Peter touched his mug to his father’s and took a deep swallow.
The beer, brewed locally, was good—the brewery, like much of the farmland, was the property of the family.
A little sharper, Peter thought, than the beer in Argentina.
That triggered a memory of Alicia. He wondered how she would look sitting at this table; what she would think of the Schloss, of the estate. For Pomerania, the von Wachtstein estate was very large. But compared to Estancia Santo Catalina, it was tiny.
“What’s in your mind, Hansel?” the Graf asked. “You seem far away.”
“I was thinking…a friend in Argentina has an eighty-odd-thousand-hectare estate.”
“I was thinking of your mother,” the Graf said. “And your brothers.”
Peter didn’t reply. Is he implying that I should have been thinking of them too?
“Eighty thousand hectares?” the Graf asked incredulously, and went on before Peter could reply. “Your American friend, you mean?”
“No,” Peter said. “His is even larger, and he has three or four of them. I was thinking of the estancia of a young lady I know.”
“How well?”
“Sir?”
“How well do you know the young lady?”
“Very well, Poppa. I want to marry her.”
The Graf raised an eyebrow in surprise but said nothing.
Frau Brüner came in with a large china tureen and ladled onto their plates thick pea soup with chunks of ham floating in it.
“My favorite, Frau Brüner,” the Graf said. He put a spoon to his plate, tasted the soup, and nodded his approval.
Frau Brüner beamed.
“Eat your soup, Hansel,” the Graf ordered.
Frau Brüner waited for Peter’s reaction, then left the room.
“Have you actually proposed marriage to this young woman?” the Graf asked.
“Not formally. But it is understood between us.”
“Was that the honorable thing to do?”
“This is the girl for me, Poppa.”
“That’s not what I asked. Does she understand your prospects? Have you considered that?”
“She knows everything,” Peter said.
“You told her?”
His tone made it very clear the Graf was surprised and disappointed.
“It’s like…I don’t quite know how to explain this, Poppa…it’s like one enormous family down there. Alicia’s mother—”
“Alicia? That’s a very pretty name.”