Free Branching Out by Kerstin March

deal with in the city.”
    â€œAnd here I was thinking you were starting to actually like Chicago.”
    â€œChicago is fine. It’s just not . . .”
    â€œHome?”
    â€œNo, it just doesn’t feel like home,” she admitted. “At least not yet .”
    â€œA little Swiss house. I like it. The only thing missing would be children—we’d have to have lots of children.”
    She skewered another bread chunk and drowned it in the vat of cheese.
    When she stopped playing along, he leaned forward to look into her eyes. “Shelby?”
    â€œHmm . . .”
    â€œYou okay?”
    â€œYep. It’s nothing,” she said, tapping her fondue fork against the rim of the pot. “One step at a time, right? It’s going to take me a while just to get used to being your wife, let alone someone’s mother.”
    â€œYou’re absolutely right,” he said, setting their conversation back on course. “In fact, we only have a few days left of this honeymoon. I don’t know about you, but I think we should head back to the chalet for some more adjustment time. . . .”
    â€œEver the charmer,” she said, and her smile returned.
    Â 
    On the last full day of their trip, Shelby and Ryan arose early in the morning and took a gondola up to Trockener Steg mountain station, a massive concrete structure that can withstand the harsh winds and temperatures during the coldest days of winter. On this day, the weather was bright and mild as the sun rose over the mountains and presented an exceptionally close view of the Matterhorn. They trekked down a marked trail and stopped at one point to look across the gorge to watch a small group of climbers scale the Matterhorn’s Hörnligrat ridge.
    Hours later, they arrived at Chalet Alpenrose, a humble mountainside restaurant that offered a cheerful welcome after an arduous hike; a cobalt blue entrance painted with spotted cows and flowering vines, and inside, lively music and the hearty whiff of cervelas sausages and ale coming from the kitchen.
    Since it was warm enough to stay outdoors, Shelby and Ryan found a table on the restaurant’s back deck. Against the sweeping backdrop of the mountains, they enjoyed two orders of Käseschnitte, which consisted of a thick slice of toasted bread soaked in wine and topped with broiled Emmental cheese and a fried egg. As Ryan had joked earlier on in the trip, a honeymoon wasn’t the time to hold back. They enjoyed every decadent morsel.
    After their meal, Shelby leaned her head back in her chair and closed her eyes to enjoy the midday sun, while Ryan took the opportunity to remove his cell phone from his pants pocket for a quick check. It chirped as soon as he turned it on.
    â€œHey, you need to put the phone away—we’ll be back in Chicago soon enough,” Shelby said with one eye open and her hand reaching for his phone. “I get you all to myself, at least for another day.”
    â€œI know; you’re right. This will just take a minute. I’m expecting something,” he said. “Then I’ll turn it off.”
    She closed her eyes and leaned back again. “Some kind of news?”
    â€œI can’t believe I can get a signal out here,” he said, distracted.
    She wasn’t as impressed as Ryan, preferring the sun on her face over cellular coverage.
    Then he saw it. A message from Cullie James, the videographer who had worked with Ryan on the Great Lakes feature. “This might be what I was waiting for,” he told her. “We’re waiting to hear back from our editorial review committee.”
    â€œThey’re going to love it.”
    Over the past year, Ryan had spent a considerable amount of time working on a film project that had stemmed from the Olen G. Meyers memorial fund that Ryan established shortly after Olen’s death. Under Ryan’s leadership, the film would serve as an extension of Chambers