Souvenirs (3 page)

“What does it mean? Is it part of the
Erlking?
”

“No.” He took a deep breath and looked into her deep brown eyes, felt the weight of her hand on his arm. He meant to make it a perfunctory performance, but he was in trouble from the first line. Softly, he recited.

“I am with you,

However far away you may be,

You are next to me!

The sun is setting,

Soon the stars will shine upon me.

If only you were here!”

Impulsively he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and she leaned into him. Returning the book, he clutched her hand. He’d never look at a library the same way again. “We’d better go.”

They emerged into the sunshine, blinking and fumbling for sunglasses. He reached for her, and they went in search of their mothers. Ignoring their sly grins and knowing glances, he hailed a cab and the ladies climbed in. His mother entered last.

“I thought we had a discussion about matchmaking,” Ben whispered.

“We did.”

He kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Mum.”

The older women sat next to each other and left him the spot next to Grace. Now her hand waited on him.

She faced Sunny. “This does not change
our
vacation.”

Ben envied the steel in her voice and tried to emulate it. “The same goes for us, Mother. I’m here to make sure
you
and I have a good time. This is a bonus.” God help him, he was grinning like a wally.

Grace nodded as she continued. “It may not work out altogether. We may hate each other by the time we get to Paris.” Despite her words her grip tightened, and his spirits soared. “But that shouldn’t affect
your
friendship.”

“We’re adults. We can handle this on our own,” Ben said, despite feeling less like an adult than he had in years.

They arrived at the hotel, and Sunny spoke first. “Of course, dear.”

His mother arched her eyebrow. “Does this mean I can’t suggest we all have dinner together?”

The light mood was contagious, and Ben laughed as he handed his mother from the cab. “Dinner sounds wonderful, Mum. I’ll ask the concierge for a suggestion.”

He grasped Sunny’s hand, helped her to the curb, and kept hold of her until she looked up with a wide smile. She squeezed his fingers. “It’s okay with me.”

Grace emerged last, and they walked behind their animated mothers.

“I think that went well.”

She shook her head at his assessment. “They didn’t hear a thing.”

“At least
we
have a good understanding.”

They reached the lifts, and all four walked to the same car even though several opened at once. Grace was right. The older women were already making choices to keep them together.

He allowed Grace her freedom as they reached the Wards’ floor. His
understanding
dissolved when his hand ached without hers in it.

Chapter 3

Meeting at their door seemed too intimate too quickly, never mind that Ben had kissed her in the library. Maybe especially because of that innocent, impulsive kiss. But Grace rethought her decision to meet in the lobby as the elevator doors opened onto a melee. The cacophony echoed from marble floors, columns, and high ceilings. As they wove through the crowd, her mother craned her neck to look at fellow guests.

“I’ll bet they’re on our tour,” Sunny said, sizing up a group of women knotted together as they checked in.

“Probably,” Grace mumbled as she searched for Ben’s dark head and the nearest exit. Relief left her weak when she spotted both at the same time. Propped against a wall, Ben saw them and made for the door, ushering his mother in front of him.

Outside, Grace squinted in the glare of the lighted entrance portico. At least it was quiet. Ben waited next to the taxi’s open door, his white knuckles wrapped around the frame. Over his shoulder, the night closed in. “We could walk,” her mother protested even as she climbed into the cab. “It shouldn’t be far.”

“Let’s plan on walking back,” Grace compromised as she put a hand on Ben’s arm. His muscles were rigid and impressive beneath the soft, brushed cotton of his shirt. “Crowds?”

He nodded and looked down at her fingers where she was stroking the fabric with her thumb.

“Sorry,” she whispered as she jerked her fingers away.

“Don’t be,” he purred. Grace forgot to breathe.

Forcing her feet to work, she ducked into the taxi. Ben followed her, closed the door, and took her hand.

As Sunny had predicted, the drive was short and they stopped in front of a friendly, casual cafe. From the outside, it looked like the mom-and-pop diner where Grace went for catfish dinners at home. The inside was just as welcoming. A round-faced hostess seated them with a jovial suggestion for beer all around. The large steins arrived with their waiter.

“Hello, I’m Phillip.”

Grace decided to continue their adventurous evening. “What would you recommend?” she asked, smiling at the young man.

His mouth fell open as he froze with her stein halfway to the table. After a moment, he resumed service and stammered suggestions, assuring them their meal would be the best they would experience in all of Austria. He stayed next to Grace as he took orders, and then left with a fervent promise to return as quickly as possible.

“I think you have a fan,” Ben teased, grinning. “If you’re not careful, he’ll have you autographing napkins before the night is over.”

Grace fought her panic as she looked into the kitchen. Phillip stared back with a shy grin.

