Paper Love Page 7

  But her pride wasn’t important right now. Making a sale that would help save the store was. She closed the door behind herself and went to the stockroom, where Frau Lamm was busy unpacking yesterday’s deliveries.

  Susanne opened her mouth to explain the problem, but the sight before her made her close her mouth and pause in the doorway.

  Frau Lamm stood in front of a shelf, an open cardboard box next to her and a thick notebook in her hands. She cradled it lovingly, held it up to her face, and sniffed it with a blissful smile that looked almost post-orgasmic.

  Susanne leaned in the doorway and watched her with a grin. God, what a stationery junkie. It was weird but in a cute way.

  When Frau Lamm looked up and saw her, the journal slipped from her grasp. She caught it before it landed on the floor. Instantly, her cheeks flushed. “Uh, I was just, um…”

  “Doing quality control on the way our notebooks smell,” Susanne supplied with a straight face. Okay, an almost straight face.

  “Uh, right. You never know what detail will entice a customer to buy a notebook.” Under the obvious pretense of placing the journal on the shelf, she turned away. When she faced Susanne again, her blush had receded. She pointed at the store. “Is there a problem out there?”

  Only then did Susanne remember the dripping pen in her hand and the customer waiting next to the display case. “Yes, actually. I wanted to sell a pen, but it exploded all over my fingers.” She held up her ink-stained hand.

  Frau Lamm frowned like a dog owner who’d been told that her golden retriever had bitten someone. “This one is usually very reliable. I have one at home, and it’s never leaked in all the years I’ve had it. What did you do to it?”

  “Nothing. I just tried to unscrew it because the customer wanted to see what kind of ink cartridges it takes. That’s all.”

  Frau Lamm groaned. “It doesn’t take cartridges. It’s a piston filler.”

  Susanne tugged on her earlobe as if trying to remove water from her ear. “Translation?”

  “It means the body of the pen itself is the ink tank. There’s a piston inside the barrel that you move up to fill it with ink. You didn’t, by any chance, twist the knob at the end of the pen, did you?”

  “Um, yes. I thought that’s how you opened it to put in the ink cartridges.”

  “Nope. When you twist the knob in this direction,” Frau Lamm mimicked it with a turn of her wrist, “you push the piston forward, expelling the ink.”

  Susanne stared down at the ink-smeared writing instrument. “The longer I work here, the more I appreciate a simple ballpoint pen.”

  Huffing, Frau Lamm took the pen from her and wiped it down with a tissue. “Is the customer still here, or did your little ink explosion chase him or her off?”

  Normally, Susanne wouldn’t stand for any teasing from an employee, but she knew she deserved it, and Frau Lamm’s tone was so good-natured that she couldn’t get angry. “Of course she’s still here. I even talked her into buying one of those BMW journals.”

  “BMW journals?”

  “Yeah, you know. The expensive leather ones on the island display.” Secretly, Susanne referred to all the products that seemed overpriced to her as BMW stationery.

  “Ooh. How did you manage that?”

  Susanne stared at the pattern of ink on her hand. “I just repeated what you told me about it.” Minus all the sexy touching.

  Frau Lamm chuckled. “See? We’ll make a stationery addict out of you before you know it. I’ll go take care of the customer.” She walked past Susanne to the door, then paused and looked back. “By the way, you’ve got ink on your ear.”

  The door clicked shut behind her.

  Susanne stayed behind, looking after Anja. Frau Lamm, she reminded herself. She reached up to touch her ear but then stopped and glanced at her inky fingers. Now she would have to be the one who stepped into the bathroom to clean up.

  Somehow this rescue mission wasn’t going the way she had expected at all, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.

  Chapter 7

  When Frau Lamm turned the sign on the door to closed that evening, Susanne did a quick calculation of how much revenue they had made. Not bad. In the week she’d been here, this was the best sales day so far, mostly because of the four-hundred-euro pen Frau Lamm had managed to sell to the customer she had taken over from Susanne.

