The Golden Peaks by Eleanor Farnes Page B

when they had been working hard for more than two hours after dinner, and had come to a weary stop, Anneliese went into the small kitchen to make coffee for them. She rar el y came into this room to perform any small task without imagining herself the mistress of it; dreaming that it and the rest of the chalet and Kurt himself were hers. She carried the coffee into the living room, and Kurt said:
    “Can you come to the Mirabella with me, Anneliese?” She looked up, and pondered for a moment.
    “What a time to ask me, when we are so busy!”
    “For two days only—perhaps three.”
    ‘Two or three days! Only! Why, I cannot manage to be away for two or three days now. It is impossible at the moment. All these bookings for Easter, and so many inquiries, and so much to do. No, really I think it cannot be done.”
    “Pity. I need somebody.”
    “Maria at the Mirabella will help you.”
    “She will be as busy with her work as you are with yours. But think no more of it. Something can be arranged. Perhaps there is somebody else there.”
    “I should hope so,” said Anneliese dryly. “They have a big enough staff down there.”
    “A much bigger hotel to run.”
    They drank their coffee. Kurt asked about her parents and brothers and for a few minutes they talked of them. “And Rudi?” asked Kurt “How is he ?”
    “Ach! Rudi.”
    “What has Rudi done to deserve such contempt? Do you hear from him?”
    “When do I not hear? He writes twice a week.”
    “And you write twice a week?”
    “Not once. About once in a month.”
    “How unkind you are, Anneliese.”
    “Once I start to be kind to Rudi, my peace is for ever at an end.”
    “His only crime is that he adores you too mu ch .”
    “I have no patience with him. I do not wish to discuss him. Rudi writes, Rudi’s mother writes, my mother writes —all of the same thing. When will I consent to this marriage? When will they understand that I do not wish to marry Rudi?”
    “Seriously, Anneliese, he is a fine young man.”
    “We will not speak of him.”
    “As you say ... Y ou really think you cannot manag e the Mirabella, Anneliese?”
    “Really, it would be difficult. It would m ake such a muddle here. I think I should stay. ”
    “Very well.”
    Next morning, he packed his bag for a few days at the Mirabella in the south. Once he had arranged thing s there, and was satisfied that everything was going as it should, he could safely leave everything in his manager’s hands, and spend the busy Easter period at the Rotih orn . It was an exceptionally sunny, clear morning, and he whistled and sang as he shaved and dressed. Roberto, the hotel porter brought him his breakfast from the hotel, and Kurt sat down to his hot rolls and coffee. He would stop at the office for a short session with Anneliese and then he would be off. It would take most of the day to reach the Mirabella, but perhaps he could manage a pr eliminar y discussion of affairs that same evening. Then a full day of work tomorrow, and with luck, he would be able to return the fo ll ow in g day; at most, the day after. Impatient to be off, he despatched his breakfast quickly, picked up his bag, and walked the pathway to the hotel.
    Pity about Anneliese, he thought. She was so efficient and could be the soul of discretion; while Maria at the Mirabella, efficient as she also was, had not Anneliese’s discretion, and one co uld never be sure that the privacy of private matters was safe in her hands. It was her un cl e who was manager there and he was definitely indispensable s o Maria must be endured. Maria would have to do.
    He dropped his bag in the hall. He told Roberto to bring round the car. He gave a brisk good morning to the guests he encountered, inquired about their activities, and hoped they were being well looked after. He turned into t he corridor that led to his office, and saw Celia emerging from the dining room . The sunlight fell on her, and made a brilliant aureole of her auburn hair.