The Heirloom Murders - Kathleen Ernst [17]
Chloe pulled a napkin from the silver dispenser and began folding it into tidy triangles. “So what, you think you can pick things up where we left off ? I’m supposed to just forget everything you put me through? It’s not that easy.”
“Of course it’s not that easy.” Markus rotated his coffee mug a neat quarter-turn. “But I’ll be in Wisconsin for another month. I would like very much to spend some time with you.”
Tess appeared and stared with dismay at their full plates. “Is something wrong with the food?”
“Absolutely not,” Markus assured her. “It’s as good as I could get at home in Brienz. Be sure to tell the chef.” Tess beamed, and disappeared again.
Chloe watched her leave before turning back to Markus. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to spend time together.”
“Is there someone else?”
I wish I knew, Chloe thought, pausing from her freestyle origami. “Maybe.”
Something flickered over his face. It took her a moment to decipher his expression as regret. She had once thought she knew his every nuance. Regret—that one was new.
“Just give it a chance,” he said. “Please, Chloe. We were good together. Let’s just see if we …” He lifted one hand, palm up. Another forgotten/familiar gesture. They were coming back now—all the intimacies, all the shared experiences, all the memories. All the things she’d spent a year trying very hard to forget.
“We can start small,” Markus said. “I need to visit Old World Wisconsin. Will you show me around?”
“Absolutely not.”
He blinked. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to.”
“But I must visit! Claude expects me to learn about your breeding program!”
“Oh, come on. We don’t even have a Swiss farm.”
“It doesn’t matter. Old World Wisconsin is one of the best-known American historic sites among agricultural historians.”
“Fine. Call the site and ask to speak with the head farmer. He’ll show you around.”
“And I’ll need to see whoever manages your garden program.”
“Gardens?” Chloe felt her brows rise.
“Some of my funding for this trip came from a … what’s the word? Consortium? A consortium of European historic sites doing research on heirloom plants. They want to know what species and traditions might have crossed to North America.”
“Begin with the farmer,” Chloe said firmly. “Our head gardener’s sister just died. And she only started this past spring, anyway. I don’t know how much she’ll be able to tell you.”
“I really want to see the site through your eyes.”
“That’s not gonna happen.”
He chewed his lower lip for a moment. “All right, how about this. I just got an invitation to visit an elderly couple, Johann and Frieda Frietag, on Monday. They are evidently quite frail, but still living on the farm his great-grandfather built. There’s a tiny cheese factory on the grounds, and I want to talk with them about livestock and vegetables. Why don’t you come with me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I have to work. Staff meeting.” It was even true. Director Ralph Petty started each week by convening the few Old World Wisconsin employees with permanent status.
“Their granddaughter said they make an old variety of green cheese,” Markus said, with the air of offering a tantalizing treat. He knew how interested she was in historic food traditions.
Chloe didn’t like being manipulated. “I don’t care.”
“And Frieda is an expert at embroidery.”
Chloe glared at him. He knew how interested she was in historic textiles, as well. They had done this many times in Switzerland—visited some elder, learning what they could about traditional folkways.
“Please, Chloe. Please.”
Maybe it was the humble tone to Markus’s plea. Maybe it was a reflexive response to five years of shared history. Or maybe it was the permed lady’s tiny, encouraging nod. For whatever reason, Chloe heard herself mutter, “Oh, all right.”
Roelke had no trouble finding the number he wanted in the phone book. It took much longer to scrape up the courage to dial. He was pulling the receiver from his ear with