3. Bastian
Chapter 3
Bastian
We make our way the ten blocks and I push open the door.
Her eyes widen. “Umm, Bastian, I can’t afford this place.”
“You can’t, but I can.”
“No. I can’t let you?—”
“Consider it paying it forward… as you American’s say?” he says like a question.
“Yes, we do say that and many of us believe that’s important, but I still can’t. It’s just…”
“Bastian! Brother, how the heck are you?” a man comes from behind the counter who looks very much like Bastian.
“Miss Harper, this is my brother, Henry. He runs this hotel and has privileges that include getting an abandoned visitor to our wonderful city a complimentary hotel room.”
His brother chuckles. “ Ich verstehe, dass er weiterhin stiehlt .”
I’m not stealing, bro.
“I’m doing no such thing. I’m asking for a favor. No one is stealing anything.”
“I… I’m sure I can find something. I’m sorry, Henry.”
“No worries, Miss Harper. We have plenty of rooms and my much older brother is correct that no one is stealing anything.” He turns to Bastian. “ Fünfundzwanzig Euro pro Nacht sind das Beste, was ich tun kann .”
Harper clears her throat. “I can’t afford 25 euros a night. I think I should just probably go back to the States.”
“So you can understand German?” I ask her.
“Some. Numbers, yes. Conversational speed, no.”
“Harper, please, allow this to be my paying it forward. Who knows, maybe someday I will come to the States and someone will help me.”
“I will send you money after I get home and get things figured out.”
“We’ll see.” I turn back to Henry and nod. “We’ll take it.”
Harper huffs. “I’ll take it. You will not be staying with me, Bastian.”
Henry chuckles but stops when Bastian gives him the side-eye. Younger brother, for sure.
“Yes, of course, I meant ‘ she’ll’ take it.” I emphasize the word, so she knows that I have no plans to stay there with her.
At least not yet…
Henry picks a room with a view of the Brandenburg Gate. Our iconic symbol of the past and a welcome to the city for the future. I stay in the doorway, not stepping inside after she pushes in.
“Do you have luggage?” I ask.
“Yes. But I was told it was picked up at the airport by the tour agent who never showed for me. So, I’m going to assume?—”
“It’s gone,” we say together and her shoulders fall.
“Berlin is safe. Really, it is. I promise.” I say the words knowing the truth is a little more nuanced.
“Well, I have a few pieces of clothing in my backpack, nothing fancy, but it should work for a couple days.”
She spins in the room. “This is really incredible.” Her eyes search every glossy surface and soft piece of cloth.
I agree. My brother worked his way up from being a doorman to assistant manager to general manager of four hotels. And this one is the best of the four. Best location. Best amenities. Best staff.
My pride beams from inside of me.
“I don’t know how to thank you.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ve done so much.”
I stay in the doorway. I will not enter her space until invited. But I don’t get the invitation, she walks to me and every step my heart pounds faster.
“I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner,” she says.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“As a thank you.”
I pause. She needs some control today. She’s been sent from one end of the spectrum to the other— excited and hopeful to enjoy a new place to scared and dismayed by what the travel agency did to her. Being in control will help her to feel secure.
Unfortunately, I wish I didn’t know this technique. It’s the one that often helps pickpockets to make a mark feel comfortable and then they strike. Like sitting next to them on the train, starting an innocent conversation, and then pretending they dropped a bill on the floor to distract them from a person’s ulterior motives. I teach the police to notice people who just ride the train and don’t seem to go anywhere. People who just sit in coffee shops and don’t read anything or look at their phones. Always on heightened alert for another mark.
But this woman is no mark. She is delightful when she’s relaxed. There’s a sparkle in her eyes and she bubbles from inside.
“Okay. But I get to pick the place.”
“I have a budget.”
“I know. I promise, it’s very economical.”
“Okay! I’m hungry now, are you?”
I motion toward the hallway. “Let’s go…”
Die Frau meiner Tr?ume…
Woman of my dreams.