“What on earth would make you think that?” she whispered.

Her mother’s warm hand on her knee helped calm her. “Ben’s only teasing you, Idgie.”

Ben’s glee faded as he tilted his head. “He was smitten with you from the moment you smiled at him, doll.”

Her imaginary fan was forgotten. “Doll?”

He looked as panicked as she’d felt moments earlier. “It’s common in Britain.”

“In America it’s only used in old Jimmy Cagney movies.”

Ben narrowed his eyes, leaned across the table, and slanted his jaw just like the gangsters in movies as he went into character. “What’s your angle, sister? What bank you want me to stick up, who you want killed, and what you want done first?” The impression was almost perfect.

Phillip returned, and his expression wilted when he saw their joined hands. Grace tugged free so the tabletop would be empty.

She regained her composure. None of her book jackets had her picture on them, and no one here would have seen last week’s interview. She was anonymous. She chanted the assurance until she believed it.

Their food arrived, and Phillip’s doting attention kept Ben laughing. They spent their evening drinking excellent beer and eating superb food. Dessert was on the house.

When the locals crowded in, Ben moved his chair to Grace’s side, draped his arm over her shoulders, and whispered translations of stories and conversations. She couldn’t talk for the hammering of her heart, and she hoped her hands weren’t sweaty. Sweet Jesus, she was in serious trouble.

Phillip brought the check and shyly tapped her on the shoulder, motioning for her to follow him to the kitchen. Grace’s stomach plummeted as she stood.

Ben’s hold tightened and his laughter vanished. “Fawning over you is one thing, this is—”

“It’s fine.” She put her hand over his. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Looking over her shoulder, she made sure he stayed seated. If he crashed into the kitchen, her secret would get out, and he’d never want to see her again. Worse, there would be a scene and she and her mother would have to go home before their trip had begun.

Phillip led her to a small office where a teenage girl waited in the open doorway. The young man’s English halted in spots and lilted in others. “My sister Greta, the hostess, suggested it would be best if I talked to you privately. This is my cousin Phoebe. She is here to make sure you are comfortable—that we are not alone.” His blush tinted his face an impossibly darker shade of red. “
Fraulein
Donnelley?”

Despite her intuition, Grace’s head spun.
One interview. One five-minute interview that didn’t even have my name on the screen.

“You are E.G. Donnelley, aren’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

He rapped his fist on the desk and bounced in his chair. “I knew I was right.”

“H-how did you—”

“In your Hulu interview, you knew more about the story than a simple movie executive.” He burrowed in the desk drawer. “I’ve read all your books at the library. I wait for them like Christmas.” The blush returned. “Would you mind an autograph?”

“Not at all. Just . . . no one else can know. Please? I’m on a family vacation. It means so much to my mother.”

“It is our secret,” Phillip whispered. “Phoebe doesn’t even speak English.”

“Thank you.” She scrawled a hasty sentiment on the napkin, giving the autograph Ben had predicted. “Which library do you visit?”

“The National Library.”

Grace fumbled the pen. “
My
books are in there?”

He nodded, as if having her books in a national monument was the most natural thing in the world. Her fingers shook as she handed him the signature. She’d have to send him a book, maybe all of them, for life.

Phillip led her out of the room. As soon as she reached the table, Ben leaped to his feet and shepherded all of them toward the door. Grace evaded him to get a carryout menu and the restaurant’s mailing address. When she emerged, he was glaring at the door from the halo of a street lamp.

“What the devil did he want?” he growled.

He was jealous? Her books were in a beautiful library, she could finish her anonymous vacation, and the hot Englishman was
jealous
. Tonight was a very good night.

“An autograph, of course. Thank you for worrying.” She balanced on her toes and kissed his cheek. Her heels dropped back to the pavement with a thud as heat flooded her face.
What did I just do?

It didn’t matter. He didn’t notice.

“Seriously, Grace.” The growl had been diffused, but his muscles were still tense.

She’d worked out what to tell him before she left the kitchen. Her main character was a spy, after all. “He wanted to talk about menu changes.”

“He could have asked you at the table,” he grumbled as they walked away.

This section of Vienna was much quieter than the district from last night. The shops boasted unique, artisanal works. Soon the women had abandoned Ben against another planter while they browsed inside a boutique.

Grace’s glee bubbled over. Her books sat on the shelves next to Hapsburg treasures under that beautiful mural. It was one thing to see them on a shelf at her home library or at Barnes and Noble. She’d been excited then, but knowing they were here transformed them to art.

I made art.

As she chattered with her mother and Camille, her eventful day rattled through her head. Ben at breakfast, reading Goethe in a whisper, holding her hand, translating the bar chatter, worrying about her . . . She lifted her gaze to the window and the man lounging under a tree. He smiled and waved.

