Splash, splash, splash. Her left boot squished with every step and left puddles of water on the tiled floor. She tried her best to ignore it and appear professional. “My name is Susanne Wolff. I’m looking for Norbert. Is he in?”

“Of course. Um, Nobby?” the woman called toward the back of the room, where an open door led to what might be the office or a supply room. “There’s someone here for you. And, um, could you bring the mop while you’re back there?”

Nobby? Her uncle was not only on a first-name basis with his employee but also allowed her to call him by his nickname? Such familiarities with employees were often a bad idea. It was high time someone with a clue about managing a business took over.

Things around here would change; she’d make sure of that—as soon as she’d gotten out of this wet boot.

Her uncle entered the sales area through the door in the back. He was a little balder and grayer than she remembered, but he immediately put down the mop and came toward her with open arms. “Susi! There you are!”

“I go by Susanne now.” Only her twin sister was still allowed to call her by her childhood nickname.

“Oh. Of course.” He squeezed her tightly, then let go and took a step back to look her over. “You look great. You’re the spitting image of your father. But, um, what happened to your boot?”

Being compared to her father didn’t exactly improve Susanne’s mood. With a grunt, she shook her left foot. Her cold, wet toes felt as if they were about to fall off. “I stepped into a gutter.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, pointing at the death trap.

“It’s not a gutter,” the employee said softly. “It’s a Bächle.”

“I know what it’s called, but frankly, I don’t care. Who the hell puts uncovered waterways in the middle of the street? Someone could break a leg!”

The employee didn’t back away from Susanne’s glare. With her elfin features and her slight build, she might have looked like a pushover, but the tiny cleft in her stubborn chin declared that she wouldn’t let herself be intimidated. “Well, look on the bright side.”

A snort escaped Susanne. Oh Christ. She’s one of those the-glass-is-half-full Pollyanna types. Not that she had anything against a positive attitude, but rose-colored glasses wouldn’t help them save the store. “There’s a bright side to ruining my favorite pair of boots?”

“Oh yes.” The woman’s smile was irritatingly unshakable. “Legend has it that if you accidentally step into a Bächle, you’ll marry a local guy and live happily ever after in our beautiful city.”

Susanne nearly spat out the sip of coffee she’d just taken. “That’s the last thing I want.”