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There was nothing like this in Australia. Nothing. A lump lodged in her throat. She’d never seen anything more beautiful.
‘If you like those you should go to Paris. They have green domes enough to gladden every soul.’
No. She forced her legs forward again. She was exactly where she ought to be.
When they entered the town square, full of bustle and people on this bright chilly morning, and made their way to its centre even Flynn was quiet for a moment. ‘That’s really something,’ he finally said.
All Addie could do was nod. Gothic architecture, sweeping spires, gargoyles and a glockenspiel were all arrayed in front of her. ‘What more could one want from a town hall?’ she breathed.
On cue, the glockenspiel rang out a series of notes. She and Flynn shared a glance and then folded their arms and stood shoulder to shoulder to watch. Addie had to keep closing her mouth as the jesters jested, the couples danced and the knights duelled. She watched as if in a dream, Flynn’s shoulder solid against hers reminding her that this was all for real. She soaked it in, marvelled at it, her heart expanding with gratitude. The show lasted for fifteen minutes, and, despite the cold and the sore neck from craning upwards, she could’ve watched for another fifteen.
She spun to Flynn. ‘Can you imagine how amazed the first people who ever saw that must’ve been? It would have been the height of technology at the time and—’
She suddenly realised she was holding his arm and, in her enthusiasm, was squeezing it. With a grimace and a belated pat of apology, she let it go. ‘Sorry, got carried away.’ It certainly wasn’t dainty to pull your boss’s arm out of its socket.
His lips twitched.
No, no—she didn’t want to amuse him. She wanted to impress him.
She gestured back to the glockenspiel. ‘And they call that the New Town Hall. I mean, it’s gothic and—’
He turned her ninety degrees to face back the way they’d come. ‘Oh!’ A breath escaped her. ‘And that would be the Old Town Hall and as it’s medieval then I guess that makes sense.’
She turned a slow circle trying to take it all in.
‘What do you think?’
He sounded interested in her impression. She wondered if he was merely humouring her. ‘I can’t believe how beautiful it all is.’ She turned back to the New Town Hall and her stomach plummeted. An ache started up in her chest. ‘Oh,’ she murmured. ‘I forgot.’
‘Forgot what?’
‘That it’s Christmas.’
‘Addie, there’re decorations everywhere, not to mention a huge Christmas tree right there. How could you forget?’
She’d been too busy taking in the breathtaking architecture and the strangeness of it all. She lifted a shoulder. ‘It’s been such a rush this last week.’ What with signing the contract to sell Lorna Lee’s and preparing for the trip, Christmas had been the last thing on her mind.
Christmas. Her first ever Christmas away from Lorna Lee’s. Her first Christmas without her father.
The ache stretched through her chest. If her father were still alive they’d have decorated their awful plastic tree—loaded it with tinsel and coloured balls and tiny aluminium bells and topped it with a gaudy angel. She’d be organising a ham and a turkey roll and—
A touch on her arm brought her back with a start. ‘Where did you just go?’
His eyes were warm and soft and they eased the ache inside her. She remembered the way his eyes had blazed when she’d asked him if he knew what it was like to want something so terribly badly.
Yes, he’d known. She suspected he’d understand this too. ‘The ghost of Christmases past,’ she murmured. ‘It’s the first Christmas without my father.’
His face gentled. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I’ve been doing my best not to think about it.’ She stared across at the giant decorated tree that stood out at the front of the New Town Hall. ‘I’m glad I’m spending Christmas here this year rather than on the farm.’
He nodded.
She turned back to him. ‘Are your parents still alive?’
‘My father isn’t.’
Her lungs cramped at the desolation that momentarily stretched through his eyes. ‘I’m sorry.’
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat. ‘It was a long time ago.’
‘Your mother?’
‘My mother and I are estranged.’
She grimaced and shoved her hands into her pockets too. ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ She shouldn’t have pressed him.
He shrugged as if it didn’t make an ounce of difference to him, but she didn’t believe that for a moment. ‘She’s a difficult woman.’
She pushed her shoulders back. ‘Then we’ll just have to have our own orphans’ Christmas in Munich.’
He opened his mouth. She waited but he closed it again. She cleared her throat, grimaced and scratched a hand through her hair. ‘I, the thing is, I’ve just realised in the rush of it all that I haven’t bought presents for the people back home.’
He stared down at her for three beats and then he laughed as if she’d shaken something loose from him. ‘Addie, that’s not going to be a problem. Haven’t you heard about the Munich Christmas markets?’
‘Markets?’ She wanted to jump up and down. ‘Really?’
‘Some are held in this very square. You’ll find presents for everyone.’
‘There’ll be time for that?’ She could send the gifts express post to make sure they arrived on time. Hang the expense.
‘Plenty of time.’
She folded her arms and surveyed him. ‘When are you going to tell me what your business in Munich is?’
‘Come right this way.’ He took her arm and set off past the New Town Hall. They passed what looked like the main shopping area. She slanted a glance up at him. ‘We’ll still be in Munich for the post-Christmas sales, right?’
‘Never stand in the way of a woman and the sales. Don’t worry; you’ll have time to shop.’
Cool.
She shook herself. That was all well and good, but when were they in fact going to do any work?
Eventually he stopped, let go of her arm and pointed. She peered at the building he gestured to. It took her a moment, but... ‘Ooh, a beer hall! Can we...? I mean, is it too early...?’
‘It’s nearly midday. C’mon.’ He ushered her inside.
The interior was enormous and filled with wooden tables and benches. He led her to a table by the wall, where they had a perfect view of the rest of the room. He studied the menu and ordered them both beers in perfect German.
She stared at her glass when it was set down in front of her—her very tall glass. ‘Uh, Flynn, you ordered me half a litre of beer?’
