Page 7 of Enchanted in Time
“A man in a yellow coat.”
“Why would the mailman hand you a letter that has no stamp?”
“What a noble crest!” Frieda commented, leaning so close to Hannah that her large, gray curls were brushing against her cheek.
The coat of arms consisted of a shield divided into four parts. The four panels featured a roaring bear, a long sword, a golden chalice, and white lilies. Emblazoned above the shield was a crown, and winding around the shield and the crown were rose tendrils.
Leon was jumping up and down with excitement. “Does that coat of arms belong to a real knight?”
“I don’t know.” Hannah looked at the back, but there was no return address. “Who would send me a letter like this?”
“The king who has the coat of arms!” Emi exclaimed, her little brown eyes sparkling. “Mommy got a letter from a king!”
“Maybe a fairy-tale prince is courting you, Mrs. Meyer. You’re still young enough.”
“Me and my three adorable children?” Hannah raised one eyebrow. Princes were only for single young women who had their entire lives before them and certainly no children.
Frieda raised her forefinger in rebuke. “Never lose hope! Now open it so we can see what’s inside the envelope!”
Hannah resisted the urge to say that it was none of her nosy neighbor’s business, and she was about to open the letter when she realized they were all still standing in the stairwell. “Let’s open it inside!”
Frieda beamed expectantly, and Hannah gave in and invited her neighbor into the apartment. It was a good thing she’d cleaned it the night before! Even so, Frieda still stumbled over Emi’s sandals, which the little girl had carelessly tossed on the floor of the narrow hallway instead of sticking them in the shoe organizer that was mounted on the wall.
“Try not to trip! Emi, you’re not supposed to leave your shoes just lying around!”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” her neighbor said, laughing, and quickly set the sandals to the side. She then followed the children into the living room—which Hannah always found to be small but extremely cozy—and sat down with them on the dark blue couch next to Marco, who was leafing through a soccer magazine.
Marco gave her a questioning look. “Hello, Marco, your mother received a letter,” Frieda said, so as to explain why she was there. She pointed to Hannah, who was coming up behind them, her eyes glued to the letter she was holding in her hands.
Marco shrugged and went back to the post-match analysis for his favorite team, while Emi and Leon jumped up and down impatiently. “Open it! Open it!”
Hannah took a pair of scissors from the top dresser drawer to avoid having to tear the pretty envelope, then cautiously slit it open. Such a precious letter. Whatever was inside, she wanted to avoid damaging it at all costs.
The envelope had a red liner, and inside it was a thick sheet of white paper. Hannah carefully pulled it out. It felt stiffer and smoother than ordinary writing paper. Was it parchment?
She unfolded the sheet of paper and stopped short. The large, curved characters jumped out at her, and she was so surprised by the official and dignified presentation of this beautifully formed writing that she could hardly decipher the meaning of the letters. Who would go to such lengths to send her such a beautifully presented message?
“What does the letter say?” Frieda, Emi, and Leon all asked at once. Even Marco lowered his magazine.
Hannah kept staring at the parchment in her hand until it occurred to her what she was holding. “It’s an invitation.”
“An invitation? To what?” Marco asked, curious.
“Let’s see, Mommy, let’s see!” the little kids cried.
Hannah crouched down beside them and set the pretty invitation on the wobbly coffee table, and immediately they all bent over it to take a look.
“It’s an invitation to a ball,” Marco said, grumbling. “Who goes to that kind of thing anymore?”
“You’ve been invited to a real ball?” Emi squealed. “By a real live king?”
“That’s wonderful!” Frieda clapped her hands and somehow managed to make herself heard over the children’s excited shouting.
Hannah stared at the invitation, unable to believe she was holding a letter of this sort in her hands. “This has got to be a mix-up. Or a joke. Someone is playing a joke on me!”
“No, Mama, it’s real. Just look at the coat of arms!” Leon insisted.
Marco read on: “‘The ball shall be held at Lichtenberg Castle.’ That old heap? That’s just a decrepit old ruin. How are they going to hold a ball there?”
