by Jae
Since they had just opened, no customers had found their way to the store yet, but a short woman looked up from the leather-bound notebooks she’d been arranging on an island display that dominated the middle of the room.
At first, Susanne thought she might be an intern or a university student who worked for her uncle part-time, but as she took a moment to study the woman, she realized that only her slight build and her large eyes, which seemed almost too big for her delicate face, made her look younger than she was. The faint lines around her eyes and her mouth revealed that she was probably closer to Susanne’s own age—thirty-eight—than to thirty, and she had made no attempt to cover them with makeup.
She wasn’t beautiful in the classic sense of the word. Her hair was too dark to be blonde and too light to be brown; too wavy to be straight but not wavy enough to qualify as curly. Mostly, it looked windblown.
Not Susanne’s usual type for sure. But there was something about her that drew her gaze anyway. If Susanne hadn’t been so pissed off, she probably would have found her cute.
But cute or not, this wasn’t the look she had expected from a saleswoman. Didn’t her uncle enforce a more professional dress code? The woman was wearing blue jeans and a white blouse, for Christ’s sake! Admittedly, she looked good in them, but that wasn’t the point.
“Good morning.” The woman’s voice had a surprisingly husky depth for someone so small. She directed a friendly smile at Susanne. “How may I help you?”
At least the saleswoman wasn’t rude to potential customers. There might be hope for her yet. Susanne walked toward her.
Splash, splash, splash. Her left boot squished with every step and left puddles of water on the tiled floor. She tried her best to ignore it and appear professional. “My name is Susanne Wolff. I’m looking for Norbert. Is he in?”
“Of course. Um, Nobby?” the woman called toward the back of the room, where an open door led to what might be the office or a supply room. “There’s someone here for you. And, um, could you bring the mop while you’re back there?”
Nobby? Her uncle was not only on a first-name basis with his employee but also allowed her to call him by his nickname? Such familiarities with employees were often a bad idea. It was high time someone with a clue about managing a business took over.
Things around here would change; she’d make sure of that—as soon as she’d gotten out of this wet boot.
Her uncle entered the sales area through the door in the back. He was a little balder and grayer than she remembered, but he immediately put down the mop and came toward her with open arms. “Susi! There you are!”
“I go by Susanne now.” Only her twin sister was still allowed to call her by her childhood nickname.
“Oh. Of course.” He squeezed her tightly, then let go and took a step back to look her over. “You look great. You’re the spitting image of your father. But, um, what happened to your boot?”
Being compared to her father didn’t exactly improve Susanne’s mood. With a grunt, she shook her left foot. Her cold, wet toes felt as if they were about to fall off. “I stepped into a gutter.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, pointing at the death trap.
“It’s not a gutter,” the employee said softly. “It’s a Bächle.”
“I know what it’s called, but frankly, I don’t care. Who the hell puts uncovered waterways in the middle of the street? Someone could break a leg!”
The employee didn’t back away from Susanne’s glare. With her elfin features and her slight build, she might have looked like a pushover, but the tiny cleft in her stubborn chin declared that she wouldn’t let herself be intimidated. “Well, look on the bright side.”
A snort escaped Susanne. Oh Christ. She’s one of those the-glass-is-half-full Pollyanna types. Not that she had anything against a positive attitude, but rose-colored glasses wouldn’t help them save the store. “There’s a bright side to ruining my favorite pair of boots?”
“Oh yes.” The woman’s smile was irritatingly unshakable. “Legend has it that if you accidentally step into a Bächle, you’ll marry a local guy and live happily ever after in our beautiful city.”
Susanne nearly spat out the sip of coffee she’d just taken. “That’s the last thing I want.”
Uncle Norbert chuckled and patted her back. “Local girl. Ending up with a guy wouldn’t be much of a happy ending for my niece.”
The woman’s large eyes—they were a warm brown, as Susanne could now see—widened even more. “You…you are…?”
