He asked the bartender and it was no surprise when hegot a laugh in response. So, we left the pub to go exploring—on our hunt for my hot chocolate.
I’ve had men ask me out throughout my lifetime. Some have even brought me flowers or gifts. Danny did his share in the early months of our relationship to impress me and to show his growing attraction to me. But I’ve never felt so cherished and spoiled as I did when Ace made it his sole purpose in life to find me the warm drink I was craving in Munich.
We walked into the area west of Karlstor where the streets took on a more modern look with commercial-grade pavers evenly spaced around the tram lines and tram wires running overhead. The buildings were still reminiscent of the older architecture, only with more glass and clean lines, but the same European feel.
We weren’t in a rush, but Ace was quieter, his eyes searching for the perfect spot to get my drink for me. I shivered slightly and he instinctively wrapped his arm around me. It could have been a gesture of friendship or simple kindness, but it felt like more, and the idea of a cup of chocolate felt almost unnecessary as long as he kept me tucked into his side.
We came across a bakery. Technically, it wasn’t open yet. We stepped under an awning and peered through one of the plate glass windows. Two workers were inside, preparing for the day to come. Ace rapped on the glass pane of the wood door. One of the workers, an older woman, round and soft with pink cheeks and warm eyes, looked up and smiled at us.
She left her work and approached the door.
When she opened it, Ace simply said, “Hallo. Meine Freundin braucht heiße Schokolade.”
I glanced up at him, smiling, but his eyes were on the baker.
I knew enough German to know he had chosen a word that could mean either girlfriend or friend, and it was obviousthe storekeeper thought Ace and I were two people in love, out late at night looking for hot chocolate.
I’ll never forget her smile as she opened the door wide and shouted something in German to the other woman in the shop.
The bakery smelled of warmth and yeast—as if the scents were baked into the very walls. The other worker was lifting large silver trays that clattered when they met the racks.
The store interior was simple and functional, but it felt like we had entered our own private hearth.
I guessed the baker didn’t make a habit of opening her doors before business hours. She stepped behind the counter and, in English, but with a thick German accent, she said, “You will also need a Butterbrezel and Apfeltasche. Ja?”
Ace nodded and smiled one of his naturally charming smiles in her direction. “Yes. A pretzel and an apple turnover are exactly what we need.”
Chapter 11
Hallie
I do not see as well without her. I do not hear as well without her.
I do not feel as well without her. I would be better off
without a hand or a leg than without my sister.
~ Erin Morgenstern
I pull up in front of a Victorian home in a section of town just outside Downtown Waterford. The carved wood sign in the front lawn hangs on a wooden pole:The Dogwood House. Someone converted the upstairs of this old home into a bed-and-breakfast and the downstairs into a tea room. Leave it to Avery to find the sweetest spot for lunch. I would have picked Judy’s Diner since that’s where the guys at the station sometimes go.
I pull the key from the ignition and lean back in the driver’s seat. My shoulders feel like they’re straining to touch one another. I hadn’t even noticed until now.
Inside the front door, a hostess stands at a wooden pedestal. “May I help you?” she asks. But then she immediatelyadds. “Oh! You’re Hallie! The new firefighter. Your sister’s right over there. Follow me.”
Avery spots me and waves from her place at a small circular table near a back window. The wainscotted wall behind her is topped with a floral wallpaper that extends up to crown molding and a hammered tin ceiling.
“This place is darling!” I say, taking the seat across from Avery and accepting the menu from the hostess.
“Enjoy your lunch,” the hostess says with a smile.
“I knew you’d love it,” Avery says. “You deserve something girly in your life.”
“And living with Mom and Mia doesn’t count?” I say with a teasing smile.
“Not even close.”
We order the house salad and soup of the day, and the waitress brings out a basket of bread that’s filled with an assortment of herbed breads like a rosemary focaccia and soft breads like cranberry loaf.
