Anja knew him—he wanted to be alone to think about whatever his niece had told him. She wanted to stay behind and talk him out of following her advice, but she’d already told them she would be heading out for lunch. Under Susanne’s watchful eyes, she didn’t have a choice. She grabbed her messenger bag from behind the cash register and fled.

Susanne walked along the cobblestone street, glad to escape the little store for a while. Telling a company’s owner that it might become necessary to fire people was never easy, but usually, she could hide behind the shield of professionalism. Not this time. The devastation on her uncle’s face made her stomach feel as if it were a sheet of paper that someone had crumpled into a little ball.

Oh, now you’re using paper analogies? She definitely needed to take a step back and regain a healthy emotional distance—starting with having lunch, even though she’d lost her appetite. She’d just grab a quick bite somewhere and then head back to the store to see if Uncle Norbert was ready to talk about the steps necessary to save his business.

Enticing scents drew her to a food court that had been set up in what appeared to be an old newspaper building. The aromas of dishes from all over the world—Persian, Afghan, Brazilian, Mexican, Chinese, Italian, and German—made her mouth water, but the court was incredibly crowded, and she wasn’t in the mood to eat squeezed in between strangers at a tiny bar table, so she walked on.

The bells of the Münster, the cathedral towering over the Old Town, announced that it was one o’clock. Wasn’t there a farmers market with food stands at the Münsterplatz? That should be quick.

Susanne headed in that direction. The scent of fresh flowers and frying onions greeted her before she had even reached the square. The crowd of shoppers had thinned, and most of the vendors were already packing up their fruit, vegetables, cheeses, breads, and homemade jams, but the sausage stands along one side of the Gothic red sandstone cathedral were still doing good business.

Maybe Uncle Norbert should invest in a food trailer instead. With a wry smile, she got in line and tried not to feel bad for her uncle or Frau Lamm. There was no place for sentimentality in business.

For several minutes, Anja wandered aimlessly without paying the slightest attention to where she was going. If it hadn’t been for the finely honed instincts of someone who’d lived here for years, she would have probably stepped into a Bächle too. She followed one of the narrow canals through an alley and ended up at the Münsterplatz, with the towering cathedral in its middle.