Read Online Sweeter Than Wine by Michaela August - Free Book Online
Authors: Michaela August
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Alice parked the truck in the level area in front of the house, setting
the parking brake with a determined yank. Her look was filled with sympathy and
the shadow of losses of her own.
"It is all in the past now." Siegfried, said, sorry he had brought the subject of
the War to her attention. He needed a distraction. "As for Peter, I would keep an
eye on your pears," he forced himself to joke.
"If I notice any bite marks this visit, I'll know who to blame." Alice rejoined with
a smile that flashed, then vanished.
Siegfried smiled his own appreciation, then, irresistibly, the house captured his
attention. He gazed beyond the two Fortune Palm trees standing like giant sentries
by the opening in the short picket fence. Sunlight sparkled from the curved panes
in the north-corner oriel and illuminated the bunches of fat amethyst grapes and
emerald vines in the stained glass above the front door. He had never seen
anything so beautiful.
The clicking sound of the driver's side door opening woke him up. Where were
his manners? He scrambled quickly around the truck to help Alice down.
"Thank you." The curve of her lips emerged from the shadow cast by the broad
brim of her hat. She took off her driving coat, folded it neatly, and laid it on the
driver's seat. Then she picked up a large parcel from the back of the truck and
passed between the palm trees, walking across the short flagstone walkway and
up the four painted wooden steps to open the unlocked front door.
She turned, waiting by the open door. "It's okay. You can come on in," she
offered.
Siegfried roused himself to shoulder a ten-pound sack he found in the truck
bed. The aroma of coffee beans--real coffee--surrounded him like incense. How
often had he choked down the thin dandelion-root substitute at the Front? Not
often enough to forget the taste of the real thing.
At the doorway he asked, "Shall I put this in the pantry?"
Alice turned, amazed, from where she was unpinning her hat in front of a
mahogany-framed foyer mirror.
Had she expected him to leave her to unload the truck alone? The thought
fired Siegfried with impatience to prove himself, to win her admiration--and her
heart.
After a brief hesitation, Alice hung her straw boater with its wide dark-blue silk
ribbon on the brass hat rack. "Yes, thank you. The kitchen is through the last door
on the left and the pantry is to your right."
Siegfried nodded. "I know." The bag rested against his cheek like a pillow filled
with frankincense and myrrh. Eyes half-closed in blissful anticipation, his feet
remembered the way down the hall bisecting the house. Rooms opened up on
either side: a small study behind the first door on his left; the parlor on his right;
then an oak-banistered stairway leading upstairs to the left. The family rooms
opposite the kitchen and dining room had been shut up after Opa Roye's death,
when Oma Tati had found it too painful to remain at Montclair.
At the end of the hallway a screened door led out to the porch. A wraith of
wind bore scents from the vegetable garden. A wide, finely molded archway
opened between the hall and the kitchen. In the afternoon light, buttercup-yellow
cupboards and crystal knobs brightened the room. Copper-bottomed pans hung
like shields over the modern, spindly-legged stove. Gray icebox by the stove, plain
table along the hall wall, cupboard toward the dining room--Alice had not changed
a thing. Joy surged up in him.
This house had escaped the War unscathed.
In the pantry, Siegfried lowered the coffee sack next to a nearly depleted twin
sagging in a corner. He spent a moment worshipping the bounty stored in the
closet-like chamber with its clean linoleum floor and tiled counters. Mason jars on
the shelves gleamed with peaches, plums, apricots, raspberries, tomatoes,
pickles, and carrots like polished gems. Jars of dark honey glowed like a king's
ransom in Baltic amber. The spicy perfume of cloves, cinnamon, ginger, and
nutmeg wafted from small ceramic bins
the parking brake with a determined yank. Her look was filled with sympathy and
the shadow of losses of her own.
"It is all in the past now." Siegfried, said, sorry he had brought the subject of
the War to her attention. He needed a distraction. "As for Peter, I would keep an
eye on your pears," he forced himself to joke.
"If I notice any bite marks this visit, I'll know who to blame." Alice rejoined with
a smile that flashed, then vanished.
Siegfried smiled his own appreciation, then, irresistibly, the house captured his
attention. He gazed beyond the two Fortune Palm trees standing like giant sentries
by the opening in the short picket fence. Sunlight sparkled from the curved panes
in the north-corner oriel and illuminated the bunches of fat amethyst grapes and
emerald vines in the stained glass above the front door. He had never seen
anything so beautiful.
The clicking sound of the driver's side door opening woke him up. Where were
his manners? He scrambled quickly around the truck to help Alice down.
"Thank you." The curve of her lips emerged from the shadow cast by the broad
brim of her hat. She took off her driving coat, folded it neatly, and laid it on the
driver's seat. Then she picked up a large parcel from the back of the truck and
passed between the palm trees, walking across the short flagstone walkway and
up the four painted wooden steps to open the unlocked front door.
She turned, waiting by the open door. "It's okay. You can come on in," she
offered.
Siegfried roused himself to shoulder a ten-pound sack he found in the truck
bed. The aroma of coffee beans--real coffee--surrounded him like incense. How
often had he choked down the thin dandelion-root substitute at the Front? Not
often enough to forget the taste of the real thing.
At the doorway he asked, "Shall I put this in the pantry?"
Alice turned, amazed, from where she was unpinning her hat in front of a
mahogany-framed foyer mirror.
Had she expected him to leave her to unload the truck alone? The thought
fired Siegfried with impatience to prove himself, to win her admiration--and her
heart.
After a brief hesitation, Alice hung her straw boater with its wide dark-blue silk
ribbon on the brass hat rack. "Yes, thank you. The kitchen is through the last door
on the left and the pantry is to your right."
Siegfried nodded. "I know." The bag rested against his cheek like a pillow filled
with frankincense and myrrh. Eyes half-closed in blissful anticipation, his feet
remembered the way down the hall bisecting the house. Rooms opened up on
either side: a small study behind the first door on his left; the parlor on his right;
then an oak-banistered stairway leading upstairs to the left. The family rooms
opposite the kitchen and dining room had been shut up after Opa Roye's death,
when Oma Tati had found it too painful to remain at Montclair.
At the end of the hallway a screened door led out to the porch. A wraith of
wind bore scents from the vegetable garden. A wide, finely molded archway
opened between the hall and the kitchen. In the afternoon light, buttercup-yellow
cupboards and crystal knobs brightened the room. Copper-bottomed pans hung
like shields over the modern, spindly-legged stove. Gray icebox by the stove, plain
table along the hall wall, cupboard toward the dining room--Alice had not changed
a thing. Joy surged up in him.
This house had escaped the War unscathed.
In the pantry, Siegfried lowered the coffee sack next to a nearly depleted twin
sagging in a corner. He spent a moment worshipping the bounty stored in the
closet-like chamber with its clean linoleum floor and tiled counters. Mason jars on
the shelves gleamed with peaches, plums, apricots, raspberries, tomatoes,
pickles, and carrots like polished gems. Jars of dark honey glowed like a king's
ransom in Baltic amber. The spicy perfume of cloves, cinnamon, ginger, and
nutmeg wafted from small ceramic bins
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