By the time Kryštof and Libuše came back from their two-week vacation, the display case was repaired, dismantled, and ready for transport. It took another few days for Josef to make up his mind where to put it. In the end he decided it should go in Alice’s apartment, since, as he discovered, Květa had been complaining there was too much old junk at Aunt Anna’s. When Alice told her mother that Josef was planning to move an Art Nouveau display case with their old souvenirs into her apartment, Aunt Anna said:
“That Josef of yours, my dear Květa, is starting to lose his marbles. You have to look to the future, not the past. Both of you act like you were still living twenty years ago. A pair of funny old fish. Don’t look at me like that! Why don’t you do something about it?”
(3)
It was, of course, sheer coincidence that one morning, at exactly a quarter past nine, Josef turned up with Kryštof at his daughter’s apartment in Vinohrady. He had a knapsack on his back, and together the two were carrying an incredibly long, ridiculous bag containing all the parts of the display case. Kryštof helped Josef unpack everything and said he would see him that evening. Before he could leave, though, Josef suggested for the umpteenth time that he really ought to walk around and look at a few town halls first before deciding whether to hold the wedding in Prague or Kostelec, which was the capital of the district that Lhotka belonged to. It was the first time Alice had heard anyone mention a wedding, and she wasn’t sure if it was just a dumb joke or the clumsy way the two men closest to her had decided to break the news to her that Kryštof was getting married. Once Kryštof left, she began asking questions, and Josef told her he had been trying to talk Kryštof into holding the wedding in Prague for two months now. He added that he didn’t like to visit the city and, in fact, enjoyed it less and less, but he couldn’t deny that it offered a comparatively large selection of town halls. Kryštof, however, steadfastly refused. “Do you realize you’ve made a villager out of him?” Alice said. Josef found that amusing, and when he was done laughing he replied that he wasn’t doing it for Kryštof’s sake, but for the sake of the blonde, as he still referred to Libuše. When Alice informed him that Květa was coming to lunch at noon, he looked at his watch and retorted that last time it had taken him one hour and forty-seven minutes to assemble the display case, including the time he spent looking for the Phillips screwdriver, which Kryštof had borrowed and forgotten to return to its place in the tray. Seeing as it was already nearly a quarter to ten, Josef got to work.
“Does your mother and my wife still show up a half hour before she’s invited?” he asked.
“Not anymore, Dad,” Alice said. “Not for a while now. She usually comes only ten or fifteen minutes early now, but she still complains that everyone else is late and she’s the only one who’s punctual.”
“So she’s getting older, too,” Josef said, and he began pulling his tools out of the knapsack. When at exactly half past eleven, the door opened and Květa walked into the apartment, the display case had been assembled for fifteen minutes already. Josef looked at his wristwatch, thinking about the fact that his wife had always showed up a half hour early, and that some things never change, and that he still knew his wife better than their daughter did. As Květa stepped into the room from the entryway, Josef rose from his chair and Alice realized she hadn’t seen him that nervous in a very long time.
“Hello, Květuš,” he said.
“Hi, Josífek,” Květa said. She approached him somewhat stiffly and offered her hand, which Josef shook. Then all of a sudden they hastily embraced, hurriedly kissed, and swiftly stepped away from each other again. They’re both nervous, Alice thought. She said hello to her mother and the three of them went together to look at the display case, which Josef had set up in Alice’s room. As they stepped through the door, Květa took in the view of the wooden Art Nouveau case with its three aquamarine glass shelves. On the middle shelf were the clay potsherds, the Celtic agates and rose quartz were on top, and the trilobite was all the way on the bottom of the case, with the pebbles from Bojkovice on one side, the bronze ax on the other, and behind them the copies of the seal casts from Mohenjo-daro in present-day Pakistan. On the level above, the bottom shelf, were the garnets from Kozákov.
“So you found the agates?” Květa said. “And those must be the pebbles from Bojkovice,” she said, obviously pleased.
“Precisely,” Josef said with a satisfied air. “It was all there in those two boxes I rediscovered.”
“Uh-huh,” Květa said, studying the other objects. “You know, Ali, we bought these before you were born.” She reached out her hand and touched the display case. “Those weren’t even deciphered yet back then, were they, Josef?” she said, pointing to the cast of a small elongated seal depicting a one-horned ox with several mysterious letters above it. The cast of another seal showed a boat with an oarsman.
“What was it, Josef, that we read in that book? Three steps … No! With three steps Vishnu measured the entire universe. Something like that, wasn’t it?” Květa said. “Have they deciphered it yet?”
“I don’t think so,” Josef said. “It takes time, you know. It isn’t that easy.”
“Now come and have lunch or it’ll be cold. Come on! You can look at it afterwards,” Alice said. “I still haven’t looked myself.” She went and sat down at the table.
“So what is that there in the back, Josífek?” Květa said during the soup.
“That’s cuneiform,” Josef said. “You know that.”
“Oh, you’re right. We went to those lectures at the library together, didn’t we?”
“What library?” Alice asked.
“The City Library,” Květa said. “Actually, Josífek, I’m curious where you dug up those pebbles from Bojkovice. I’d really like to know.”
“It was all there in that box.”
“I could have sworn I took them to Aunt Anna’s. Back then, when you moved out.”