  Uncle Norbert peered over her shoulder. “Ooh! That’s promising, isn’t it?” Before Susanne could answer, he clapped his hands and added, “How about I take you two to dinner as a thank-you? My treat.”

  “Yeah, it was a good day, but I hardly think immediately spending any extra money we made will help us.” God, it was a wonder the store had survived all these years. Her uncle might have a vast knowledge of stationery and a heart of gold, but a businessman he was not.

  Uncle Norbert rubbed his bearded cheeks. “Oh. Right. I just want you to know how much I appreciate your help.” He looked at Frau Lamm. “Both of your help.”

  Frau Lamm gave him a quick hug. “We do feel appreciated, even without a dinner invitation. Right, Frau Wolff?”

  “Right.”

  “Frau Wolff?” Uncle Norbert glanced back and forth between them. “Why so formal?”

  Frau Lamm said nothing and walked past them to the back, leaving Susanne to answer.

  “We’re colleagues, Uncle Norbert.” She kept her voice low. “Not friends.”

  “Why can’t you be both?” her uncle asked.

  “Because…because I think it’s better to keep work and my private life separate.” She had made the mistake of mixing both once, and she would never repeat it.

  Uncle Norbert fluffed his circle of gray hair with an expression that indicated this concept was completely foreign to him.

  Frau Lamm returned from the back, wearing her now-dry coat. She paused in the middle of the store to strap on her bicycle helmet.

  Uncle Norbert frowned. “You’re not planning on taking your bike home, are you? It’s still raining.”

  Susanne glanced past the paper animals dangling from the ceiling to one of the large windows. It had gotten dark outside, but in the light of a streetlamp, she could make out sheets of rain pouring from the sky, forming puddles on the cobblestoned street.

  “No big deal.” Frau Lamm zipped her coat and put on her gloves. “I can change into something dry once I’m home.”

  “But you’ll be miserable on your bike. You’ll catch a cold.”

  “He’s right,” Susanne heard herself say. What the hell? She hadn’t planned on getting involved in this discussion. Quickly, she added, “The last thing the store needs right now is a sick employee.”

  Frau Lamm sighed, opened the buckle beneath her chin, and took off her helmet. “Okay, I’ll leave the bike here until Monday and take the streetcar.”

  “But you don’t have an umbrella, do you?” When Frau Lamm shook her head, Uncle Norbert turned toward Susanne. “Could you drive her home?”

  “That’s not necessary,” Frau Lamm said immediately. “I told you I’ll be fine on the bike. I’m not made of sugar, so I won’t melt just because of a little rain.”

  Susanne remembered that she had looked pretty miserable in her drenched clothes this morning, and she needed her healthy and at the store to help customers and to answer any questions she might have about stationery products. “No problem. I’m heading home anyway, and I don’t mind a little detour.” She reached for her car keys and strode to the door. “Come on.”

  Anja threw Nobby a you-shouldn’t-have glance, which he answered with an impish grin. She shook her head at him and hurried after Susanne.

  With her longer legs, the taller woman had already reached the door, opened it, and unfolded her umbrella. She waited until Anja had reached her side before she set off down the street.

  Since the umbrella wasn’t meant for two people, they had to press close beneath the cover so their arms were touching. It was slightly awkward but not as uncom
fortable as Anja had expected—at least not for her. She had no idea what was going on in Susanne’s head since her professional poker face was firmly in place.

  “Taking the streetcar really wouldn’t be a problem,” Anja said.

  Susanne led them around a large puddle. “It’s okay. You introduced me to your favorite status symbol; now I’ll introduce you to mine.”

  Anja decided to give in. Truth be told, being delivered directly to her doorstep would be nice in this weather. After a long day at work, she couldn’t wait to get off her feet. “Where are you parked?”

  Susanne slowed and pointed to a still-standing section of the medieval city wall that ran parallel to the sidewalk. The entrance to a small parking garage had been built into the wall just a few steps down the street from the store. “Down there.”

  “How did you manage to get a parking spot there? It’s a private garage, isn’t it?”

  A quick smile lit up Susanne’s gray eyes. “Let’s just say I have my ways.”

