Until Vienna (Romance on the Orient Express)

by Heather B. Moore

  “No.” Gigi raised her hand. “We are friends, that is all.” She should be annoyed—her aunt wasn’t letting this drop—but she felt no annoyance. How could she? There were more important things to worry about.

  “Well, I, for one, wouldn’t be opposed to a match between the two of you.”

  “I think you’ve made that clear.”

  Aunt Rowena chuckled. “I believe you’re right.” She sobered and said, “Now, tell me what’s troubling you. You look like you haven’t slept.”

  Gigi looked down at her clasped hands. “Professor Haskins knows you’re sick. He guessed and now . . .” She looked up at her aunt.

  “Now he wants to send me home to the doctor?”

  “No,” Gigi rushed to say. “Nothing like that. He only offered his services. Whatever we need.”

  Aunt Rowena gave a thoughtful nod. “He’s a good man through and through. But my decision still stands. And my wish right now is that we move on from this conversation. I already made this decision, and it’s not up for debate.”

  Gigi nodded.

  “Now, off with you,” Aunt Rowena said. “Even a blind bat could see that you need sleep.”

  Gigi rose to her feet and kissed her aunt’s cheek, then walked to her bedroom on the other side of the suite. As she climbed into the bed and pulled the covers over her, the exhaustion seemed to multiply all at once. She was grateful that her aunt hadn’t been too upset that Professor Haskins knew about her condition.

  Her last thought before she drifted off to sleep was how nice it was when Professor Haskins had hugged her. She’d felt truly comforted. And she hoped that nothing would ever happen to change their friendship.

  ChapteR ThirteeN

  Dear Lillian,

  Our final day in Vienna was more than perfect. We leave in just a few hours on the Orient Express for Bucharest. I can hardly believe that I am now a world traveler. Using the names of these cities in conversation and knowing that I’ve been there is a heady feeling. Aunt Rowena’s ankle is on the mend, and she is excellent at ordering everyone around—not that she ever had trouble in the first place.

  I know that I’ve mentioned Professor Haskins in nearly all of my letters, but I just learned that he knows three other languages fluently. I’m astounded. Can you guess which ones? Since you’re not in the same room as me, I’ll tell you: English. Fooling there—that one doesn’t count, right? French, German, and . . . Hungarian. I would have never guessed Hungarian in a hundred years. But apparently, his great-grandmother is from Hungary, so he took it upon himself to learn the language. Even though he’s never met her . . .

  “Anyone need anything from any of the shops?” the professor asked as the tour group lounged in the lobby. Their luggage was already on the way to the train station, and everyone was either visiting the shops or relaxing in the hotel lobby before their transportation arrived.

  “I’ve outwalked myself today,” Irene said, draping her arm over her brow.

  Professor Haskins smiled. “All right then. Mrs. Martin is out. Anyone else interested?”

  Aunt Rowena had been a trooper all day, but now she was keeping her foot propped on a stool while she sat in a plush lounge chair.

  “Blanche and Georgina should go,” Irene said with a sigh. “Fetch me some of the divine Austrian chocolate.”

  Gigi wanted to laugh, and she saw the amusement in the professor’s eyes too.

  “If I go into one more shop, I’ll be broke,” Blanche said with a smile so everyone knew she was teasing. “Rowena and Georgina should go.”

  “I’m perfectly comfortable,” Aunt Rowena stated. “Georgina, you should go pick out something for yourself. You’ve only bought gifts for your sister and mother. Besides, the professor can’t go alone.”

  Gigi didn’t answer, didn’t move. Was her aunt really endorsing, or encouraging, her to go alone with the professor? Of course, they wouldn’t technically be alone. People were in every shop and all over the streets. She could feel the professor’s gaze upon her, watching, waiting for her decision.

  She rose to her feet. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t let a walk through Vienna go to waste. How many times can I say that in my life?”

