Free Bad Wolf by Nele Neuhaus Page B

at all. Bodenstein decided to call Inka later to apologize.
    He finished his coffee and squeezed into the tiny, windowless bathroom. After the almost luxurious facilities in the hotel in Potsdam, it seemed darker and more cramped than ever.
    It was high time to arrange a proper place to live, with his own furniture, a decent bathroom, and a kitchen with more than just two hot plates. He’d had enough of the two rooms in the carriage house, with their low ceilings and the tiny windows that were hardly bigger than fortress embrasures, and the door frames, barely high enough for dwarfs, on which he was always hitting his head. He was also fed up with being a guest in the house of his parents and his brother, and he knew that his sister-in-law was looking for a more desirable tenant for the carriage house than some relative who only wanted to split the costs. She kept asking bluntly when he intended to move out, and lately she had even brought potential tenants by to look the place over.
    In the meager light of the forty-watt bulb above the mirror, Bodenstein shaved as best he could. To tell the truth, the house that he had looked at yesterday with Inka had haunted his dreams all night long. This morning, half-asleep, he had started furnishing it in his mind. Sophia would have her own room close to his, and finally he could have visitors again. The house in Kelkheim was as good as sold; it was due to close with the buyers next week. With his half of the proceeds, he was sure he could afford to buy the duplex in Ruppertshain.
    There was some sort of commotion outside, and he heard voices. A second cup of coffee raised his spirits. He set the cup in the sink, grabbed his jacket, and took the car keys from the hook by the front door. In the parking lot, city workers from Kelkheim were unloading barriers from their orange truck. It occurred to him that tonight there was going to be a jazz concert in the courtyard. The town regularly rented out the historic estate for cultural events, and Bodenstein’s parents were happy to have the extra income. Bodenstein locked the front door and nodded to the workers on his way to the car. Someone honked behind him, and he turned around. Marie-Louise, his talented sister-in-law, pulled in next to him.
    “Good morning!” she called. “I’ve tried to call you a zillion times. Rosalie got invited to the Concours des Jeunes Chefs Rôtisseurs in Frankfurt! Actually, she wanted to tell you herself, but she couldn’t reach you. What’s wrong with your cell phone?”
    Rosalie, Bodenstein’s older daughter, had decided two years ago not to take her university entrance exams, but instead to start an apprenticeship to become a chef. At first, he and Cosima had thought that the main reason for this decision was that Rosalie was secretly in love with a celebrity chef. They were sure that after a couple of months under the thumb of that strict Frenchman, she’d throw in the towel. But Rosalie had talent, and she’d tackled the job with enthusiasm. She had completed her apprenticeship with flying colors. The invitation to the cooking contest of the Chaîne des Rôtisseurs was a great honor and a validation of her achievement.
    “I haven’t had any reception all morning.” Bodenstein held up his smartphone with a shrug. “It’s funny, really.”
    “Well, I don’t understand a thing about those gizmos,” said Marie-Louise.
    “But I do!” Her eight-year-old son leaned forward from the backseat, waving his hand out the window. “Give it to me; I’ll show you.”
    Bodenstein handed his cell to his youngest nephew with a hint of amusement, but his grin vanished five seconds later.
    “It’s not working because you’ve got it in airplane mode, Uncle Ollie,” the precocious whippersnapper told him, sliding things around on the touch screen. “See, this is the airplane icon here. Now it’s working okay.”
    “Oh … thanks, Jonas,” Bodenstein stammered.
    The boy nodded to him from the