Eclipse Read Free Page B

dozed off in an armchair. Waking upset with herself for having wasted time, she’d revived downstairs with a delicious cup of coffee and a swift but glorious walk in the forest just across the street, before catching a little red cogwheel train down to Römerhof, then a tram to the town center – and now, finally, she was in the heart of Zurich.
    For a city renowned for banks, it was astonishingly pretty. A large Swiss national flag presided over a big bustling square where a host of tramlines intersected. Smooth modern cobbles underfoot, linden trees lining the street, attractive, expensive-looking stores and boutiques, people everywhere, hurrying or strolling, a church bell tolling someplace nearby – and Grace was debating whether she should begin with the lake or the Bahnhofstrasse when she saw, over to her left, one of the places she remembered Magda telling her about.
    â€˜If you have no time for anything else,’ she had said, ‘go to Sprüngli, sit upstairs, drink coffee, eat cake and watch people.’
    A priority then, clearly.
    The
confiserie
downstairs smelled like heaven, and Grace made a mental note to go home laden with foodie gifts. But for now, she climbed the staircase to a spacious old-fashioned restaurant where well-heeled locals and tourists waited for tables, and spied, by luck, a small, free window spot.
    She ordered, then relaxed back in her seat to await her chocolate ice cream – which came in a misted silver flute with whipped cream, and was extraordinarily fine.
    If she lived in Zurich, Grace reflected, she would grow fat.
    She pictured her family sitting here, several tables pushed together. Cathy, their adopted daughter, studying at Johnson & Wales University’s College of Culinary Arts, would relish choosing from the delectable-looking goodies behind the counter where customers were patiently queuing . . .
    â€˜Are you OK?’
    It took a moment for Grace to realize that the man at the next table was speaking to her.
    â€˜I’m sorry?’ she said.
    â€˜You’re from the States, right?’ he asked.
    He was no more than thirty, with wavy brown hair and blue eyes behind fashionable rimless glasses. His smile was friendly and natural, his accent French.
    â€˜I am,’ Grace answered him.
    â€˜You were looking very pensive,’ he said. ‘I wanted to make sure you were all right. I didn’t mean to intrude.’
    She smiled. ‘I’m fine, thank you.’ She looked at the remains of her ice cream
.
‘The food here seems as good as I was told.’
    â€˜Swiss food is excellent, and Zurich is filled with fine restaurants.’
    Their waitress brought him a small glass of white wine.
    â€˜Are you here with your husband?’ the young man asked.
    Grace hesitated only briefly.
    There was something in his eyes, she thought, something possibly flirtatious.
    â€˜I’m here to attend a conference.’ She felt unsure why she’d told him that, why she hadn’t simply lied, said that yes, her husband was with her.
    The check was on her table. She picked it up, looked around.
    â€˜You pay over at the desk,’ the young man told her.
    â€˜Thank you.’ Grace stood up. ‘It was kind of you to be concerned.’
    â€˜It was not so much concern,’ he said.
    He stood up too, and momentarily she thought he might want to leave with her, that she might have to be less pleasant. But instead, he extended his right hand, and she gave him her own, found his grip cool, firm.
    â€˜I wish you a good stay in Zurich,’ he said.
    And sat down again.
    Probably waiting for his girlfriend, Grace thought, standing in a short line at the cash desk. Not remotely interested in a woman at least a decade older – absurd of her even to think that.
    She paid, walked back down to the first floor and bought herself some dark chocolate truffles.
    Perfect to nibble on later, while she rehearsed her conference