  Aunt Rowena chuckled. “Not many, dear. Enjoy yourselves, and we’ll see you soon. We can’t miss the train, mind you.”

  “Never.” Gigi bade farewell to the other women, then walked with the professor out of the hotel. The afternoon had advanced enough that the heat had simmered down, and the cooling breeze stirred the bottom of her skirt.

  Without a word, the professor offered his arm, and Gigi rested her hand in the crook of his elbow. This casual walking with him was becoming so familiar to her.

  Their first stop was a toymaker shop. “We’re going in here?” Gigi asked.

  “We sure are.” Professor Haskins opened the door for her.

  Gigi stepped inside what she could only describe as a fairy-tale world. Toys, dolls, puppets, board games, and sweets filled every nook and cranny of the store. A hooting sound came from above, and she looked up to see a miniature train on a miniature track chugging near the ceiling.

  She turned in a slow circle, feeling like she was a small child in a candy shop who was just told she could buy something.

  “This is amazing,” she said as she faced the professor again.

  He grinned. “I’m glad you think so. Every time I come to Vienna, I visit this shop and add to my collection.”

  “What are you collecting?”

  “Come and see.” The professor moved deeper into the shop, where a tiny woman stood behind a cash register, apparently absorbed in a thick book. She glanced up at them, nodded once, then returned to her book.

  “Look,” Professor Haskins said, drawing Gigi to a stop. He picked up a small train car that was similar to the running train above them. The car he held in his hands was painted bright blue and had sticks inside to represent tiny logs.

  “You’re building your own train?” Gigi said, marveling at the exacting detail of the train car.

  “I am,” he said. “I have eight cars now, and this will be number nine.”

  “I love them,” she said, and she did. Their miniature perfection was enchanting. “How do you limit yourself to only buying one at a time? I’d want the whole train set at once.”

  “That takes the fun out of collecting,” he said in a lowered tone, as if he didn’t want the shopkeeper to overhear. “In fact, I don’t think it would be considered collecting at all. More like . . .”

  “Buying?”

  “Correct.”

  She loved his smile, his wit, his caring concern, his thoughtfulness . . . and how he bought a single train car each time he was in Vienna.

  “You should start collecting something,” he said. “From this very shop. You have a wide array of choices.”

  “But they’re all toys . . .” She winced. “I didn’t mean—”

  “I know what you meant,” he said, his smile soft. “Look around. See what you think. I don’t think the fräulein would mind.”

  Gigi stifled a laugh. “Maybe I will.” She moved among the displays, picking up a few things, considering. Her eyes were continuously drawn to a set of teacups. Children’s teacups, to be sure, but they were delicately painted and simply irresistible. Lillian would laugh at Gigi if she showed up at home with this purchase.

  “Buy it,” Professor Haskins whispered next to her ear.

  She flinched at his unexpected nearness; she’d been so lost in her own thoughts. When she turned to face him, he didn’t give her very much space. Not that she minded. Well, she should mind, but she didn’t. “I never had a teacup set as a little girl,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe it would, oh, I don’t know, make me feel . . .” She had no idea what she was saying.

  “Happy?” The professor picked up one of the teacups. The
rosebud painted on the side was surrounded by pale green leaves. “If a child’s teacup brings you happiness, then I think you must have it.” His gaze shifted to hers. “I’ll buy it for you.”

  “Oh, no,” she said. “I couldn’t let you do that. I’ll buy it.”

  He hesitated, then said, “All right. Let’s go ring up our purchases so we don’t run out of time.”

  There were still two hours at least before they had to return to the hotel. “Why would we run out of time? What are you planning, Professor?”

  “Clyde,” he said in a whisper. “When it’s just us, call me Clyde.”

  Gigi glanced at the shopkeeper, then met the professor’s gaze again. “All right, Clyde. What are you planning?”

  He grinned. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  She wanted to slug his arm, but he moved past her too quickly. Soon they’d both bought their collector’s items, and the professor—Clyde—tucked the bundle under one arm, then offered her his other arm.

