In front of the main gate stood a yellow sport car. At the sight of it, David thought he might have expected something so cliché from a rich Norwegian, but the sight of the car nevertheless impressed him. You didn't see such cars in this area. In fact, David had never seen one like it in person. He suspected that throughout his life he would not earn as much money as the car cost. So this is really the owner? He breathed a sigh of relief.
"What are you sighing so much?" The man looked at him suspiciously.
"No, nothing."
"Then get in," the man turned off the central lock.
At the thought of having to get into such an expensive car, David felt excitement. He obediently followed the command. After a while, the man took the driver's seat. The boy was unable to raise his eyes to him immersed in the delight of being inside an automotive legend.. He noticed only the sleeve of driver's shirt - purple with white stripes. It gave the impression of being expensive and delicate. Well, if he was who he claimed to be, he must have been pretty well stuffed.
"So where are we going?"
"Straight ahead. After the village there will be about a kilometer of fields and another village. The first house on the left."
The man started the engine and took off.
David smelled a pleasant fragrance flowing from him with some kind of woody-floral note. He was not familiar with perfumes, but these smelled expensive. They were subtle, yet somehow appealing. He compared them to his eau de toilette and felt ashamed. It wasn't bad, he even spent quite a bit on it, but he was painfully aware of the difference in class.
"Is it here?" asked the man slowing down.
"Yes."
The car pulled over and they both got out. David was still embarrassed to look at the man, who might turn out to be the man for whom his father's company and consequently himself work. If, after today's events, Meiden didn't want to continue working together, he didn't know how he would explain this to his father. If, because of him, they didn't get a contract, his father would either bust his ass or simply throw him out of the house.
David sighed, cursing tonight in his mind. Could it have turned out worse? He suddenly trembled. The evening wasn't over yet so who knows what else awaits him?
Their dog had been barking for quite a while and David saw movement behind the kitchen curtain. His mother must have already seen that he had arrived in a strange car and was leading a strange man into the house. He hoped she wasn't imagining something bad now, like a policeman driving him away. But policeman in such a car? No way. She will probably notice that his clothes are heavily soiled. She definitely will be puzzled. He wondered if she will be angry with him because of dirty clothes?
It only took her a moment to appear at the front door. She was not angry, rather frightened. Although no, her facial expression quickly became something else....
"Good evening," the man bowed to her. "I am Gustav Meiden. I was informed that at your place I will get the keys to my house."
David looked puzzled at his mother, who was standing in the doorway as if enchanted, driving a full gaze of admiration into the newcomer. Annoyed, he looked at him for the first time in the light. Meiden's profile was visible in the light coming from the hallway.
Gustav Meiden had a long fringe that obscured almost half his face and hair that was almost shoulder-length, light blond or red - in this light it was difficult to judge. His jaw was clearly defined, very masculine, his nose was long, his mouth narrow. His eyes were very bright green, with a faint hint of amber brown. He could have been about thirty years old, David estimated, or even less, and he even looked good. He could definitely appeal to women. But his mother definitely shouldn't react to seeing him like a delighted teenager.
"I'll go get father," stated David embarrassed by his mother's behavior and quickly passed her entering the house. "It will take a while, because he broke his leg and moves around on crutches."
He noticed that his mother had finally cooled down and began to invite the guest inside. They didn't have a living room or playroom in the house, but there was a room on the first floor for receiving guests. Mother cleaned it regularly, even though no one lived there, and kept it tidy for a annual priest's visit after the Christmas, whom, by the way, they always received there.
Father heard a commotion and emerged swinging from the kitchen.
"Who is it?" He asked his son.
"Gustav Meiden"
"What? That is impossible! He was not due until tomorrow!"
"I know, I ran into him today outside the palace. He says he arrived early. I guess you have to give him the keys, huh?"
"Bring them. You know where they are."
Of course he knew, because since his father had broken his leg, he had personally acted as the key man. He pulled them out of the drawer and went into the room, where his mother was twitching offering the guest a treat.
"I really thank you, but I'm tired from the long trip and would like to just lie down in my house and rest."
"Not everything is completely done there yet," the father scratched his head. "David, my son, was supposed to finish everything tomorrow before your arrival...."
"It's not a problem. I know I'm early."
"My brother was supposed to show you around tomorrow and show you everything...."
"Thank you, I can handle it myself."
"...Unless David does it today...."
Meiden looked annoyed, however, he smiled politely although giving David an artificial smile and glanced in his direction.
"Fine," he said without a moment's hesitation.