“Miss?”

Grace shook her head to clear the static from her brain. He did that to her every time.
How was it possible after only a day? Maybe I’m not used to it. Perhaps by the time the trip is over, I’ll be immune.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “What?”

The shop girl looked over her shoulder at Ben. “He’d do the same to me. Let me show you something that will look wonderful with your coloring.”

While the girl went in back, Grace joined her mother and Camille. She glanced at her watch and then out the window.

“Don’t fret,” Camille reassured her. “He’s fine.”

Sunny walked to the next rack, and Grace took advantage of the rare privacy. “Camille, I need to ask—I don’t want to intrude on your vacation.”

The older woman turned, and Grace realized Ben had inherited her eyes. “My son has laughed more in the last two days than he has in years. For however long it lasts, I’m happy. If all it leaves him is happy memories, then that’s all right as well.” Her eyes hardened to ice. “But don’t hurt him.”

“I would never—”

“I know, dear. Now, relax and try something on.” She eyed the green dress in the clerk’s hands. “That will look lovely on you.”

Ben used the time alone to assess his overreaction. Grace was a grown woman and a relative stranger, despite their time in the library. Just because he was holding her hand didn’t mean he could prevent her from doing something she enjoyed. And she’d clearly enjoyed her meeting with the waiter.

As the women emerged from the shop, he focused on her shy smile and her shopping bag, wondering what made her happy, what she’d bought, what she was thinking. He joined the group and took their purchases. Shifting the bags to one hand, he grasped Grace’s fingers with the other. They walked in silence.

Grace broke it first. “I’m sorry if I ruined—”

“You didn’t ruin anything. I’m sorry I was a codger. Every Liam Neeson movie played through my head at once.”

“It’s all right.” She stifled a yawn with the back of her other hand. “It’s actually kind of sweet.”

Sweet? She wouldn’t have thought it was sweet if he’d put that boy into a wall.
Ben gulped.
Get hold of yourself. She’s not
yours
.

Her arm brushed his, their steps fell into time, and his chest expanded.
The hell she isn’t
.

“The trip starts in earnest tomorrow,” he muttered, floundering for something to say.

“I’m looking forward to seeing more places, but I’m dreading the hustle,” she sighed. “On the other hand, Mom can’t wait to meet everyone.”

“She’ll have an entourage by the time this is over, won’t she?” Ben asked.

“Probably. She’ll want your mother to be part of it. You’ll need to tell her if she gets too pushy.”

“Mum’s enjoying it, and she’s quite capable of standing up for herself.” Ahead of them, the two women bent their heads in some sort of plot. “It’s nice for her to have someone pull her out of her shell. Andrew used to do that.”

The hotel came into view, and he slowed his steps. Groups had spilled from the lobby into the circle drive. Taxis were queued up, and passengers alighted from one side and boarded from another. Bellman bustled with bag carts. It was like watching ants build their hill.

A shrill whistle split the air, and Ben looked over his shoulder, expecting to see a horde of photographers trying to get his attention. Instead, he saw Grace’s sheepish expression.

“Sorry,” she said.

Their mothers reversed their path, and Sunny rolled her eyes.

“I’m not a retriever, Idgie,” she grumbled.

Grace freed the bags from his unresisting fingers. “We’re going to stay out here. Can you get those in without a problem?”

“Ben has been carrying them in one hand. I think we can manage with four,” Sunny chided. “G’nite, kids.”

Ben watched his mother disappear into the crowd before he turned to Grace. “I’ve never seen a woman whistle like that.”

“I grew up in the country. You learn a completely different set of skills. Mom hates it, but sometimes it’s the best way to get her attention.” She took his hand. “Why don’t we stay away from the noise for a while longer?”

They wandered the streets and watched Vienna light up at night. Ben had seen it before, but Grace somehow made it new.

She preferred quiet, charming streets and people watching rather than tourist sites. Instead of shopping, they took turns guessing what people were saying and where they were going.

At an intersection, they spotted a couple taking turns snapping pictures of each other—first her, then him. Grace stopped in mid-walk.

“Excuse me. English?”

The young man looked at her warily. “
Nein
.”

Grace turned to Ben with a silent plea for translation. “They need a picture together, Ben.”

Smiling, he repeated her request in German. Nodding eagerly, the man surrendered the camera in a flurry of explanations. Then he kept talking as the couple posed.

“They’re on their honeymoon,” Ben said.

“Really?” Grace snapped a picture. “How do you say best wishes?”

“
Herzlichen glückwunsch
.”

Her lips twitched. “You’re making that up.”

“
Gratulation
will work.”

She repeated the sentiment as she returned their camera.

“
Danke
,” the new husband said.

“That means—”