishes, but not obsequiously.

The clip-clop of horses’ hoofs broke her reverie.

Slowly, down the side alley that separated her house from Lafayette Park, a wagon, drawn by a solitary dapple grey draft horse, made its way. On the side of the wagon, bold, black, hand-painted letters proudly announced DUSEK AND SONS, and beneath that, ICE AND COAL COMPANY. Two men were briskly engaged in conversation. One, the non-driver, was finger pointing, obviously giving directions to the other.

Marie jumped off the window seat, scurried down the hallway, through the kitchen, out the back porch, and over the backyard lawn and was at the carriage house to greet them.

She arrived just as the wagon turned the corner onto the back alley at the rear of the carriage house. Somewhat awkwardly, she rushed her words, I didn’t want to miss you. We will be needing extra ice today.

As she spoke, she studied the two men. Both seemed to be in their late teens or early twenties.

One, the driver, was a giant of a person. Tall, with bulging biceps that were tight against his short shirt sleeves. His face was rough, as if chiseled from rock. A homely face, but tempered by a good-natured smile. He nodded in response to Marie’s observation.

The other, smiled broadly as he gingerly jumped off from the seat of the wagon and into the dust of the alley. He volunteered, We’ve got all the ice you might ever need. My name is Jon and this is my brother Vlad. Any idea about how much you’ll be needing?

Marie’s mind was a jumble of thoughts. Hearing but not really listening to Jon’s question. She suddenly realized she had been staring at him. Her initial reaction was, This is one of the most handsome men I’ve ever met.

And indeed he was. Tall and lean, with broad shoulders and muscular frame, he was the perfect picture of masculine vitality. His captivating smile revealed even, white teeth that contrasted sharply with a face tanned by many hours in the springtime sun. His shock of golden-yellow hair shimmered like a western field of ripening wheat in the summer rays. And his eyes. A stunning shade of sparkling blue that matched the cloudless sky and quickly grabbed one’s attention.

Marie was smitten.

There was another quality Jon possessed beyond physical appearance, and Marie immediately experienced it. Jon was one of those very fortunate but rare individuals, who exuded a magnetism that made him instantly likable. Within minutes of meeting Jon, you liked him. Jon was not especially aware of this precious trait. He liked people and simply took their liking of him as a perfectly normal reaction.

Jon brought Marie back to reality, observing, "The sign in the carriage house window says 25. That’s the usual amount for your ice box." As he spoke, he grabbed a block of ice from the front of the wagon, and with heavy, black, steel tongs, pulled it to the rear of the wagon where he was standing. As he did, his sleeveless shirt exposed a display of rippling muscles.

Marie finally spoke, "I really have no idea how much more we need. I don’t even know what twenty-five pounds looks like. Raymond set up a wash-tub on the back porch for you to fill up.

We’ve a big dinner party tonight and my mother is planning some things that require quite a bit of ice. She’d be very upset if we didn’t have enough."

Marie caught herself, thinking, Why am I rattling on like a child? Stop it!

Composing herself, she asked Jon, Why don’t you see for yourself how much we need.

As she spoke, Jon took a sharp icepick from the leather holder attached to his belt. With surgical-like skill, in a series of rapid, precise strokes, he cleaved a nearly perfect square of ice. As he did, he commented, This should do it for your ice box. Let’s see how much more you’ll need.

Draping a piece of burlap over his shoulder, he used the tongs to swing the block of ice onto his back and then started to the house with Marie.

The icebox in the kitchen was made up of three compartments. The largest, on the right side, ran vertically the full length of the box. It accommodated a variety of food, except for the meats, which were in a smaller compartment near the left side. The third compartment at the bottom held the block of ice.

After he placed the ice in position, he then assessed the wash tub; feeling about seventy-five pounds would be adequate.

When he and Marie returned to the ice wagon, they saw about a half-dozen children clustered about all begging for ice chips. And Vlad was most accommodating, chipping off corners of the ice blocks to share with them. Taciturn, but smiling broadly.

