Apricot Kisses Read Online Free Page A

hips. Women.
     
    Hanna
     
    Airports always impress me. They are gigantic, colorful, and noisy. Loudspeakers blare the airlines’ broken promises, while the beginnings of a thousand possibilities are detailed on the Arrivals and Departures boards. The Arrival terminals are my very favorite. I already watched some hellos when I arrived at Berlin-Tegel this morning, but still, I’m bummed I don’t have time to savor a few rounds of reunions, which, like the last few minutes of Love Actually , always send me reaching for a package of tissues. But I have no time to indulge today, so I race through the terminal, a challenge in high heels.
    As I expected, the airport restaurant is crammed. I squeeze through a group of green-capped seniors that has commandeered the bar area and look around. Knowing Hellwig, he’s probably reserved a table, probably somewhere in the back. And, indeed, I spot his familiar profile at a table near the window. I catch myself before I can raise my hand to wave. Hellwig hates to be the center of attention and loathes whoever puts him there.
    I force myself to approach him slowly on my stilettos. Unfortunately, it’s obvious from my panting that I don’t go to the gym regularly. I feel like a pupil summoned to the principal without knowing what she has done wrong.
    It’s always like that when I meet with Hellwig. There’s something about this athletic, good-looking man and his pale eyes that intimidates me. Claire suspects that something else is responsible for my jitters—total nonsense, of course. Who’d be stupid enough to start something with the boss? Then a suitcase on the floor ruins my dignified approach. I stumble.
    “Ouch! Damn.” Pain pierces my shin, my boss shoots me an irritated look, and for a millisecond my eyes tangle with another startled pair—espresso-colored ones.
    “Scusi, signora .” The stranger at the neighboring table picks up his briefcase. I force a smile and then ignore him, even though he has espresso-colored eyes.
    “Hello, boss! Sorry for being late.” I congratulate myself on my recovery—I’m a little out of breath, but otherwise it’s as if the last three seconds didn’t happen.
    “Frau Philipp. A grand entrance—as usual.” Hellwig’s expression remains neutral. I sink down into the empty chair, hold back the urge to rub my shin, and reach for the menu.
    “Are you hungry?” he asks.
    “Honestly, just nervous.”
    Hellwig scrutinizes me silently and then laughs—he doesn’t sound amused. “You, nervous? Never.”
    “All right, you win. I’m curious. It’s not every day I’m summoned to the airport.”
    “Then I won’t hold you in suspense any longer.” He looks at his watch. “There is actually a problem.”
    “And the problem involves me?” I ask as casually as I can.
    “We’re being sued because of your last article.”
    “Again?”
    Although he doesn’t usually take hot-and-bothered restaurateurs seriously, Hellwig doesn’t return my grin. His recurring sermon: if you investigate thoroughly, stick to the facts, and don’t insult anybody, you can attack anyone—even top chefs, for all he cares. Research, facts, respect. I’ve always followed these rules—strictly.
    “So you think it’s funny?” Hellwig stirs his empty teacup. The scrape of metal on porcelain makes my hair stand on end.
    “Of course not!” An alarm shrills in my head. This is not going the way I thought it would.
    “Good—since this situation is not amusing.” Hellwig leans over the table, and the subtle aroma of peppermint drifts to my nose. The boss is a health freak. He never drinks coffee, and it’s rare to see him in a suit and properly tied tie, like today. Usually he wears jeans and polo shirts.
    “The plaintiff—a Signor Camini—wants a five-digit sum.”
    “Five digits!” I clench my fists in my lap. Hellwig looks at his napkin’s flower pattern. “And he demands your head.”
    My voice deserts me.
    “For some reason, Signor