“So how did you first meet each other? In Germany?” Al asked.
“Hasn’t Lou told you?” Gertrude responded.
“You tell it so much better,” Lou said. “I couldn’t do it justice.”
“All right. We were both married, you know. Our parents came to Milwaukee before World War Two. They were smart, our parents. They came here because other friends and family already moved. People spoke the old language, made the old food, supported each other in this very different place.
“Otto and I grew up here but never met. There were so many Germans—we didn’t know everyone. We married our high school sweethearts, then we each buried them after many years of marriage. I had settled into widowhood, content with my friends, my nieces, my nephews. One summer, when German Fest was still new, I waited in line for Spanferkel.” She saw the confusion in Al’s eyes.
“Do you know what this is?” Gertrude asked. Al shook his head no.
“The Spanferkel is a young piglet. They roast it slowly and the juices leak, making crispy skin and moist meat. In Germany, we make this for celebrations. It is not something a widow would make to eat by herself. At German Fest, they had a stand selling Spanferkel. When I made my order and pulled out my money to pay, the most handsome man stepped forward to set his money on the counter.
“At first I grew quite angry, thinking him pushy. But then another order was added and he paid for both. And then he said, ach, I’ll never forget his words. He said, ‘If I may?’ ”
“That was it? Just ‘If I may?’ ” Al said.
“My Otto uses few words. His polite question gave me shivers I still feel now. I nodded; he carried our orders to a nearby table, waited until I sat; then we ate. After a cold beer, he asked me to polka. We danced all night to every song. I remember his sparkling eyes under these same bushy brows. They were darker then. He danced with springs on his toes. By the end of the night, I danced on springs, too.”
While Gertrude told her story, Al and Lou looked at each other, remembering their spontaneous dance at Irish Fest. Lou gave a gentle squeeze to the back of Al’s neck and continued to play with his hair. She swirled soft circles across the bare skin. The gentle touch went directly to his soul, soothing any lingering tension from his meeting with Hannah and uncertainty about their future.
“It is so fun to watch young love,” Gertrude said. “Now, this young man is hungry. Aren’t you a chef?”
Lou looked a little startled at Gertrude’s obvious dismissal. Al was sad she took her hands away, but the rumble in his stomach agreed with Gertrude’s suggestion.
“I suppose she’s right. I did promise you food. What would you like?”
“Surprise me. If you make it, I know I’ll love it.” Lou nodded and headed back to the kitchen. Gertrude watched her leave.
“Good, I never thought she’d go.” Al didn’t expect to hear that from the sweet little lady. “She’ll be back too soon, but I wanted to chat with you about your intentions with our girl. As you can see, she has become family to us. While you seem a nice gentleman, I want to know what you plan.”
Otto, his bald pate bobbing in agreement, actually cracked a knuckle under the table. Al wanted to dismiss it as coincidence, but the stern look on Otto’s face reminded him of his first girlfriend’s father when he’d picked her up for a date. That particular man had polished his hunting rifle on the dining room table as Al waited for his date to make her entrance.
Al sat up straight, taking Gertrude and Otto’s concerns seriously. He paused before he spoke, wanting to make sure his words reflected the certainty he felt.
“First, Lou is quite lucky to have so many people around her who care for her so deeply. I hope that caring someday extends to me. When I arrived, I knew no one other than the few people I worked with. I wasn’t particularly fond of the city. I arrived in the depths of winter to a blizzard and below-zero temperatures. It seemed an omen of things to come.
“Then it warmed, sort of. And Lou fell into my life. She showed me where to find the heart of Milwaukee. I didn’t know it when I came here, but I’ve been searching for a place like this. Lou represents everything I love about this city: the past, the present, and I hope the future. I fell in love. This is my home now.”
“Good,” Otto said, nodding his shiny head again in approval.
“Be good to her, Liebchen. She is a treasure,” Gertrude added.
“I will do anything to make her happy. She is in good hands.”
“I hope your thoughts lean toward a permanent change for our Lou.” She tapped her ring finger with her other hand. “Otto and I met and married within a few months. When you have found your match, you know, right?”
Al blinked at Gertrude’s suggestion. He hadn’t thought about marriage. It seemed too quick, but he still found himself nodding along with Gertrude; when you knew, you knew.
“We are done now; she comes,” Gertrude said, interrupting his thoughts.
Lou appeared at his side with four plates, two containing entrées and two containing apple tarts with large scoops of ice cream.
She set the desserts in front of Otto and Gertrude.
“Harley sent these out for you. He’s topped them with the salted caramel ice cream you like so much.”
“That man spoils us too much. He will make us fat,” Gertrude said, but the two eagerly scooped up bites.
Lou set the remaining two plates in front of Al and herself.
“It looked so good when I made yours, I realized I haven’t eaten today.”
Al looked down to see a plate of sole meunière. He couldn’t help remembering the last time he consumed this dish in this restaurant. But this was different. She was different. He was different.
He cut off a large piece of fish and shoved it in his mouth with an inward flinch. He chewed. Then sighed. Perfection. How could he have expected anything less? Further evidence of his past arrogance. Al devoured the delicate fish, hoping to smother the guilt stomping about in his stomach.
• CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE •
Al sat alone at the bar sipping a cup of tea. It had been almost three weeks since he’d first entered her restaurant, and he had since become a fixture. She loved the way he looked sitting at her bar.
Miniature pumpkins dotted the surface, most with kooky painted faces. Harley had painted them whenever it was slow. Looking around the restaurant, she could see that each pumpkin had a different expression. It had been slower than slow.
Lou could see Al each time she passed the pickup window. She refused to let him help¸ insisting he’d only get in her way. Every Sunday morning she came in to clean out the fridge of items that wouldn’t last until the next open. Finding food past its prime prodded her latent OCD. Lou could let a lot of things slide, but reaching into a box and pulling out a moldy lemon or slimy head of lettuce triggered the gag reflex. Normally she tossed anything approaching its expiration date, but today she planned to bring home anything usable, and perhaps a few things in no danger of expiring. What was the point of owning a restaurant if you couldn’t use the good stuff occasionally? Today she had plans to make dinner with Al, so no reason to waste perfectly good food.
Lou recovered some foie gras, duck confit, and assorted veggies and herbs. As she grabbed the items, a menu started bubbling to the surface: foie gras ravioli with a cherry-sage cream sauce, crispy goat cheese medallions on mixed greens with a simple vinaigrette, pan-fried duck confit, and duck-fat-roasted new potatoes with more of the cherry-sage cream sauce. For dessert, a chocolate soufflé with coconut crisps. She grabbed a few more ingredients off the shelf to avoid a stop at the grocery store.