Jon smiled, speaking to Marie, That’s so typical of my brother, giving away our ice. He’s just a big kid himself.

Marie responded, Seems pretty sweet to me.

She then seized the opportunity to ask, Do you always come about this time on Saturday? And not wishing to appear too forward, added, The kids might be looking for you.

Jon was quick to reply, Usually. Since I’ve been going to high school, I’ve helped with our Saturday morning deliveries. But I graduate next month and my dad tells me that I’ll probably work here in the Lafayette Park area. Then he added hopefully, Maybe I’ll see you next Saturday about this time.

Marie flashed a smile, saying Maybe! And with a big grin and a slight wave of his hand, he jumped on the wagon, Vlad snapped the reins, and the ice wagon turned away.

Further down the alley, following several other deliveries, Vlad stopped in the shade of a large oak tree. Reiterating an oft stated comment, in his typically laconic style he declared, I’m hungry!

They opened their mid-morning snack. Several slices of hoska. Usually reserved for Christmas holidays, their mother baked this Bohemian bread, loaded with dried figs and nuts for Vlad’s twenty-first birthday, several days ago. Vlad loved it more than any birthday cake. And especially when his mom made it one-way bread, buttering it literally with only one pass of the knife, rather than the usual back and forth motion that scraped half the butter off.

As they sat, without saying a word, savoring their hoska, Jon’s thoughts turned to Marie. He was really taken with her. So pretty. So much better looking that the girls he knew at his high school. Luxurious, raven-black hair that fell to her shoulders. A perfect contrast to a beautiful, pale-skinned, unblemished face that held two gorgeous dark eyes. Flashing dark eyes that complemented her exquisite hair. What an exotic look! Combined with a lithe, athletic body, she was, to Jon, stunning.

Jon brought his thoughts back to reality. She lives on Whittemore Place. A wealthy neighborhood. He is the son of Bohemian immigrants struggling to survive this, their new world. Little chance he would have with her. But it still did not stop him from fantasizing how wonderful it might be to be with her.

Marie returned to the morning room. Seemingly a hundred different thoughts flowed through her mind simultaneously. Even though she did not lead a sheltered life, she really had little contact with boys her age. Having been educated in an all-girls school, along with not having any male relatives her age, left a void in this aspect of her social development.

Her thoughts centered about her meeting Jon. How stupid I must have sounded. Why couldn’t I have come up with some intelligent or even a witty remark. He must think I’m one of the dumbest girls he ever met. But should I care what he thinks? Probably won’t ever see him again.

She vacillated. But I do care. I would like to see him again. But how? How can I see him again? And not appear too obvious.

Marie’s thoughts about Jon suddenly ended when she saw Raymond and Elfie’s carriage turn the corner onto the alley. Raymond reined in the horses, hopped out of the carriage to help Elfie step down and together they brought the groceries into the kitchen.

Marie especially liked Raymond. He was the one male figure she could relate to. Even with complicated matters.

Her father, who professed to love her and no doubt did, spent very little time with her. So busy with his business, he had few moments for any member of the family, letting his wife handle any affairs relating to the house and children.

By contrast, Raymond was always there and always ready to listen. Whether working with the horses, puttering in the back yard, tending to the plants and flowers, or fixing something in the house, he would stop immediately to stop and talk with Marie.

And they could talk for hours. Raymond had served as a Buffalo soldier in the West during the Indian wars. He had an endless store of yarns, anecdotes and experiences he willingly shared with Marie. Most fascinating to Marie was the pervasive theme that permeated throughout all his stories. Raymond loved the West and the feeling of freedom it offered. Even though restricted by the confines of military life, Raymond experienced a sense of freedom unlike living anywhere else.

For Marie, the effect was profound. Rebellious by nature, Raymond’s stories intensified her desire to someday be rid of the shackles of Victorian restraint, and to experience and enjoy that freedom that Raymond so vividly described.

Chapter 2

Marie’s mother, Louise, began her inspection of the house. Tonight’s dinner party was extremely important, not only to her husband, Joseph, but for an entirely different reason to her.

