Mr. And Mrs. Schwarz
Dieter Schwarz
Two years later.
Dieter and Flicka stood in the entryway to the cozy suburban house while Suze Meier’s cats rubbed all over their legs.
The tortoiseshell cat seemed to like Dieter’s trousers the best, shedding its three colors of fur onto his legs.
Flicka watched the cat molesting his ankles, while a black cat nuzzled her black slacks.“She should have brought you flowers first.”
Dieter laughed and grabbed Flicka’s hand, bringing her knuckles to his lips for one quick kiss before the chaos started.
Somewhere in the house, a child shrieked, “Mama! Daddy!”
Dieter widened his stance to brace for the coming onslaught.
A tow-headed child rounded the corner of the hallway and barreled straight at them. “Mama!”
He said, “Flicka,be careful—”
Flicka was already on her knees with her arms spread. “Come to Mama, Alina.”
Alina, now four years old, launched herself through the air and flew into Flicka’s arms. She laughed and hugged her child, and both of them giggled like mad.
Flicka got the first hug from Alina, huh?
Biology didn’t count for anything, these days.
Suze Meier walked around the corner, holding a chubbybaby on her hip. “Maximilian did very well while you were gone, but he still resists spinach and other greens. He seems to be accepting broccoli adequately.”
Maximilian Wulfram Schwarz reached his chubby hands into the air, opening and closing his little fists.“Dada.”
Dieter lifted the child out of Suze’s arms and settled his son against his shoulder. Max blinked his gray eyes at Dieter, solemnlybut not sleepily.
He had Dieter’s eyes, sort of. Max’s eyes were a more intense shade of gray than most of the Mirabauds, with paler shades of dove around his pupils.
Dieter said, “We’ll make sure to work on the greens.”
“And I’m not sure how Max has managed to give up naps so soon. That’s not healthy for a thirteen-month-old.”
Dieter glanced down at his feet. This was one of Suze’s commoncomplaints. Max had stopped napping when he was nine months old, about the same time he’d stood up and cruised the furniture. Yes, they had an insomniac, walking baby with his hands free. Babyproofing the house had reached obsessive levels soon after. Even Alina was conscripted to chase Max around and make sure he didn’t do anything insane.
Flicka said, “All kids are different. I hope he wasn’ttoo much trouble.”
“Oh, he’s no trouble. Luckily, he seems to like playing with his stuffed animals in the crib during what should be nap time. Alina has some coloring homework from pre-K that is due on Monday. When will be the next time you to travel, so I can plan?”
Flicka stood up beside Dieter. Alina transferred over to grab at Dieter’s legs, so he handed Max to Flicka so she could kisstheir son hello. “I’m not sure. We should be home for at least a month.”Probably.
Suze frowned at them. “You guys always look so windblown and twitchy when you get back from one of these work trips. What do you do at these conferences?”
Dieter said, “Just some boring business meetings,” just as Flicka said, “Logistics and supply.”
He didn’t dare look at her because they might start crackingup.
At least in theory,logistics and supplywould cover the situation when Flicka had been sitting in an unmarked communications van, supplying weapons and ammunition to a dozen mercenaries and then coordinating the assault on a small, Argentinian compound to rescue two kidnapped children.
Flicka was running the operations, and she was amazing at it. Years of commanding teams of caterers andsuppliers had prepared her to be a Rogue Security general better than any military career. She’d read all of Dieter’s essays and theses on tactics and warfare in undergrad and graduate school, and she’d read many of the books they were based on, too.