David wanted to say something with an objection, but one look at his parents was enough for him to give up. They really cared about making the best possible impression on a man who could afford to buy and restore an 18th century palace and its surrounding park.
Well, money has always given people certain privileges.
"I'll just change quickly and get a sweatshirt, because the night is getting cold..."
He glanced at Meiden and found that his bright green eyes were even colder.
Well, beautiful, he thought. Things are not going to go too smoothly for him tonight with this guy.
***
David's father was a gardener and ran a small ornamental plant farm. Nothing big, he certainly wasn't a myopic grower. There was enough for bills and life, but not necessarily for vacations anymore. When a competition was announced for the renovation of the historic palace and its surroundings, he saw it as a huge opportunity. He entered his company together with his brother's construction company, and as a close-knit duo they put their hearts into the work as soon as it was announced that they had won. The palace was a huge challenge, and so was the park, but a wealthy client from Norway, a descendant of the original owners, had the foresight to restore the heritage to its glory and did not begrudge the money.
Such a large area required constant care, pruning, cutting and planting of trees and shrubs, lawn care and an English-style garden, which David worked especially hard on. The wealthy gentleman from Norway will not be able to do everything himself, so he will need workers. It was with the prospect of long-term cooperation that everyone tremblingly awaited Meiden's arrival. They wanted to make the best first impression on him.
Meanwhile, the first impression came off rather badly, and this was thanks to David's inattention. So he will have to do everything in his power to make the second one come off perfectly.
"You're tired, Mr. Meiden" announced David, who took no more than a minute to change into a more worn-out T-shirt, work jeans and worn-out tennis shoes, "so I'll only show you the main part. You will see the rest tomorrow. Is that convenient for you?"
"Perfect," he agreed and reached into his pocket. From it he took out some kind of plastic card. "Proof of my identity" he handed it to the elderly Krosny.
The gardener hesitated, but took it in his hand. He didn't understand much of it, since it was drawn up in Norwegian, but it looked like everything was in order. He handed the ID back to him.
"David, hand over the keys to Mr. Meiden."
The blushing boy held out a bundle of larger and smaller keys to him. The one with the ID check he came up with on his own. The father had not for a moment intended to do so.
"Thank you very much," Maiden stood up. "Can we go now?"
"We can," agreed David.
The Norwegian said goodbye to his hosts and left. Following him, David took a sweatshirt from the hallway. He expected to return on foot, and it was already getting chilly.
As if to confirm this just outside the door the cold night air enveloped him. He quickly threw on his sweatshirt. Meiden walked ahead of him, as if this slightly lower temperature made no impression on him. It probably was so, David thought. After all, he was Norwegian. Meiden wordlessly got into the car. David did the same. The second time getting into this wonderful sports car he felt no less excitement than the first time. Before they knew it they were already pulling up to the main gate again.
"Maybe I'll open it," offered Dawid. "It will be faster."
The man wordlessly handed him the keys.
He's a small-talker, thought David while untying the chain. I wonder if this is a national trait or just his?
The car stopped as soon as it passed the gate. David was about to close it when he heard.
"Leave it!"
"But you'd better close gates for the night!"
"I'll drive you back first."
"It's okay, I'll come back by foot..."
"I said, leave it!"
Oy, oy, how nervous. Since starting an argument in the middle of the night wouldn't do anything, and the Norwegian looked like the kind of person who likes to stand his ground, David gave up. Besides, he wasn't one of the argumentative people in general. He assumed that sometimes it was better to shut up. The problem usually resolved itself anyway, to his liking.
So he returned to the car.
The drive to the site was not long. The car drove well on the pavement they laid. It took them some time and they didn't do it themselves, but it was the uncle's company that handled both the design of the pattern and the execution.
Finally they arrived at the palace itself. Its white walls shone in the spotlight, revealing a grand, two-story palace in the classicist style of the Enlightenment era. The massive front door crowning the wide staircase looked grand, distinguishing itself from the light background with its dark color. David took a quick glance around and found that everything looked good. He heard the slam of the trunk closing.
Meiden handed him a travel bag.
David took it without a word of complaint. The guy probably had a lot of luggage and it was natural to help him carry it inside. That's why he was surprised when he saw that he himself was carrying only a laptop bag. Although he was calm by nature, something boiled inside him. Had he become a baggage handler?
It's nothing, it's nothing. It's just today. The visitor came from another country, another culture and has no clue about the customs here or the fact that David is not his servant. He probably thinks that servants come in a package with the house, but everything will become clear, tomorrow.
