Chapter Two #2
“Yes, well, they did not have an Audi in the garage, and the young man at the counter seemed to have difficulty understanding me when I spoke.”
Edgar had two of his own bags and tried repeatedly to take one of mine as we made our way across the parking lot to the rental area.
He was twenty years older than me. There was no way I was allowing a sixty-five year old man with silver hair to carry my bags.
I was forty-five, fit, and fully able to tote two leather duffels.
“That is common here,” I said as we found the blue Subaru then dumped our bags into the rear of the SUV.
“When I visit New York I have to strain to understand much of what is said to me when I buy hot dogs on the street.” I got a look.
“Yes, I know. They are fattening. I run them off so let me indulge in a few simple pleasures.”
“A few the man says,” Edgar mumbled as we climbed into our car. I chuckled softly as I sank into a plush seat. “It is an hour to the inn so you can sleep if you wish. There is little to see I’m sure.”
And so, knowing I was in good hands, I let my eyes close as the headrest cradled my skull. Between the sound of the engine and a lovely radio station playing soft pop hits from the sixties and seventies, I was asleep in no time.
No sooner had my eyes closed, or so it seemed, did Edgar hit the brakes, lurching me forward with a snap to the chest belt.
“Mein Gott,” he said as he stared through the windshield as I tried to blink the sleep from my eyes.
“Ah,” I whispered when my sight landed on a moose standing in the middle of the road.
I could never recall seeing a moose before.
They had been eradicated in the 1700s back home in Germany, and while a few had been spied in the eastern part of the country, it was thought most of those sightings were wandering moose from other countries. “Magnificent, is it not?”
“Massive is what it is,” Edgar replied so quietly I had to strain to hear him. “Why does it not move off the road when a car is sitting a foot from it?”
“Perhaps she is waiting for a calf, or perhaps she is just unconcerned about us or our silly car.” I leaned up to get a better view of the beast. She really was amazing, and huge.
I was relatively sure it was a female for it had no bumps of a new set of antlers growing in.
“How sad it is that our past countrymen felt the need to shoot every damn one of them.”
Edgar sighed, his thin wrists resting on the steering wheel. “Much like the Americans and the buffalo.”
“Mm, yes, but much of that was to starve the indigenous peoples into—Ah, Edgar, look! It is a calf. How spindly it is!”
We sat there, spellbound, as a wobbly brown calf emerged from the dense woods to join its patient mother.
The headlights made the little one blink its large brown eyes before Mother Moose began meandering forward, her calf at her side.
We watched in fascination until we couldn’t see them anymore, the forest swallowing them up completely.
“Even if I do not get Haider Gray to sign over his shop to us seeing that made the trip worth it,” I said as I leaned back into my seat.
“I agree,” Edgar replied as we slowly began to move. A quarter of a mile down the road the high beams hit a bright yellow sign warning to beware of moose crossing.
“That needs moved back up the road,” I said sleepily, my heavy eyelids drifting shut once more. A gentle shake woke me shortly after my eyes had closed again. This time when my lashes blinked opened we were parked in front of a three-story, white-clapboard expanse of a home. “Are we at the inn?”
“Yes, we are. It looks quite rustic,” Edgar noted as my sight darted from flowerbeds filled with reds and pinks to a handmade sign announcing that this was, in fact, The Lakeside Inn. “We’ll check in then I’ll park the car.”
I nodded, unbuckled my belt, and exited the car.
Arms over head, I stretched and heard my spine pop and crack.
Nothing said middle-age like bones that popped like kindling.
We entered the front door and walked to the front desk.
There were rooms for guests to lounge on either side of the check-in area The colors here were warm and autumnal, soft golds and dark browns.
Rich wooden hutches and shelves filled every corner, tiny statuettes sat on tatted doilies.
The air was cool and carried the scent of pine.
With a ping of the bell on the desk an older man emerged from a room in the back, smiling at us.
He was pudgy, shy on hair but heavy on smiles.
“Good evening,” I said as Edgar fussed with the zipper on one of his bags. “We have two rooms reserved under Brauning.”
“Oh yes, the German visitors. Welcome to New Hampshire! You’ll just love it here. The trails and kayaking on the lake are top favorites here. Lots of hikers spotting all kinds of wildlife,” the innkeeper informed us as he ran my credit card through his machine.
“We met one on the way here. A moose and her calf,” I said while signing my name to a small receipt.
“Oh yeah, we have several moose who are regulars. As long as you don’t bother them, or the bears, or coyotes, or bobcats then you’ll be fine.
” He handed us key cards. “You’re on the second floor facing the back of the inn.
Spectacular view of the trees and Lake Harmony from your balcony.
Breakfast is served in the dining room around the corner starting at seven.
You’ll have to try my wife’s buttermilk pancakes served with imported fresh goat milk butter topped with local maple syrup from Sam Caldwell’s Stonebridge Maple Farm. ”
“We’ll be sure to order them,” I said around a yawn that I could not hold back. “Please, excuse me. We just flew in from Europe and are exhausted. What time is breakfast over?”
“Ten, but if you wish to place an order now we can bring it to your room whenever you wish to wake up. I know how jet lag is,” the innkeeper said. “By the way, my name is Prescott Davies.”
We shook hands. “Good to know. I will be up early though. I have an important business meeting in Caldwell Corners tomorrow bright and early.”
“Then we’ll see you two over breakfast. Pleasant dreams!” Prescott led us to our rooms, up some narrow stairs that reflected the age of this old farm house/inn, on silent feet. The inn was quiet, something I appreciated. I was a light sleeper so rowdy guests soured my sleep.
I was in room 2-B and Edgar was across the hall in 2-C. “I’ll text you when I’m ready to go to breakfast. Or you can sleep in and I’ll drive to the candy shop,” I said as I scanned my card.
“I’ll be happy to drive you,” Edgar said, yawned, and stumbled into his room with a bleary wish for a good night.
I entered my suite, flicked on the lights, and found that I was very pleased with the area It was large, done in shades of peach and white, with a king-size bed, a huge corner cupboard housing a television, and French doors that were now locked.
I toed off my shoes, dragged my bags to a small settee at the end of the bed, and then stripped down to my boxers.
I should have looked at the bathroom but right now I could care less. I was sure it was fine.
The peach coverlet called my name and I answered with a sigh as I fell face forward into a soft mattress with a score of fat pillows.
Unable to think of anything other than rest, I tugged a pillow under my head, kicked at the coverlet until I could reach it, and then pulled the thin duvet to my chin.
The bedding smelled of fresh air and lemons, a pleasing scent that reminded me of my childhood when the maids would hang the sheets out to dry in the summer.
With the remembered scent of the Bavarian sun and wind in my nose, I had a premonition tomorrow would result in me swaying the recalcitrant local candymaker into selling his shop.
Opa would be thrilled, I could return to Berlin, and Mr. Gray would be financially set for many years.
Yes, indeed, I sighed as sleep slugged me over the head, tomorrow would be a memorable day.