Page 32 of Love Bites

“We’re in New Hampshire,” I corrected as we moved away from the door to find her a seat. There were a dozen inside the jet, all wonderfully comfortable, but Mother preferred to not be near the doors because they leaked cold air which dried her skin she maintained. I’d explained many times that if the doors, or windows, on the jet were leaking air she had much bigger worries than dry skin but Mother preferred to hear what she wished to hear. “Why are you here?”

“Say hello to Kuschel and Kumpel.”

I glanced down at the dog heads sticking out of the carry-on bags they were in. Both raised a lip. Buddy and Cuddles their names translated to in English. Their names didnotfit their temperaments.

“Hallo Hunde,” I coughed out. “I am not petting them. They hate me.”

“They hate all men but none as much as Father,” she replied casually as she sailed past me to settle the dogs into seats then lowered her slim backside down as well. “Where is the cabin hostess?”

“I’ve chosen to not have one as Edgar and I are fully capable of fetching drinks and warming a meal in the microwave,” I informed her.

The pilot, Karl Schmidt, a favored employee of Brauning Chocolate, and his copilot, his son Eike, peeked around the door to the cockpit. They had to have known mother was coming because they both called out warm hellos then returned to hiding in their comfy pilot zone.

“Honestly? Oh, Phillip, why would you do that? Well, there is no time to find one now. The pups will have to have Edgartend to their doggie needs.” Mother sighed as she crossed a long leg while daintily unwrapping a Ferragamo scarf from her perfectly coiffed dark hair. The scarf matched her dress, a white summer dress with an orchid pattern. “Sit please, I have not seen you in many months.” She patted the plush white seat beside her.

“I’ve been busy.” It was a lame excuse but a true one.

“Always too busy to visit your poor mother.” She sighed dramatically as she tucked her scarf into her white purse. “I know what you are going to say.” I cocked an eyebrow. “That I am not old.” I bobbed my head in agreement because saying she was old would get me an earful. Edgar climbed back into the jet, gave me a nod, and then went to the cockpit to inform them that all the luggage was stowed in the storage bins by the bathroom. Did he know my mother was joining us? It was hard to say. He was quite devoted to her still even though he now worked with me. Which led me to wonder where her personal assistant of the year was.

“Where is Dorothy?” I asked as the copilot rushed past to close and seal the door. Edgar sat across the walkway from us, the dogs snarling at him and Eike in equal measure. They truly did hate men with a passion. No wonder Opa disliked them so.

“Oh, she was let go a week ago. I was in Boston to see an old friend and she got too flirty with him. Pity really, for she knew how to press a dress off like no other, save for darling Edgar,” Mother said as she leaned up to blow a kiss to my factotum.

“Vielen Dank, Frau Brauning,” he huffed.

“Oh, well, that is a shame. Why are youherethough?” I asked, nodding at Eike as he returned to the cockpit after advising us to fasten our seatbelts and secure the dogs.

“I wished to go home for a few weeks. Berlin Design Week begins soon.”

Ah. Okay, that explained much. “So you drove from Boston to New Hampshire? Surely you could have taken a commercial flight and—” Her dark red lips pursed. “No, of course, that was silly of me to say.” Mother never flew commercial. She would sooner sit among the apes at the zoo then share a plane with sniveling babies and the unwashed masses. Her words, not mine.

“Oh, the plane is moving. You must hold one of the dogs,” she exclaimed as she opened one crate and removed a curly little bundle of fangs. “Now, now, Kuschel, do not be mean to your big brother. She is the less snippy one with men.”

“Mother I really do not— Ah, well yes, fine.” I took the dog, placed her on my lap, and did my best to keep my fingers from her mouth. Kuschel was not happy with the arrangement. Kumpel was fine, happy as a proverbial lark, as he was on Mother’s lap. The plane was barely in the air when the dogs began snapping at each other, the female highly disgruntled about the male being with my mother.

“Silly snits,” Mother giggled as she opened her arms. Kuschel leapt from my lap to hers, a few nips to her brother took place, and then they both curled up around each other. “Now, I am so very parched. Edgar, would you fetch me a vodka spritz?”

“Mother, it’s not even seven o’clock yet.” I hated to be a party pooper but someone had to do it.

She rolled her perfectly made-up eyes. “It is past noon in Berlin so an afternoon cocktail is permissible. Extra lime please, Edgar.”

“Yes, of course, Frau Brauning,” he said with aplomb as he unbuckled then made his way to the rear of the jet to mix a cocktail. At six fifty-three in the morning. Mein Gott.

“Phillip, you look so dour. Tell mother what is niggling at you,” she prompted as we soared higher and higher, leaving Haider and Caldwell Crossing behind. “I always can tell whenyou’re upset, your brow creases. You should work on not being so displeased, meine Perle.”

My pearl. She had called me that ever since I could recall. “I have a great deal on my mind.”

“Mm, yes, we all do. Did you know that Elga Koch reached out to me the other day to tell me that the Brandt sisters, those bloated cows, had the temerity to say that I had worn white before Memorial Day to Vesper Pichon the fashion editor atPearls & Pomp?!”

I eyeballed her white purse, shoes, and dress. “Youarewearing white before Memorial Day.”

“I know, and I find that to be dreadfully outdated. I shall wear white whenever I wish, and truly who cares about American holidays? Silly people running about wearing their flag as underwear while blowing their fingers off with firecrackers. Oh, and hot dogs! Imagine. Why do they not roast a brat if they wish to have something flavorful shoved between their buns?”

I snorted. I couldn’t help it. She deadpanned me. “Sorry, but that sounded quite funny.”

“Are you ten years old?”

“No, sadly, I wish I were.” I blew out a breath. Edgar returned with a vodka spritz for Mother and a cup of coffee for me. “Truly, I feel older than Opa.”

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