Joseph’s business, Bernhardt Wholesale Hardware, was quite successful, in part, benefitting from the large numbers of people migrating into the greater St. Louis area. Many to stay, but many others utilizing this major city as the last opportunity to fully equip themselves for a long, difficult westward trek.

Very wisely, Joseph Bernhardt was positioning his business for the extensive expansion. The first step would be to establish branches and warehouses in a large circle of communities outside the St. Louis area. Jefferson City to the west, Cape Girardeau to the south and Hannibal to the north.

If this expansion would prove to be as successful as Joseph hoped, then becoming the dominant supplier for the entire area west of the Mississippi River would not be an unrealistic goal.

Joseph had been holding a number of discussions with Henry Krueger, who controlled most of the freight hauling into and out of St. Louis. Joseph had proposed an agreement. Basically, Krueger Transit Company would handle all shipping for Bernhardt Wholesale Hardware. In return, Joseph’s company would be granted substantially lower shipping rates than offered by other transit companies, as well as priority handling.

Henry Krueger was very warm to the idea, and had told Joseph he would seriously consider it. Joseph knew this meant he should discuss the proposition with his wife, Wilma. It was no secret that in the St. Louis business world, Wilma Krueger had a strong hand in the operation of Krueger Transit Company. Coming from a moneyed family, Wilma had access to both the capital and circle of influential acquaintances to start and expand the company’s activities. Her interests spread far beyond her opulent and sybaritic lifestyle. She also processes a unique business acumen, enabling her to grasp opportunities and act on them rapidly.

Unfortunately, during this time, Victorian constraints shadowed women’s outward, active role in any business operations.

As astute as Wilma Krueger was in business, she was also a dominant figure in the social world. And in this world, she could function much more openly. A recognized leader amongst the St. Louis affluent. The Krueger’s residence, in exclusive Lucus Place, was a gathering place for the socially elite.

For Louise Bernhardt, this evening’s dinner offered an anomalous opportunity. For her to possibly be accepted as part of the social in-crowd was just as important as the success of her husband’s business. Two opportunities would be presented. First and primary, to favorably impress Wilma Krueger, whom she had never met. Secondly, to further impress the Fosters. Her daughter, Jeanne, was engaged to John Randolph Foster, their son. John Randolph was in his final years of law school, and following graduation, would join his father’s law firm. His father, Ralph, had built his firm into one of the most prominent in St. Louis, enabling he and his wife, Martha, to be accepted amongst the more socially elite of the city.

For Louise Bernhardt to have both the Kruegers and Fosters as guest at her dinner table was more that she could have ever hoped for. This evening’s dinner had to go perfectly.

Louise first checked with Elfie in the kitchen. This was more to reassure herself than anything else. Elfie was always well organized. Dinner at seven meant all food would be ready to serve at seven sharp. She and Louise had worked on the menu together and Louise really had little worry that the roast of beef and all the accompaniments would be tastefully presented and delicious, as usual.

The dining room was the most important room for the evening’s function. Here is where the interplay of Joseph and her with the guests would take place.

She scanned the room. Looking for anything that was not absolutely correct or out of place. Louise’s dining room was, without a doubt, the most beautiful room in the house. Exquisitely decorated. To Louise, appearance was primary. The need to impress others was a dominant and overriding force; she spared nothing within her means to achieve it.

The dark red, flocked pattern of the wallpaper set the mood of the room. Lace curtains, outlined by the deep scarlet velvet drapes, highlighted the solitary room. The floor of inlaid wood of different shades and hues offered a unique geometric design that Louise had created.

With a critical eye, she examined the table. The focal point of the room. The dark oak table could comfortably accommodate twelve diners. The four carved gryphon legs of the table blended with the curved wooden drop along the edge of the table’s surface. The highly polished top, a massive slab of oak, shone brightly, reflecting the afternoon sun.

Twelve chairs, with straight backs, each displaying lathed circles of wood, and furnished with embroidered seat cushions that would help assure some level of comfort for the hours-long dinner.