  They ducked into the parking garage, and Susanne pressed the fob on her key. The blinkers of a car to their left flashed, revealing a sporty black BMW.

  Susanne shook out the umbrella and tossed it into the back of the car before getting in. “Where to?” she asked when Anja climbed into the passenger seat.

  Anja settled her messenger bag and the bicycle helmet onto her lap, careful not to get too many raindrops on the gleaming leather seat. This car looked as immaculate as its owner, as if she’d only bought it this morning. Anja had never sat in a BMW, and she had to admit it was kind of nice. “Betzenhausen.”

  “I have no idea where that is. I haven’t had a chance to get to know the city.”

  Did she even want to? Anja wasn’t sure. “It’s on the western edge of the city. Just head toward the Schwabentor, and I’ll give you directions from there.”

  Susanne started the engine, and a soft pop ballad drifted through the loudspeakers.

  Ooh, the new Jenna Blake album! Anja gave an appreciative nod. Apparently, they did have one thing in common after all.

  Susanne steered them competently through the rain-slick streets, sticking to the speed limit.

  Neither said much, other than Anja giving directions. The only sounds in the car were the low music and the fast, monotonous back-and-forth of the windshield wipers across the glass.

  Ten minutes later, Susanne maneuvered around the ninety-degree left turn onto the quiet street where Anja lived.

  “It’s the second gray-and-white building on the left.” Anja pointed through the rain-smeared windshield.

  Susanne leaned forward and squinted.

  The rain pelted down in buckets now. Even though the wipers were set to the highest speed, they couldn’t keep up to clear the view.

  “Just pull into the parking spot next to the building. It’s mine, but I don’t use it.”

  Susanne parked the car and turned off the engine.

  For a moment, they sat without moving, the darkness and the heavy rain cutting them off from the rest of the world. Even the three meters to the apartment building seemed like a long distance.

  “Thanks so much for driving me. I really appreciate it. Do you know how to get home from here?”

  “Not a clue. But I’ve got GPS.” Susanne patted the dashboard.

  “Oh. Of course. Until Monday, then.”

  Susanne cocked her head. “You’re not working tomorrow?”

  Anja reined in the urge to defend herself. Why would she even need to? She was an employee, not a slave, so of course she had a day off. “I only work Saturdays in December and during the summer, when we’re busy. Have a nice weekend, and drive safely.” She unbuckled the seat belt, braced herself, and prepared for a mad dash to the front door.

  “Wait.” Susanne undid her own seat belt and leaned toward Anja. Their shoulders brushed.

  What on earth is she…? Anja held her breath.

  Susanne angled her arm through the gap between the seats and reached into the back for her umbrella. “I’ll walk you to the door, or you’ll be drenched within a second.”

  Anja exhaled. Jeez, what did you think she would do? Kiss you? “Thanks.”

  The patter of rain became louder as Susanne opened the door and then dimmed as she closed it and walked around the car.

  Anja grabbed her helmet and her messenger bag, got out too, and ducked beneath the umbrella that Susanne held over both of them. A bike trailer made for transporting toddlers had been left in front of the building, so they had to walk around it to get to the front door.

  The light in the staircase was already on, probably because one of Anja’s neighbors had arrived home shortly before them. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, while Susanne hovered on the other side, still beneath the umbrella.

  “Um…” Anja hesitated. The polite thing would probably be to invite her in, but she felt a little self-conscious at the thought of Susanne seeing her tiny apartment. Oh, come on. What do you care what she thinks? Besides, they should talk about Paperworld anyway, since the trade fair was coming up next weekend. She gave herself a mental kick. “Do you want to come up for a minute? Maybe the rain will let up so that you can actually see where you are going.”

  Susanne hesitated. She glanced over her shoulder at the gray curtain of rain and then back at Anja.

  The light in the staircase went out, throwing them into darkness.

  Anja reached around the doorframe for the light switch outside since that one was glow-in-the-dark and easier to find. Her shoulder brushed something soft. She bit her lip and tried not to think about what part of Susanne’s body it might have been.

