Free Winter in Full Bloom by Anita Higman Page B

are you taking me?”
    “Do you like chocolate?” Marcus asked.
    “Who doesn’t?” Funny how the thought of chocolate added a pleasant lilt to my voice, but then chocolate is, after all, a woman’s best friend.
    “I know just the place. In my opinion, Melbourne has the best chocolate shops in the world. Some of them are nestled in the laneways.”
    It sounded like a tasty adventure.
    A cluster of guests scurried in through the lobby doors and brushed by us, laughing. “So, tell me, what are laneways?”
    “They’re alleyways crammed full of cafés and galleries and bustling with life.” Marcus made circling gestures with his hands. “You’ll love ’em. But before we go there, maybe we should check in with Rowan at St. Paul’s. Maybe he found some time to look over the membership records for your sister.”
    “Rowan did say he’d call if anything turned up.”
    “Did you get any phone messages?” Marcus asked.
    “No.”
    “Well, just in case he forgot, it wouldn’t hurt to swing by the cathedral.”
    “Good idea.”
    Marcus knelt down in front of me. “Your shoe, my lady.”
    “My shoe?”
    “You’ve come undone.”
    I looked down at my shoelaces, one of which had indeed come untied.
    Marcus gestured for me to place my shoe on his knee, and after I obeyed, he gingerly tied my shoestring. “Falling is easier than you think, Love.”
    He stared up at me. His expression waded into waters deep enough to drown in, but before I could even think to respond, he gave my shoe a pat and stood. “Shall we?”
    “We shall.”
    Marcus placed his hand at my back and escorted me through the sliding glass doors of the hotel. Even though I barely felt his hand through my layers of fabric, the encounter caused an awakening inside me, like the first tentative signs of spring after a long winter. Yes, it was an apt description, and one I didn’t shy away from.
    Marcus gave me bits of data about the area as we strolled along the river, which turned out to be much more than just a waterway. The longer I stayed the more I could feel it—the Yarra was the center of life, the heartbeat of the city—and I felt glad to be a part of that pulsing vitality.
    As we crossed one of the bridges and headed toward St. Paul’s, Marcus said, “Since you seem to like touristy information, you might like to know that this bridge we’re walking on is called Princes Bridge, and it was constructed in 1888. The bridge was named after Edward, the Prince of Wales, and there’s another one similar to it in London.”
    “Ahh. Well, it’s beautiful. And I especially like the balustrade and the old lamplights. So ornate. Makes me think of something out of a Dickens novel.”
    “I can almost see the police dashing past us as they chase after the Artful Dodger.”
    I grinned. My glance at him lingered. Marcus had turned out to be more than I’d imagined. Funny how first impressions almost always came up wrong. Perhaps I’d judged too quickly. In the midst of my musings about Marcus, my mind wandered back toward my sister and the missing puzzle pieces. If only we could find her, so much would be answered and made right again. Could our paths have already crossed on the streets, and I’d missed her?
    We approached St. Paul’s Cathedral and trotted up the concrete steps. Once inside we made our way to the gift shop counter. Rowan was there, and he lit up when he saw Marcus.
    “How are ya?” Marcus shook Rowan’s hand.
    “Good.” The older man adjusted his bowtie. “Thanks for helping out the other night with the teens. I’m not very experienced around young people. They’ve got this new language and so many techy gizmos I don’t always know what to say to connect with them. But they like you.”
    Marcus leaned on the counter. “Probably because I’m still a kid.”
    Rowan laughed.
    “They’ll warm up to you,” Marcus said. “So, how’s the missus?”
    “She’s well. Thanks.” Rowan turned to me. “It’s Lily. I