The dinner table was already set with her best china, a brilliant white with red rose designs that matched the wallpaper. Cut glass decanters, condiment containers and drinking glasses completed the setting. Over the table, centered, was a magnificent chandelier. Six frosted glass bowls, from which numerous crystal droplets hung and bathed the entire table with a soft glow.

Raymond would be carving, and then serving the roast from the rich walnut hutch. Its white granite top was partially covered with a red velvet cloth edged with gold trim.

Louise was satisfied. The dining room was ready for the evening guests.

Raymond began dressing for the dinner party. It was still early, but Elfie would probably need some last minute help in the kitchen. Louise had mandated formal wear for him and he was most willing to oblige.

Raymond always enjoyed donning his dinner jacket and accompanying wear. Each time he did, it would trigger memories of the Retreat Parade when was stationed Fort Davis in Texas with the Tenth Calvary. His days as a Buffalo Soldier during the Indian wars were some of the happiest of his life.

Preparing for the Retreat Parade Ceremony was one of the highlights of his time and he loved reliving it in his mind. He could still feel the quivering of his horse’s flanks as he combed and brushed her. The distinct odor of the leather gear as he cleaned and polished it still permeated his nostrils. And those brass trappings. How he rubbed them till they glistened in the steamy hot West Texas afternoon sun.

Raymond paused, lost in his thoughts. He recalled every detail the troopers went through after their horses were in show condition. Involuntarily, a smile crossed his face as he remembered the joshing and joviality amongst them, almost in unison as they carefully put on their dress uniforms.

First, the light-blue trousers with the broad, gold strap running along the outer seam from the waist down to the knee-high shiny black boots. The darker blue wool shirt and over that, the dress jackets. Following, the decorative accessories. First, the epaulets. So very distinctive. Gold braid formed an oval with the number 10 inside. The Tenth Cavalry. The room always grew silent when the troopers attached their insignia. Each so proud to part of the Tenth. Next came the black leather sword belt and the cavalry sword. Soft tan leather gloves with flared out wrist covers nearly completed the ensemble. One final piece remained. And that was reserved only for wear at the Retreat Parade, and basically useful only for show. A tall, jet-black hard helmet trimmed with gold braid.

When the Trumpeters sounded assembly about twenty minutes before the sunset, Raymond and his fellow troopers were ready.

Mounting their horses, they fell into formation behind the guidon bearer. Their guidon was a simple notched v flag, the top half red with the number 10 in white letters and the bottom half white with the number K in red. Very simple, by so very important to the men of Troop K. This was a symbol of their identity. This was their sense of belonging, be it in battle or on parade.

As the Retreat Parade Ceremony began, the entire front garrison marched and rode into review. It was as impressive to be part of as much as to view. Raymond would never forget. He wouldn’t want to forget. These memories always invoked strong feelings of great pride.

As he relived the Retreat Parade, Raymond completed dressing in his butler’s formal wear. He was resplendent in a white ruffled shirt with black bow tie, jet black velveteen jacket with full tails that provided a blended contrast with the dove gray trousers. His soft gray hair, still full and curly, complemented his dark skin and the attire he wore. He checked himself in the mirror. Still ramrod straight, he had not lost one bit of his military bearing.

Louise Bernhardt herself had assembled his entire outfit and was more pleased with his appearance. Raymond’s presentation conveyed that sense of elegance that she felt was so important.

The Lafayette Park area was considered one of the finer residential areas of St. Louis. Situated on the streets that radiated outward from the Park to join the major thoroughfares of the Jefferson and Chouteau Avenue, where large, two-story homes reflected the success of their owners. All masterpieces of architectural gingerbread, this was a neighborhood often in the dreams of the upward bound strivers. With the right turn of luck in life, it could be obtainable. Lafayette Park was not a Lucus Place, where elaborate mansions, with their unique fenestrations and porte cocheres, each trying to overshadow their neighbors. Here, existed a lifestyle that would be a fantasy for almost all.