Oh great. Just when she had thought this day couldn’t get any worse, it turned out she’d be working with a backwoods person who acted as if she had never met a gay person before. She just hoped the woman wouldn’t turn out to be a homophobe. The homophobic attitudes at her former workplace were part of the reason she had quit her last job, and she wouldn’t stand for it in her uncle’s business either. She squared her shoulders and tried to look as dignified and proud as her coffee-stained clothes and wet boot would allow. “Yes, I’m a lesbian. Do you have a problem with that?”
“W-what? No! That’s not what I… I didn’t… I just meant…”
Susanne waved away her stammered excuses.
Uncle Norbert wrapped one arm around each of them and beamed as if he hadn’t noticed the tension between them. “Susi, um, Susanne, may I introduce you to Anja Lamm, my favorite full-time employee?”
“Only full-time employee,” Frau Lamm threw in.
Lamm. Susanne bit back a snort. That was exactly the way Frau Lamm had just stared at her—like a lamb who’d glimpsed a wolf. She gave her a brisk nod, not in the mood for meaningless pleasantries, and then turned toward her uncle. “Is there someplace where I can get cleaned up?”
“Of course. Let me show you.” He lightly gripped her elbow and led her toward the door in the back.
Susanne left the room without giving Frau Lamm another glance.
Anja grabbed the mop that Nobby had left behind, sank against the island display, and stared after them. That was his niece?
It hadn’t been hard to guess that the tall woman wasn’t a local. In her well-pressed, black slacks, a cream-colored cashmere sweater, and a long, black wool coat, she looked like a lawyer here for a case, a guest lecturer at the university, or an overdressed tourist.
As much as she tried, Anja couldn’t see any family resemblance. Even after she had stepped into the Bächle, not a single strand of the woman’s chestnut hair had been out of place. It was swept up into an elegant twist that accentuated the long line of her neck. In comparison, the ring of gray hair encircling Nobby’s otherwise bald head often seemed to defy gravity, lending him an Einstein-ish look. His niece definitely hadn’t inherited Nobby’s bowlegs either—or his kindness. Her gray eyes had been as cool as the weather outside.
No wonder! She thinks you have a problem with her sexual orientation.
Anja groaned. Nothing could be further from the truth.
When steps approached, she busied herself mopping up the water on the floor, not wanting Susanne to think she’d been staring after her.
But it was just Nobby, who returned alone.
“That’s your niece?” Anja whispered, keeping an eye on the door that led to the tiny office and the equally tiny bathroom.
“Isn’t it obvious? I have the same arresting cheekbones, don’t I?” His blue eyes twinkled as he patted his bearded cheeks.
“Don’t forget slender build.” She lightly nudged his potbelly.
“That too.”
“She didn’t look anything like this,” Anja gestured toward the back, “in the photo you showed me.”
Nobby scratched his beard. “Well, I took that photo the last time she visited with her mother and sister, so it’s a few years old already.”
“Years? Try decades.” In the photo she’d seen, Susanne had been a gangly teenager of maybe sixteen or seventeen.
He tilted his head. “Is that a problem?”
“Yes! I mean, now she
thinks I stared at her because I have a problem with her sexual orientation, not because I thought your niece was much younger.”
“Oh.” He looked helpless for a second before shrugging. “Well, just tell her you’re bisexual.”
It still amazed her how casually that crossed his lips. Her own father had never had such an easy time with it. “No. I can’t do that.”
“Why not? Want me to tell her?” He took a step toward the back.
She grabbed his sleeve and held on. “No! She’ll think you want to set us up or something.”
“And that would be bad…why? As we just established, my niece inherited my good looks. And since she stepped into the Bächle, she’s destined to marry someone from Freiburg.” He winked at her. “You could be the lucky girl.”
