Child of the Light by Janet Berliner, George Guthridge Page A

Miriam again.
    "Stop breathing down my neck." Sol shifted slightly so they could both have a clear view of the door.
    The bell above the shop door jangled. With a theatrical wave of his hand, Herr Freund ushered in the Foreign Minister. Rathenau entered--alone. He wore a gray suit and maroon cravat and carried a walking stick under his arm. A huge diamond twinkled in its knob.
    "How nice to see you again, Herr Freund."
    The statesman surveyed the shop, breathing deeply as though savoring the rich aroma of tobacco that permeated the air.
    Herr Freund slipped behind the counter and quickly removed the dice cups. "How might I serve you, Herr Rathenau?"
    Now that the counter was between them, his tone was comfortable. Erich understood that feeling of putting something tangible between himself and someone to whom he felt in some way inferior; he had often wished he could do it with his Freikorps-Youth leader. He recognized the defensive gesture that allowed clerk and customer to maintain their separate worlds across the barrier of Meerschaum pipes and open cigar boxes and glass.
    "A couple of cigars, to begin with," Rathenau said. "I'm to accompany my mother to the Schauspielhaus tonight. A troupe from Frankfurt is attempting Faust ...mediocre talent, I'm told, but exuberant. Give me something light but full-bodied. Perhaps it'll help me forget that I'm allowing myself to sit through yet another butchering of Goethe."
    Erich watched Herr Freund select two fine Havanas. Herr Rathenau paid for them with a banknote, then indicated he would take another, for immediate use.
    "Perhaps you would honor me by accepting one of these." Reaching under the glass, Herr Freund produced a single cigar. He twirled it in his fingers, breathed in its aroma, and placed it on a small velvet pad, which he passed to the Foreign Minister.
    "Something new?" Herr Rathenau asked.
    "I have named a cigar for my son and a gold-tipped cigarillo for my daughter. We were about to name one for my partner's son."
    "About time," Erich whispered, surprised.
    "With your permission, however," Herr Freund said, "we should like to name this latest...a Rathenau."
    Furious at having lost out to the Foreign Minister, Erich watched Herr Freund clip the cigar and light it. "Too early in the day to soak the tip in cognac," the tobacconist said, tossing the end in a trash basket and handing Rathenau the cigar.
    I hope you choke on it, Erich thought, as the Foreign Minister moistened his lips with his tongue and rotated the cigar in his mouth, relishing it as one might a fine brandy.
    "Excellent--and I am deeply touched by your tribute." Herr Rathenau raised his brows in appreciation, patted Jacob on the shoulder and blew a stream of smoke toward the ceiling's ceramic friezes. "You have proven yourself to be a seller of smokes without equal. And now, as to my main reason for stopping by--"
    Herr Freund's smile remained fixed. He leaned forward, hands on the glass, shirt sleeves rolled up, the glow from the overhead lamps shining dully on the bald spot where his hairline receded.
    "As I implied," Rathenau said, "I did not come simply for cigars. I came to see the boy."
    "I was right." Erich poked Sol playfully in the ribs. "Miriam must have asked him to come."
    "Is that you, Solomon, hiding back there?" Rathenau asked. "Come on out."
    The boys exchanged startled glances.
    "Go on!" Erich shoved his friend a little too hard and Sol practically fell into the shop.
    "That was some performance you gave last night," the Foreign Minister said.
    "I know I was awful, sir."
    Erich secretly applauded Sol's honesty. Apparently Herr Freund felt otherwise, because his face tightened.
    "Well, you're no virtuoso, but Miri liked your Haydn. Judging by your degree of discomfort with performing, however--" Rathenau smiled and put an arm around Solomon's shoulders--"I rather suspect you might be persuaded to give up playing in public."
    Seeing them side by side, Erich was struck with how diminutive