The Ring Chapter 17, 18

 

 

MARGO LOUD STEINER

“STOP, STOP, STOP.” Margo said. Her tone wasn’t one that said an accident was about to happen. They had already pulled off the Autobahn for the quiet of the national roads to search for a small restaurant, not that the Autobahn didn’t have stops with good food.

Hans-Peter wanted a break from what he called the races.

“Where?”

“There’s a restaurant over there and it’s next to an art supply store.” Although she had loaded up on sketch pads and colored pencils before they’d left Stuttgart, she wanted to check what they would have that she might use while Hans-Peter was off filming at the dig.

He had called ahead to get her into any team meetings and access to any of the discoveries so she could copy the designs. Her reputation had opened doors for her that would have been closed to her when they were a young couple. As a young couple neither had any doors to have opened.

Tomorrow they would meet up with the BBC crew who were filming on spec that this would work into a full series. If not, Hans-Peter was happy with a single documentary. It would boost his book sales.

Hans-Peter helped her into the back of the Dacia where she could stretch out her leg along the seat. This car was bigger than they had when they were married.

Neither were proponents of big cars, but Margo needed space to transport her dishes, and Hans-Peter had books and other materials he used in his lectures including filming equipment.

“When we were young you said, ‘I don’t need to prove my manhood on the road,’ Margo reminded him.” “Still feel that way?”

“More or less. I drove a friend’s Ferrari once about six months ago. Beautiful machine. I’m too cheap to spend the money for something that does the job a used VW which will sit in the garage for weeks at a time will do.”

Margo smiled. She knew Hans-Peter used public transportation most of the time. She would have back home, too, except there was none.

“Art store or restaurant first?” he asked.

“Art store. I don’t want to risk they’ll close while we’re eating and there’s a certain kind of brush that will probably be cheaper here than in the States.”

 

THIS IS ALMOST a vacation which I haven’t had in umpty-ump years and it pours rain, Margo thought as Hans-Peter drove up to the little red house. Despite the weather, she didn’t regret saying yes to coming to Sweden with her ex.

He had a week of shooting for a BBC documentary on the new archeological methods used at the Luppåkra dig and the discoveries they helped find.

The weather could be a problem although interviews with some of the professors involved could be done indoors while waiting for the rain to stop. Shots of Hans-Peter at the site talking about how people had lived since the Iron Age could include weather information of long ago and could be worked into the script if the rain didn’t stop. He told her of two people he could call. “One of them will give me the sentences I need, if I mention his name.”

Margo had been surprised that, unlike during their marriage, their conversation was back and forth about him and her. He asked about her new kiln, the different clay, where she got her design ideas, things he hadn’t done when they were married.

During the drive from Germany, she had loved their conversations which expanded to books, movies and world politics. The 500 miles flew by.

Inside, the first thing she noticed was one bed. “I can take the couch.”

“Or I can. Your cast needs more room.”

As it turned out they would share the bed later that evening.

Almost as soon as they arrived, they left for dinner with an archeological colleague and his translator wife with whom Hans-Peter was filming the next day. “They’re also friends. You’ll like them.” He shut off the car engine in their driveway.

“This is it. I stay here whenever I come to Luppåkra. Johnathan and Walter are staying at another B&B just down the road.” He reached into the back seat for an umbrella and walked around to Margo’s side to help her out of the car and up the three steps to the front door.

“We didn’t bring anything?” she said.

He reached into the back seat and brought out a bottle of German white wine.