"Which key?" Meiden asked at the top of the stairs.
David pointed him to the right one. The door gave way.
"The light switch is on the right by the door," David explained. The Norwegian pressed it and the entire interior lit up with candelabras showing walls covered with green, ornate wallpaper. In a modern house this deliciously old-fashioned design would have looked less than ideal, but here they were dealing with an historical interior, the owner of which wished to reflect as closely as possible the spirit of the times in which it was built.
Meiden, however, did not seem impressed. He looked around, not admiring the craftsmanship of the decor, but checking the layout of the rooms. David, who, along with his entire family (even his mother helped them lay wallpaper) had put all his heart into the renovation, felt irritated by the owner's indifference.
Not good, thought David. This guy is really starting to get on my nerves.
David didn't let offended pride get the better of him. This whole Meiden may have been an indifferent to everything, underestimating the work of others, but he was his principal, not his friend. The most important thing was that he pay them the rest of the money and hire them for the future. He didn't need to pay them compliments.
I'm a professional too. David stated in his mind and continued.
"The second light switch is at the top of the stairs," he explained matter-of-factly. "To the right is a kitchen stocked with modern appliances, but they are not yet plugged in. I can turn on the refrigerator...."
"It's not necessary."
No means no. His choice.
"Do you want to see it, Mr. Meiden?"
"Why do you call me mister?"
David twitched surprised by the question.
"Excuse me?"
"Earlier you said 'on you'[1]."
"..."
David was reminded of their exchange of words when he had his face stuck in the grass.
"E, earlier I thought I was talking to a criminal," he explained. "This was no time for politeness. Now I know who you are, Mr. Meiden."
"Isn't it more convenient to call me by my first name?"
"A little, but my mother would rip off my ears if she found out."
"Compromise. You can address me as Mr. Gustav. If you leave Mr., nothing will happen either. Does it bother you that I call you informally?"
"No."
"Fine. Continue."
Continue what, pondered David, because he had lost the thread through this conversation. Oh, yes, the guided tour.
"Your bedroom is upstairs," they started towards the stairs with a heavy, dark brown wooden handrail. The Norwegian climbed them rather slowly, holding the laptop bag he had slung over his shoulder. David noticed that he was walking not in the middle of the stairs, but on their right side. As they traversed the gallery, he similarly clung to the wall.
This seemed strange to the boy, but he was far from drawing any conclusions.
"The bedroom is here," David pointed to the first door on the right. "Of course, you can choose any room you want. We just thought we would prepare something close to the exit and the kitchen to start with. The bathroom is opposite."
Norwegian opened the door to the bedroom, which was already decorated without the Enlightened age splendor. It was a fairly simple room with a wooden floor, wooden panels on the wall and a rather plain oak closet. Only the bed looked unusual, larger than the marriage bed, truly regal in size, with four turned pillars and a canopy.
It caught Meiden's attention, who raised an eyebrow in curiosity.
"Without curtains?" He asked.
David scowled. Is the guy asking seriously or is he joking?
Remember that you are a professional and you don't judge people, he admonished himself. You simply present the work done to the customer.
"This is one of the two original beds left. Of course, the mattresses have been replaced. It's maybe a little big..."
"It's perfect. It just needs curtains."
For David, who was a child of the 21st century, a bed with a canopy was not only an anachronism, but an outright abomination. For several days he fought with his father not to put it in this bedroom and replace it with some comfortable, modern furniture. However, his father was adamant. He stated that someone who packs so much money to renovate a crumbling hovel and give it an original character would surely appreciate this carpentry work of art. Never in my life, thought David at the time. Now he stood surprised as he watched Meiden walk up to the bed and touch its carved columns.
Well, it is said that tastes are not discussed. However, if David were to discuss, he would definitely start to suspect Gustav Meiden of liking bed perversions.
But that was totally none of his business.
[1] In Polish, as in many other languages, there are two forms of addressing someone, the polite form where you say 'pan/pani' (Mr./Mrs.) to someone and the 'na ty' ('on you') form typical of English. Mr./Mrs. is said to people with whom we do not have a close relationship, for example, people we meet on the street, salesmen in a store, etc. At work, the person's first name, not last name, is often added to the word 'Mr./Mrs.' This is an established linguistic custom. 'On you' is said to colleagues. In some companies, it is a custom adopted from English to speak this way to superiors as well. At this point, the relationship between Gustav and David is on the level of employer and employee, hence the completely natural form of 'Mr. Meiden' that David addresses Gustav.
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