The Daughter's Walk - Jane Kirkpatrick [102]
“They’re building a new lighthouse in Bengtskär,” he told me as we approached the gulf. “It’ll rise up fifty-two meters from a rocky island. We might be able to see it from here.” He pointed into the blue horizon dotted with sea gulls.
My eyes scanned the distance. Lighthouses would always make me think of Manistee, Michigan, perhaps my best memory of that city. I wished I had Olea’s binoculars along. “You know so much about everything here,” I said.
He shrugged. “To know Russia is to know a bit of Finland, and I know a little of Russia.” The sea air felt almost warm the closer we got to our destination, and an English-speaking Finn said the port stayed free of ice in the wintertime, making it a desirable passage for both Finns and Russians. “Wealthy people come here for the climate in the summer. And winter too.”
I pulled my motor coat tight around me. I liked the admiring looks from fellow travelers. A few even asked to see the coat, and I showed the lining and told them how the manufacturer sliced the leather side and then resewed it to make it supple. I’d gained a sense of competence using the terminology of manufacturing these past weeks. After visiting and listening, I could describe the artistry in what I wore and admire the intricacies of the designs, but I was still a novice.
“If the port rarely freezes, they likely don’t need fur coats here,” I told Franklin later.
“Russians always need fur coats,” Franklin told me. “They may not be interested in your Northwest sable, but they’d be aware if someone became commercially successful in farming it.”
“It’s my intent to make them notice then,” I said. First foxes, then mink.
“Oh, they’ll notice you,” he said. “I have no doubt.”
I was accustomed to Franklin’s compliments in the presence of Olea and Louise, but they were different when only my ears heard them. Still, I didn’t want to lose myself in this man; it would be dangerous with no certain outcome.
Everywhere we went, we heard about the Finns’ decision to grant women the vote and to allow women to stand for public office next year.
A Finn traveler winked at me and said, “We’ve sent many a countryman to America through the years, so expect them to push for such rights for women there too.”
Suffrage had been my mother’s cause, not mine.
At the hotel we arranged for a carriage. I commented on how many Russian voices I overheard and that the English used by the serving staff had a Russian accent to it.
“Everyone here is required to know Russian,” he told me. “Finland has an uneasy relationship with the Motherland. Russia worries that the Germans might use Sweden to talk Finland into allowing a staging site for a German attack against Russia one day.”
“Is that likely?”
He shrugged. “The alliances here are uneasy ones. You have to know the histories and family lineages to be sure not to step on someone’s toes. I wouldn’t want to be a diplomat in this part of the world. Distant cousins can be as much trouble as siblings,” Franklin said.
“You are a diplomat of sorts,” I said.
“Trade is different from politics,” he noted. “I’ve kept the same contacts for years now, people Olea and Louise introduced me to, and then those contacts introduced me to others. We make many decisions based on experience over time. I accept the differences of each country’s operations, and they accept my expectations and tell me if they can deliver or not. Saves a lot of time.”
I knew then I’d always need an intermediary for me if I continued in this trade. I could be blunt with people, but I’d never have the knowledge Franklin had. I looked at the profile of his handsome face as he stared out at the sea. I admired him. I liked learning from him and traveling with him. But I realized that was as far as I ever wanted it to go. Olea and Louise could have come along. I’d deprived them of something they would have enjoyed,