  “I can’t believe I’m an official collector,” she said. “It feels exhilarating.”

  She felt his smile before she heard his laugh—a laugh she was beginning to count on, to rely on, and to look forward to.

  As they walked along the cobblestone road, Gigi absorbed the peace of their surroundings, studied the shops and homes, and observed the people they passed.

  “I could live here,” she announced.

  Clyde looked at her with a half smile. “Is that so?”

  “I mean, I’d have to learn German, of course,” she said. “But I’m sure living in Vienna would only help me learn it faster.”

  “You have a point there,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “And I could visit you each time I’m in Vienna, a sort of a reunion between friends.”

  Friends . . . There was that word again. “Of course. You could stop by my home and view my growing collection of children’s teacups.”

  “Ah, so you are already picking out your home, are you?”

  “Why yes,” she said, stifling a laugh. “It will be on this road.”

  Professor Haskins slowed his step, which meant she slowed as well. He was grinning now. “Which house are you speaking of? Just so I know where to come visit you and your, uh, teacups.”

  She pointed across the street to a charming blue-and-yellow home nestled tight between two other homes. “It will likely be that one. I just have to convince the owner to sell it to me.”

  The professor chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble. Let’s hope he, or she, speaks some English.”

  Gigi wrinkled her nose. “Let’s hope.”

  They continued to walk, and soon, the professor drew her to a stop again. “This is our second stop,” he said, guiding her to a bakery.

  At least it looked like a bakery from the outside, but inside, it was . . . heaven.

  “Chocolate,” Gigi breathed. And that was an understatement. The shop was a chocolatier, and an exquisite one at that. A long glass counter stretched across one side of the shop and tiny lights illuminated the delectable creations.

  “Heavens,” Gigi murmured as she peered into the case, with its rows of chocolate perfection. “Does it taste as good as it looks?”

  “Better.” The professor nodded to the shopkeeper, a long, skinny fellow with an impressive mustache.

  The shopkeeper slid open one side of the case and held his glinting silver tongs over the array of choices.

  The professor pointed to one of the trays, and the shopkeeper removed a dark-chocolate truffle with a pink-laced frosting design.

  When he set it in front of Gigi, the shopkeeper produced a small silver knife. Slowly, he cut the truffle in two, then stood back.

  “Try it,” the professor said.

  “It’s too pretty to eat,” Gigi said, but her hand had a mind of its own. Before she knew it, she’d picked up one half of the truffle and popped it into her mouth.

  Professor Haskins smiled, picked up the other half, and put the piece into his mouth.

  Their gazes connected, then Gigi’s eyes slid shut. Chocolate this rich and creamy deserved every bit of her focus. She couldn’t look at anything or allow for any distraction. It was just her and the taste buds on her tongue wondering how one might live in Vienna and visit this shop every single day for the rest of her life.

  She savored the magnificent flavor, then finally, slowly opened her eyes.

  The professor was watching her, a half smile on his face, his hazel eyes amused. “You show your feelings when you eat something you love.”

  “And I loved that truffle.” She was blushing. From chocolate? Or because of the man who was so carefully and slowly becoming part of her heart?

  Professor Haskins turned to the shopkeeper. “We’ll take two dozen wrapped in two parts.”

  Before Gigi could speak, he lifted his hand as if to stop any argument. “Your aunt and her friends must try them. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes, otherwise I would eat them all.”

  The professor smiled. “We still have others to try.”

  And they did. Gigi sampled other types of chocolate, and although it was all divine, nothing compared to the truffles. Once the shopkeeper rang up their order—which the professor paid for entirely—they headed out into the warm sunshine.

  “This could possibly be the best day of my life,” Gigi said.

  Professor Haskins chuckled.

  “Oh, did I say that aloud?”

  “You did.”

  She linked arms with him as they began to stroll. “I think I’d better carry the sack with the chocolates to keep them safe.”

