Before the pharmacist’s wife could launch into a tirade about the uncleared snow on the pavement, Konstantin picked up one of the potted violets. “Allow me, as your rescuer, to give you this?” He gave Gretel a conspiratorial wink. “I know that a stout-hearted woman such as yourself has earned some splendid roses, but . . .”
Flora watched with admiration as Konstantin chatted amicably and placatingly with Gretel until a hint of a smile appeared on her face. A short time later, she left the store with a flush in her cheeks and the potted violet in her hand.
Flora turned to Konstantin and shook his hand vigorously. “Thank you! Now you’ve rescued me again. If not for you, Gretel would have bitten my head off.”
“I fear the lady’s rear end will be about the same color as that violet by tomorrow,” said Konstantin drily.
Flora laughed. In the same moment, she sensed her mother’s eyes on her. She had completely forgotten Hannah was right there!
“Wouldn’t you like to go into the kitchen with Alexander? It’s sure to be warmer in there,” said Flora, although the stove was almost glowing.
“No, thank you. We’re quite comfortable where we are,” said Hannah, leaning back in her chair with the infant in her arms. “I’m Flora’s mother, by the way,” she said to Konstantin. “And this is her son, Alexander.”
“Charmed,” said Konstantin. He flashed a smile and looked from Hannah to Flora and back as if comparing them.
“This is Konstantin Sokerov, the painter,” said Flora. “I’m sure I’ve mentioned him,” she added.
“Not that I recall,” said Hannah, narrowing her eyes. “Oh, yes! You saved our Flora from that beastly man. Thank you,” she said, although she did not sound particularly grateful.
“Don’t get up,” Konstantin said. He turned to Flora. “No need to wake your beautiful boy.”
“Don’t worry. We’ll just sit here by the stove,” said Hannah, wrapping her shawl closer around Alexander.
Flora shrugged, then turned back to Konstantin. “Can I help you? Would you like to buy flowers? And what brings you back to Baden-Baden in the middle of winter? When I saw you, I was . . . I was completely . . . speechless, and—” Flora broke off, abashed. She felt a strange prickling sensation in her belly.
How long had Konstantin been back in town? Had he perhaps come straight here to her?
Konstantin began to talk. “Once the casino closed, we followed the croupiers, so to speak. The climate of Monte Carlo was exceptionally good for Princess Stropolski’s constitution last year. But this year . . . well, she was already rather weak before we left Baden-Baden, and then—” Konstantin bit on his bottom lip. “Do you remember Püppi’s little dog?”
“Isa?” Flora gave her mother a quick sideways glance. Hannah sipped with exaggerated indifference at her cup of tea. Konstantin’s story seemed not to interest her at all. So why doesn’t she go into the house? Flora wondered in annoyance.
Konstantin was back! Would she see him often now? The idea made her heart beat faster.
“Isa, yes. The poor little beast was run over by a carriage on the very last day of the year. Püppi was inconsolable. I wanted to get her a new dog immediately, but she rejected the idea out of hand. She did not want to spend another day in Monte Carlo, but to travel back to the place where she had been so happy with Isa.”
Flora frowned. So much fuss about a dog?
“She could not possibly travel alone, of course, so I came with her. But to be honest, I have no idea what we’re supposed to do in Baden-Baden so early in the year.” He raised his hands in a tragicomic gesture. “Püppi wants to take a course of baths. Is that even possible outside the season?”
“Oh, certainly. The healing waters here are sure to do the princess good,” Flora replied hastily. “My husband always recommends the baths at the Hotel Marie-Eluise. I’ve never been there myself, but the woman who runs the place is said to be very careful and her place especially clean and tidy.”
Konstantin nodded. “And what else is going on in Europe’s summer capital in winter?” he asked, rubbing his arms as if he were chilled to the bone.
“Oh, there’s quite a bit going on,” Flora said, and she thought quickly about what Konstantin might find interesting. “The Hotel Stéphanie les Bains has been sold, and the new owner has plans for some magnificent renovations, I’ve heard. He believes quite firmly that enough people will come for the spas even without the casino. I’m a little skeptical myself,” she said with a shrug.
“So the Stéphanie’s been sold? Irina will be happy to hear that, I’m sure—no more cheap doss-house for her,” Konstantin murmured as he glanced over the flowers on display.
Oh no. He must have seen flowers a thousand times more beautiful than what I can offer. Flora hurriedly drew several decorative panels—designs composed from dried flowers, stems, and seedpods—from beneath the counter and handed them to Konstantin. “In case you’re looking for a gift for the princess, I have something brand-new. Here—my flower pictures.” For a moment, their fingertips touched, and Flora flinched as if she’d laid her hand on a hotplate. What was going on with her? Why was she so animated? And why didn’t Hannah just get up and leave? Sitting there like that with her ears pricked up—it was embarrassing. What must Konstantin think?
But Konstantin’s eyes were on her pictures. Almost reverently, he traced one finger lightly over the dried petals that Flora had arranged on a thin wooden panel, just as he had traced the contour of her pinky, once, in the wine bar, after she had been attacked.
“They’re beautiful. They remind me of my criminal neglect of my own art. Unfortunately, my obligations leave me with no time for that, if you know what I mean.”
Flora nodded vigorously. Of course she understood. It was almost scandalous, the demands the old princess put on his time.
He chose one picture composed from red poppies. “I’d like to buy this one.”
While Flora wrapped the picture, he asked, “So what do people do to pass the time in Baden-Baden now that the casino’s closed?”
“Who says you can’t gamble here anymore?” Flora looked up from her packing paper, and for a moment their eyes met. Then Flora began to tell him about a foggy November day she had spent at the Villa Menshikov.
“On that particular day, they founded the so-called International Club.” Konstantin seemed to find her story fascinating, so Flora continued. “I was really quite dumbfounded to see all the landgraves and princes there to offer their future support to the racetrack in Iffezheim. The newspaper even reported on the gathering. I saved the article. Would you like to see it?”
“I don’t have much time for horse racing,” Konstantin said. “I went to that . . . Iffezheim with Irina once. So many people go there, but it’s no more than your typical farming village. The Duke of Hamilton’s horses won every race, so even the betting was boring.”
“I can imagine what the horse lovers would say to that,” said Flora, and she laughed. “Friedrich says the International Club wants to make sure that jockeys come from lots of different countries, to keep up the standards of the races. He says that even Kaiser Wilhelm is planning to come one day.”
“Perhaps he’ll bring his charming wife with him? And your dream will come true after all.”
“Delivering the flowers for the kaiserin’s birthday.” Flora looked up and sighed. “I’m surprised you remember that.”
Konstantin shrugged. “You remember things that impress you. But tell me, what were you going to say a moment ago, when you . . .” He trailed off, trying to find the right words.
Flora looked at him impishly. “You mean the gambling? Well, while I was decorating the Villa Menshikov with my flowers, I managed to pick up bits and pieces from various conversations.” She lowered her voice. “Betting on horse races seems not to be the only way to try one’s luck. There was talk of a hidden room somewhere.”
Konstantin grinned. “And you remember my passion for taking a chance.”
“There are some things you just don’t forget,” Flora replied, and they laughed together like old friends.