Annie And The Prince. Elizabeth Harbison

      Chapter Three

      The hotel her new employer had suggested for Annie was exquisite. Decorated with antiques and overlooking the charming street below, it was the most comfortable room Annie had stayed in since arriving in Europe. It was also about half the price of the overpriced modest room with plastic cube furniture she’d rented in Munich.

      She sat in a wingback chair by the window and thought about the upcoming year. Watching the people on the street—apple-cheeked women carrying paper bags of bread and produce, children running behind them in what looked more like homemade clothes than the designer wear the students at Pendleton preferred—Annie thought she could stay in Lassberg forever. Until today, she hadn’t realized such a place still existed in the world.

      What was it going to be like to stay? she wondered. Would she make friends outside of the household? Could she have a social life somehow?

      Would she ever see Hans again?

      She tried to squelch the thought. After all, she knew he lived in this small city. How could they not run into each other at some point?

      And if they did, what would she say?

      Hans, hello, I hope you weren’t upset by my evil twin on the train. Sometimes she speaks out of turn.

      But she hadn’t spoken out of turn, she felt strongly about everything she’d said.

      Perhaps she would just pretend there had been no acrimony.

      Hans! How great to see you again! Would you like to go for a cup of coffee?

      Or would that be too forward?

      Finally she decided that if she saw him again, she would probably melt at his feet and not have to worry about what to say at all. He could speak first. She was much better at responding than at improvising the first words.

      Across the square a steeple clock began to ring the hour. Five o’clock. As if on cue, small flurries of snow began to drift down from the clouds. Annie watched in amazement, her heart full. It felt like a miracle, and she wished there was someone to share it with. Green eyes came to mind, and gleaming dark hair, but she pushed the thought of the man away.

      She watched, and dreamed, for perhaps fifteen minutes. The street had a thin veil of white over it. Finally she stood up and stretched. It was time to eat. Incredibly, the meal was included with the price of the room. As she’d gotten into the cage elevator she could have sworn she smelled Swiss Cheese Fondue. Her mouth watered just thinking about it.

      She went to her suitcase and took out a sweater and some warm pants. Perhaps she’d walk through the town after dinner, and try to acquaint herself with the layout.

      The meal was, indeed, a rich fondue. The cook had made fresh bread minutes before Annie had gone to eat, and the yeasty-cheesy scent in the dining room was as warming as an eiderdown comforter. She ate hungrily, devouring the faintly nutty-flavored Gruyère cheese fondue, the crisp green salad, and not one but two cups of warm chocolate pudding. The cook had been delighted to see her eating so heartily.

      Afterwards, she took a long, leisurely walk through the town. It was even lovelier than she’d thought, with several wooden toy shops, a clock maker, a lively corner pub where people were playing darts, and several other Dickensian-looking shops. She imagined herself taking this walk every night after dinner. Then she imagined herself at dinner with Hans across the table. Better still, she imagined sitting on the woolen rug in front of the fire with Hans…or lying on the rug in front of the fire with Hans…The thought raised gooseflesh on her arms.