  The professor handed over the sack. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  ChapteR FourteeN

  Dear Lillian,

  Prepare yourself. Upon my arrival home, you will taste heaven itself. Professor Haskins and I found the best chocolatier shop. I’m bringing the truffles home for you to taste. I’ll just have to find a way to keep them preserved—as in, to not eat them all beforehand.

  We’ve left beautiful Vienna, and I plan on taking up German studies the moment I return home. I am determined to one day revisit Vienna. I have no idea when, but it is now my dream. I hope I’m not boring you with stories about the professor, but I discovered he is a collector—of toy trains. Imagine. And he’s been quite influential apparently because I’ve decided to collect children’s teacups. We found a charming toy shop . . .

  Gigi went to bed with a smile on her face, but hours later, she awoke with a start in the darkness of the train compartment. They were on their way to Bucharest. The sounds she heard were familiar: the motion of the train and the faint rumble that had become strangely soothing. So what had awakened her?

  Then she heard a soft groan.

  “Aunt Rowena?” Gigi sat up and pushed her covers aside. The only light came from the thin crack of the doorway. But it was hardly enough to see anything. She reached for the gas lamp on the table where she knew it was. Moments later, the compartment was bathed in soft light.

  Aunt Rowena lay in bed, her back turned to Gigi. She’d kicked off her covers, and she looked like a small, huddled child.

  Another moan sent Gigi scrambling across the room. She placed a hand on her aunt’s shoulder. “What is it? Did you have a bad dream? Are you ill?”

  Her aunt didn’t speak but only moaned again.

  Gigi’s heart hammered, and she leaned over to place a hand on her aunt’s forehead. Her skin felt like fire. “Do you want some water?” She turned to search for the glass of water that she filled each night for her aunt. Locating it, she sat next to her. “Here, try some water.”

  Aunt Rowena turned her head, and Gigi nearly recoiled at the sickly paleness of her aunt’s face.

  Gigi slipped one hand behind her aunt’s neck and helped lift her head to
take a sip of water. Only one sip.

  “Can you drink more?” Gigi asked.

  Aunt Rowena shook her head, then winced.

  “What’s wrong? Is it your stomach? Your head?”

  “Everything,” her aunt whispered. “I’m too hot, then too cold, and I feel like my limbs are made of stone. I can barely move.”

  “I will alert the conductor,” Gigi said, setting the glass on the small table. “There has to be someone on board who can help. Perhaps a doctor.”

  Aunt Rowena looked as if she wanted to say something. Instead, her eyes slid shut, and she exhaled.

  Please be well, Gigi thought as she pulled on a robe and tied it close. There was no time for dressing or doing up her hair. She slipped out of the compartment, her worry pushing against her throat. Looking left, she saw that the conductor’s post was abandoned. Where had he gone? Surely he was nearby. She decided to head to the dining car. Perhaps someone else was awake. Otherwise, she’d need to enter another train car corridor to find the conductor. In the worst case, she’d have to begin knocking on compartment doors and rousing other passengers.

  Gigi clutched her robe about her as she hurried along the corridor. She entered the dining car to find it empty, save for a lone man sitting at one of the tables, his attention focused on a newspaper. His all-black attire and smokeless pipe made her recognize him instantly.

  Nicholas.

  “Sir, can you help me?” she rushed to say.

  His chin snapped up. He stared at her for a second, then stood abruptly. “Vhat is it, Miss Ballard?”

  “It’s my aunt. She’s ill with a fever and looks frightfully pale.” Gigi swallowed. “She’s . . . she might have cancer, but I don’t know if that’s what’s wrong right now or—”

  “A doctor is on zeh train,” Nicholas said, crossing to her. “I’ll find out his compartment number from zeh conductor and bring him to your aunt right away.”

  Gigi wanted to sag with relief, to cry with happiness, but she had to get back to her aunt. “Thank you, sir. Thank you. I can’t express how much—”