  The light flared on again, no doubt revealing Anja’s blush.

  “All right,” Susanne said. “Just for a minute.”

  Their wet shoes squeaked as they climbed up the three flights of stairs to Anja’s apartment, which was on the top floor of the building. In front of the door, Anja slipped out of her shoes, and Susanne silently followed her example.

  Anja’s heart pounded as she unlocked the door, and it wasn’t because of the stairs they’d just climbed. Her little apartment was her safe haven, a place that she had created just for herself, and she usually didn’t invite near strangers in—especially not ones who might be judgmental. Nobby’s niece could be a bit of a snob.

  So what? If she didn’t like Anja’s home, that was her problem. Anja mentally counted to three and then swung open the door.

  Susanne normally wasn’t the overly curious kind, but now she found herself looking around. In her socks, she stood in a short, gray-tiled hallway. To her left was a closed door with a dozen postcards and humorous quotes taped to it. Another door, this one with a glass insert, stood open, leading to another room.

  Frau Lamm went through that door, turned on the light, and waved at her to follow.

  Susanne padded across the hardwood floor. The apartment reminded her of how she’d lived as a student years ago. A sleeper couch with a folded duvet and a pillow dominated the wall to her right, while a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf took up the wall to her left. A TV stand on wheels had been rolled up against the foot of the sofa, and directly behind it, a huge, square Ikea shelf had been set up as a room divider that separated the sleeping area from a small desk.

  Every last available space on the bookshelf and the divider was filled with books and notebooks, sorted by color, which created a rainbow that spread through the entire room.

  Susanne peeked past a row of books to the other side of the divider. The desk was covered in colorful paper, cardboard, and felt. Some of the half-finished craft projects looked as if they would become store decorations for Valentine’s Day.

  When Susanne stepped farther into the room, she realized that it was L-shaped, curving to the left. A low-hanging white lamp threw shadows onto a tiled mini kitchen with a fridge, a sink, a two-plate stove, a round table, and two chairs.

  Compared to her own spacious apartment in the Wiehre, Frau Lamm’s home was tiny, bu
t Susanne guessed that with a pair of French doors leading onto a balcony and another window that let in sunlight, it would look bigger than it really was when the sun was shining, reflecting off the caramel-colored hardwood floor. It was cozy, and it fit Frau Lamm perfectly.

  “Um, I know it’s pretty small, but I don’t need much.” Frau Lamm’s defensive tone made Susanne look over to her.

  She stood next to the tiny kitchen, her arms folded across her chest as if to erect a barrier between them.

  “I like it,” Susanne said, partly to put her at ease and partly because it was true. Plus she knew that rents in Freiburg were expensive and that Frau Lamm didn’t make much money working at Paper Love. For a moment, she wondered why Frau Lamm hadn’t been more ambitious. She certainly had the intelligence to be much more than a salesperson in a small stationery store. But then Susanne reprimanded herself. If Frau Lamm was happy with the life she had, it wasn’t Susanne’s place to judge.

  Frau Lamm, who had already opened her mouth, probably to defend her apartment, snapped it shut.

  Susanne walked up to the balcony doors and peered outside through a gap in the semi-transparent burgundy curtains. A streetlamp cast a yellow circle of light onto the street below. Somewhere behind it, a church tower with a huge bird’s nest on top was silhouetted against the near-dark sky.

  Frau Lamm unfolded her arms, stepped next to her, and looked outside as if trying to see her neighborhood through Susanne’s eyes.

  “Hard to believe that we’re in Freiburg,” Susanne said after a while. “This looks like a little village, not a city.”

  “That’s what it was about a hundred years ago, and it’s part of what I like about living here. I can take the streetcar and be in the city with all its restaurants and shops within ten minutes, but if I go the other way,” she waved her arm, “I have the river, lakes, and meadows right outside my doorstep. So I kind of have the best of both worlds.”

  Susanne suppressed a smile. Apparently, that enthusiastic gesturing wasn’t limited to stationery but extended to all the other things she loved.