“No, thanks.” Anja bit her tongue before she could tell Nobby she liked her partners less overbearing and abrupt. “Please don’t say anything. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” After all, it wasn’t as if she’d have to interact with Susanne again. From what Anja had heard about her from Nobby, she was pretty busy and probably wouldn’t stay around for long. Anja would give her a polite nod any time she dropped in to take a break from her sightseeing, and after a few days, she’d be gone.
Susanne swept into the sales area and strode toward the front door like a woman on a mission. “I saw a shoe store on my way here. I’m going to get myself something dry to wear, and then I’ll be right back to take a look at the books.”
Before Nobby or Anja could answer, the door closed behind her.
Anja stared after her as she marched up the street, giving the Bächle to her left a wide berth. “Look at the books? She means the notebooks, right?” She pointed at the rows of Moleskins and Leuchtturms. “Or is she looking for travel guides about Freiburg?”
Nobby ran both hands through his hair in a useless attempt to get it to lie flat against his head. “Uh, no. She’s not here for sightseeing. Her mother asked her to, um, help out in the store for a while.”
A sinking feeling swept over Anja. “Help out for a while?”
“Just until Easter.”
That meant Susanne would be staying not for three days, but for nearly three months. “But why? You and I have things well in hand.”
“Of course, but…” Nobby looked away to turn one of the leather-bound journals on the island display a little more to the left. “Sometimes it’s just nice to have a fresh set of eyes, you know?”
A fresh set of eyes? Why the heck would they need that—especially if it came with an attitude attached? She tugged on his sleeve so he would look at her. “What’s going on, Nobby? Why didn’t you tell me sooner your niece would be coming?” Keeping secrets from her wasn’t like him at all.
He kept his gaze on the journals and touched the leather as if to ground himself. “I didn’t want to say anything, but—”
The chime of the bell above the door announced their first customer of the day.
Nobby put on a welcoming smile and bounded toward the woman as if she were another long-lost relative.
The customer took forever to look around. She seemed to leaf through every single notebook in the store and then asked to try out some fountain pens.
Normally, Anja would have proudly presented each of their fine writing instruments, but now she impatiently waited until the woman finally left—after having bought just a cheap notebook and a single pencil.
As soon as she opened her mouth to talk to Nobby, the bell jingled again and Susanne returned, wearing a shiny pair of new black boots. “We’ll be in the office,” she said to Anja as she walked past and pulled Nobby with her. “Can you keep an eye on the store?”
The door closed behind them before Anja could answer. Who the heck died and made her queen of the universe? Nobby had said she was here to help out, not to order people around as if she were the boss. Apparently, his niece hadn’t gotten the message. She hoped this kind of attitude wouldn’t be going on for the next three months.
No matter what the superstition said, if any local girl ended up marrying this woman, it definitely wouldn’t be her.
Chapter 3
By the time Susanne made it back to her temporary apartment south of the city center, darkness had fallen, and she could barely make out the shapes of the beautiful Art Nouveau villas with their ornamental facades in the neighborhood.
She entered the building and unlocked the door of her spacious apartment on the first floor. Her steps echoed through the nearly empty dining room and the kitchen, which was separated from it by two arched doorways.
The fridge was just as bare as the rest of the apartment. Guess it’ll be muesli for dinner.
At least there were no moving boxes cluttering the space, since she had brought only a couple of suitcases, duffel bags, and one box of stuff for the kitchen. She had figured that the less she took, the less she would need to lug back once her exile was over.
Without any furniture, the dining room was kind of depressing, so she grabbed her bowl of muesli and wandered into the living room, which wasn’t quite as bare since she had taken over a recliner and a coffee table from the previous tenant.
The hardwood floor creaked softly beneath her boots. After she had been gone all day, the air in the room had gone stale, so she opened the French doors that led to the garden she shared with the building’s other tenants. The air was cool, but at least it had stopped raining.
She stood in the doorway and inhaled the scent of the wet grass.