The Bernhardt home was ideally located at the far end of Whittemore Place, which dead-ended at the Park. All homes were two stories. Done in the Italianate Victorian style, the front of the house sat quite close to the street. Only a small grassy area separated the front of the building from the roadway.

Six concrete steps lead up to the double-hung front doors, which were constructed of ornate wood on the lower half and etched glass on the upper.

As with all neighborhood homes, the side yards were ample, while the backyards were quite expansive. Large enough to accommodate carriage houses, small corrals for the horses and a joining garden.

Between the front sidewalk and the curb of the street, extending the full length of the Whittemore Place, the crowns of elm trees soared to the height of the roofs of the houses. Their bright green leaves blended subtly with the verdigris of the roof’s abundant copper trim.

In common with nearby neighborhoods, the street was unpaved. Not born of monetary necessity, but to be both easier on the horses’ hoofs that drew the carriages and delivery wagons, as well as being much quieter than were the brick-paved streets of downtown St. Louis.

Bill and Gloria Werner were the first to arriveliving only several doors down the street, they had, over the years, become close friends to the Bernhardts.

Bill was not only charming, but always a pleasant conservationist. Stimulating. An asset at any dinner party. Gloria was a trusted confident of Louise’s, who would never consider having a dinner party without her friend at her side.

Raymond greeted them at the door. Mrs. Bernhardt will be with you in a moment, he volunteered.

Bill Werner answered, That’s fine Raymond. We will just wait in the parlor.

They walked through the entrance hallway, passing under the huge, four-light chandelier that hung from the twelve-foot high ceiling, casting just enough light to illuminate the dark hallway. In keeping with the Victorian décor, several small palm trees in overly decorative planters sat next to the wall, as did a bust of Mozart, perched upon a four-foot glossy white-coated pedestal. A large elegiac picture of a darkened landscape, created by heavy, thick swaths of paint, hung directly over the bust.

They entered the parlor on the left. Before they could seat themselves, Louise came down from the second-floor master bedroom. Simply, her appearance was elegant. In her forties, she had not lost any of the beauty that she had possessed in her twenties. Her jet-black hair contrasted vividly with the pale, almost white of her flawless skin. Louise was a striking attractive person and she was well aware of it. Entering the parlor, she greeted Gloria with a very warm and sincere hug. Immediately she confided to her friend, I’m so glad you got here before the others. I’m just a nervous wreck. It’s so important that everything goes perfectly this evening.

Gloria reassured her, Louise, I’ve never been to one of your dinner parties that wasn’t perfect. Just relax. There’s no cause for concern. Gloria didn’t know if her words were helpful, but she felt all the better saying them.

Joseph Bernhardt, Marie’s father, entered the room. Although not particularly tall, less than six feet, Joseph’s appearance was accented by a very muscular build. As with Louise, he had a full head of dark black hair, parted very precisely in the exact center of his head. A small, black mustache, no wider that his lips was neatly trimmed. One would not find on his head or mustache a single hair out of place. Joseph was never without his heavy, thick eyeglasses, here again without a single smudge. Very obviously, Joseph Bernhardt was a man who paid close attention to even the smallest detail.

As they were exchanging greetings, a carriage stopped in front of the house. The Fosters had arrived. John Randolph Foster had been engaged to Jeanne, Marie’s sister, for several months. His father, Ralph, owned a very sizable and very successful law firm that John Randolph would join when he completed his final year of law school in several months.

As the driver maneuvered their carriage close to the eighteen-inch high stepping stone at the edge of the curb, John Randolph quickly jumped from the carriage to help his mother alight from her seat. Thin and agile, Martha Foster hardly needed help. Of real need was Ralph Foster. Years of huge and overly calorie-rich lunches and dinners with clients and business associates had wrought an obese individual who found the simple task of exiting a carriage a rather daunting challenge.

The Fosters had been guests of the Bernhardt’s before, and with the formal engagement of Jeanne to John Randolph, Louise had the opportunity to become closer friends of the Fosters. Their