“Um, I’m sure Frau Wolff has plans for the evening.” Frau Lamm spoke without looking up from the dog that had stretched out on the floor, letting her towel-dry his belly.

Susanne’s plans consisted of reading up on the stationery business and trying to keep the cat from getting into her apartment any time she opened a door or window.

“Do you?” Miriam asked. “Because if you don’t, you’re welcome to stay and have dinner with us. Right, Anja?”

“Uh, yeah. Right.” Then, as if realizing how half-hearted her answer had come across, Frau Lamm got up from the floor and looked Susanne in the eyes. “Seriously, if you’re not in a hurry, stay. Miriam always gets enough to feed an army.”

“Never heard you complain about getting leftovers,” Miriam said.

“And you never will. I don’t know how it’s possible, but their food tastes even better the next day. So?”

They both looked at Susanne expectantly.

Susanne hesitated. Normally, she avoided socializing with co-workers. She had her own circle of friends, independent of work. But they were all in Berlin and London, while she didn’t know a soul except for Frau Lamm and Uncle Norbert in this little city. Suddenly, she found herself reluctant to return to her large, half-empty apartment. Must be all that rain, she told herself. It was messing with her mood, making her sentimental. “Is there space for me?” She gestured at the small, round table, which had only two chairs.

“Oh yeah.” Frau Lamm left the room. She rummaged around in the hallway and returned with a folding chair, which she unfolded and pushed up to the table. “Is this okay?”

“Sure.” Had she come across as so spoiled that Frau Lamm thought she needed a throne or something?

Miriam rubbed her hands together. “Come on. Let’s eat. I’m starving.” She took plates from the cupboard over the stove, apparently very familiar with where things were kept in Frau Lamm’s apartment. She opened the food containers and glanced over her shoulder at Susanne. “Do you like it ho—?”

Frau Lamm clamped her hand over her friend’s mouth and nudged her aside. “What she’s trying to ask is if you like spicy food.”

Their antics made Susanne bite back a grin. Their dynamic reminded her a little of herself and her twin sister. She really should call Franzi this weekend. “I love it. Whenever I was in London for work, I ate nothing but Indian food. They had a chicken jalfrezi that was to die for.”

“Sorry, no chicken jalfrezi tonight,” Miriam said. “We usually get just veggie options so we can share. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

They took their seats around the small table, while Gino sniffed the floor in the tiny kitchen as if looking for dropped morsels.

“Gino, go lie down.” Miriam pointed to the space behind the dividing wall.