An owl hooted from a tree at the edge of the property. No sounds of passing cars interrupted the peaceful atmosphere—only the ravenous growling of her stomach. She hadn’t made time for lunch. Instead, she had gobbled down some peanuts while poring over Uncle Norbert’s business ledgers and bank statements. What she had seen had ruined her appetite anyway. Her uncle was just as bad of a businessman as his brother. Paper Love was in big trouble. The store hadn’t turned a profit in years. It barely made enough to cover payroll and utilities, much less the other monthly bills. Uncle Norbert had used his personal money to help keep the store afloat, but he couldn’t keep doing that. If she didn’t find a way to turn things around soon, Paper Love would be going under.
Maybe it would be for the best. Why cling to a store that was doomed just for sentimental reasons? Her uncle could sell off the stock and start anew with something else—or enjoy his much-deserved pension. But they weren’t at that point yet. Susanne wasn’t one for giving up without putting up one hell of a fight. She’d start by taking inventory of the stock and taking a closer look at the products the store sold tomorrow.
A sigh escaped her as she kicked off her boots, stripped off her socks, and sank into the recliner. A blister had formed on her heel where the new leather had rubbed against her foot all day.
Perfect. Just perfect. From the moment she’d arrived in this city, nothing had gone right.
She put her aching feet up on the ottoman and set the bowl on her lap. But when she went to dig into the muesli, she realized she’d forgotten to grab a spoon.
Groaning, she heaved herself up, put the bowl onto the coffee table, and limped into the kitchen.
When she returned with the spoon, a cool gust from the still-open French doors hit her. She shivered and went to close them. As she stepped past the recliner, movement caught her eye.
She whirled around, the spoon raised as if she could chase off the intruder with it.
Instead of the burglar she had expected, a white-and-brown tabby cat stood on her recliner, its front paws on the coffee table, lapping up the milk from her muesli.
“What the hell? Where did you come from?”
At the sound of her voice, the cat turned its head and looked at her. A brown stripe across its nose made it look admittedly cute, but Susanne wouldn’t let that sway her. She stabbed her finger in the direction of the open French doors. “Out!”
The cat meowed and went back to enjoying her milk.
“Wow. You’ve got some nerve, kitty
.” It was well-nourished and its fur gleamed with health, so Susanne knew it wasn’t a starving stray. Since she couldn’t eat the muesli anymore, she decided to let the cat finish its stolen meal. “Just this once. Don’t think this is going to turn into a bed-and-breakfast for the next three months.”
When the cat had lapped up the rest of the milk, it withdrew its front paws from the coffee table, curled up on the recliner, and started to clean its whiskers.
“Oh no, you don’t.” She reached for the cat to pick it up and carry it outside.
The cat let out a hiss and curled into an even tighter ball so she couldn’t get a hold of it.
Not that she would have tried again. With the kind of luck she was having today, she’d probably get the hell scratched out of her.
“This is ridiculous.” She was standing in the middle of her nearly empty living room, her bare feet getting cold, and her stomach was still growling because a cat had eaten her dinner. “Okay, I’m giving you an option here. Are you listening?”
The cat’s ears flicked in her direction, so she took that as a yes.
“Either you go back outside voluntarily, or I’ll, um…” Yeah, or you’ll do what? Call the police to tell them to come arrest this dangerous intruder? She snorted. “Or I’ll have to find a way to get you to leave, and trust me, you won’t like it.”
The cat didn’t move.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She grabbed the back of the recliner and pushed the piece of furniture with its furry occupant across the hardwood floor toward the French doors.
Her feline visitor let out a startled hiss.
“I told you, you wouldn’t like it.” When she reached the step leading down to the garden, she tilted the recliner.
The cat slid off the leather seat and landed on the tiled patio. It gave Susanne a disgruntled look.
Quickly, Susanne pushed the recliner out of the way and closed the door before the cat could sneak back inside. Through the glass, she gave the feline a victorious grin. “Mission accomplished!”