Wait for Me in Vienna Read Online Free Page A

deli employee. After a visit to the deli—with or without a friendly greeting and a little bit of gossip—you made it to the chocolate and candy aisle. It was usually the children’s favorite aisle, and it was definitely Johanna’s. Somewhere beyond it lay the least interesting stuff: hygiene products, prepackaged foods, rice, jars of sauce, pasta, and requisite ingredients like sugar and flour.
    As a child, Johanna had loved the small store just around the corner from her family’s house. It was locally owned, a mom-and-pop operation, and you could choose your own candy from open bins. A piece here, another there, and so on. Unfortunately, the store had closed before her eighth birthday, and nothing could compare to it. The big chains had come to her small town, which wasn’t so small after all these years.
    Though she’d resisted the idea of moving to Vienna at first, the change had done her good. Her zest for life was returning, along with her appetite and her desire to thank her brother for taking her in. She was also curious about Martin’s girlfriend. As Johanna faced the meat counter, she texted her brother, I’m cooking tonight. Invite your girlfriend! Love, Johanna.
    He texted back promptly, I couldn’t hide the fact that I have a girlfriend from you ;-) We’d be delighted. Thank you.
    Johanna grinned and searched for the ingredients to prepare lasagna. It was impossible to mess up as long as you didn’t overcook it, and most people loved lasagna. Hopefully, Martin’s girlfriend wasn’t a vegetarian, because that probably wouldn’t be the best way to start a friendship. Should she make dessert, too? She could whip up a yummy mascarpone cream with cooked plums, rum, and cinnamon. Feeling like the famous Austrian cook Johanna Maier, she swept up to the cash register and looked forward to the evening. She hadn’t cooked in a long time. As a child, she’d loved to stand next to her mother in the kitchen. Her mother was a passionate and talented cook, both essential traits for the creation of good food.
    Back at Martin’s apartment, Johanna walked into the kitchen and froze. What if she’d forgotten how to cook? She took a deep breath and put on some Beatles, which reminded her of dancing with her mother in the kitchen. She couldn’t explain it, but the Beatles always soothed her and freed her mind. Today was no different; her mood lifted immediately and she threw herself into her cooking. Johanna carefully layered the sheets of lasagna noodles, spreading the meat and the béchamel sauce between them, in a large baking pan. Satisfied, she slid her work of art into the oven.
    Martin arrived home punctually, an enchanting young platinum-blonde woman in tow, carrying a huge shopping bag, which contained a large box. She reminded Johanna of the pop star Pink. She had a sharp little hairstyle and blue eyes with black eyelashes that made her eyes stand out and look even bluer. Johanna scrutinized her for a second and then reached out her hand.
    “Hello, I’m Johanna . . . So nice to meet you.”
    “Hello. Nice to meet you, too. I’m Linda,” she said with a beautiful smile. She held out the large shopping bag to Martin. “Where should we put this?”
    “Thank you.” Martin kissed his girlfriend, then put the package in the kitchen.
    “Now you can prepare yourselves a decent cup of coffee any time you want.” Linda grinned as Martin gave her a warm hug.
    “So, Johanna, what amazing things have you made for us?” he asked as he rubbed his belly, probably more excited than either Linda or Johanna.
    “We’re so hungry,” Linda said as she patted her flat-as-a-board stomach.
    “Let me surprise you. Take a seat.” Johanna poured some red wine—an aged Blauer Portugieser. It came highly recommended by a clerk in a small wine shop on Martin’s street. The twenty-five-euro price tag promised that it would good enough, if necessary, to make up for burned lasagna.
    “So, how long have you and my