‘We could’ve ordered it by the litre if you’d prefer.’
Her jaw dropped as a barmaid walked past with three litre tankards in one hand and two in the other.
‘Bottoms up!’
He sounded younger than she’d ever heard him. She raised her glass. ‘Cheers.’
She took a sip and closed her eyes in bliss. ‘Nectar from the gods. Now tell me what we’re drinking to?’
‘This—’ he gestured around ‘—is what we’re doing here.’
It took a moment. When she realised what he meant she set her glass down and leaned towards him. ‘You’re buying the beer hall?’ A grin threatened to split her face in two. That had to be every Australian boy’s dream.
How perfectly perfect!
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_cf610759-92b7-557e-9665-85bf2ae21b2b)
Dear Daisy
Munich is amazing. Gorgeous. And so cold! After a couple of hours out my face burned when I came back inside as if it were sunburned. Everything here is so different from Mudgee. I know it’s not Paris, but it’s marvellous just the same.
You know, it got me thinking about starting the blog back up, but...I’d simply be searching for something I can’t have. Again.
You should be here in Europe with me. You should... Sorry, enough of that. Guess what? I finally found out what we’re doing here. The perfectly perfect F is buying a brewery that has its own beer hall! How exciting is that?
We have our very first business meeting at eleven o’clock this morning. I’m going to wear that gorgeous garnet-coloured suit I bought in Sydney when we went to see Cate Blanchett at the theatre that time. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do in said meeting, but in that suit I’ll at least look the part!
Wish you were here.
Love, Buttercup
ADDIE EXITED HER Till the Cows Come Home Word document, closed the lid of her laptop and resisted the urge to snuggle back beneath the covers. It was only seven a.m. She could sneak in another hour of shut-eye. Flynn had said he didn’t need to see her until quarter to eleven in his room, where the meeting was scheduled to take place, but...
She was in Munich!
She leapt out of bed, smothering a yawn. A brisk walk down by the River Isar would be just the thing. She wanted her body clock on Munich time asap. What she didn’t want was any more of the crazy disturbed sleep like that she’d had last night.
A walk in Munich would wake her up, enliven her and have her bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for Flynn’s business meeting.
Perfect.
* * *
Addie tried to stifle a yawn as the lawyer droned on and on and on about the conditions of probate and the details of the contract negotiations that were under way, plus additional clauses that would need to be considered, along with local government regulations and demands and...on and on and on.
Did Flynn find this stuff interesting?
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He watched the lawyer narrowly, those blue eyes alert. She sensed the tension coiled up inside him as if he were a stroppy King Brown waiting to strike, even as he leaned back in his seat, the picture of studied ease. She wondered if the lawyer knew.
She shivered, but she couldn’t deny it only made him seem more powerful...and lethal, like a hero from a thriller. It must be beyond brilliant to feel that confident, to have all of that uncompromising derring-do. One could save small children from burning buildings and dive into seething seas to rescue battered shipwreck victims and—
‘Make a note of that, will you, please, Adelaide?’
She crashed back into the room, swallowing. She pulled her notebook towards her without glancing at Flynn and jotted on it.
Am making notes about nothing so as to look efficient. Listen in future, Addie! Pay attention.
She underlined ‘listen’ three times.
Biting back a sigh, she tried to force her attention back to the conversation—the negotiations—but the lawyer was droning on and on in that barely varying monotone. If he’d been speaking German she’d have had a reason for tuning out, but he was speaking English with an American accent and it should’ve had her riveted, but...
For heaven’s sake, the subject matter was so dry and dull that he could’ve had the most gorgeous and compelling voice in the world and she’d still tune out. She mentally scrubbed property developer off her list of potential future jobs. And lawyer.
She glanced at Flynn again. He wore a charcoal business suit and looked perfect. Didn’t he feel the slightest effect from jet lag? Perhaps he really was a machine?
She bit back another sigh. Perhaps he was just a seasoned world traveller who was used to brokering million-dollar deals.
The figures these two were bandying about had almost made her eyes pop. She’d wanted to tug on Flynn’s sleeve and double-check that he really wanted to invest that much money in a German brewery.
Sure, he was an Aussie guy. Aussie guys—and girls, for that matter—and beer went hand in hand. But there were limits, surely? Even for high-flying Flynn.
Still, she knew what it was like to have a childhood dream. Good luck to him for making his a reality.
She had a sudden vision of him galloping across the fields at Lorna Lee’s on Blossom. She leaned back. Did he really prefer this kind of wheeling and dealing to—?
‘Record that number, please, Adelaide.’
She started and glanced at the lawyer, who barked a series of numbers at her. She scribbled them down. Was it a phone number or a fax number? For all she knew it was a serial number for... She drew a blank. She scrawled a question mark beside it.
In her pocket her phone vibrated. She silently thanked the patron saint of personal assistants for giving her the insight to switch it to silent. She slid it out and her lips lifted. A message from Frank. She clicked on it, eager for news from home.
This man of Flynn’s wants to get rid of Bruce Augustus.
Her hand clenched about the phone. She shot to her feet. ‘Over my dead body!’
The lawyer broke off. Both he and Flynn stared at her. She scowled at Flynn. ‘This foreman of yours and I are going to have serious words.’
He cocked an eyebrow.
She recalled where they were and what they were supposed to be doing and cleared her throat, took her seat again. ‘Later,’ she murmured. ‘We’ll have our serious words later.’
But she messaged back to Frank.
If he does he dies. Text me his number.
Flynn stretched out a long leg, leaning further back in his chair, reminding her even more vividly of a King Brown. Addie pocketed her phone and kept a close eye on him.
