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She silently nodded.
A gust of wind blew right through her jacket. The fog shifted once more, and only then did Meghan realize they were walking in clouds. The welcoming building stood right in front of them. Its red roof was such a contrast against the dark green forest. Meghan wondered if the color was chosen on purpose to act as a beacon in bad weather conditions.
The restaurant smelled of beer and home-cooked meals. Meghan hesitated at the door, expecting a hostess to seat them, but Oliver walked right to a table and pulled out a chair for her. Meghan sat; her eyes immediately drawn to a large painting of a bearded man.
“Who is that?”
“Praded, a mythical figure, patron and guardian the mountains.”
A friendly waitress stopped at their table, and Oliver placed their order with her. “I asked for a peppermint tea for you. That should help settle your stomach.”
“Thank you.” Meghan toyed with her napkin. When she looked up, Oliver was watching her. Their eyes met. Meghan wanted to reach for his hand. There was something tangible in the way he looked at her. Kindness, a touch of mystery, and—she wouldn’t go there. Admitting that she sensed that he was attracted to her would mean she would have to be honest with herself and accept that the feeling was far from one-sided.
“How about a story?” Meghan hoped that shifting focus from her inner turmoil to a local legend would help to convince herself that Oliver wasn’t really looking at her inthatway.
“Which story would you like? The mythicalPradedlegend, the Elf in front of the restaurant, or the mill?”
“I think I will pick the mill since that is where we are headed.”
“That is the least pleasant one.” His face turned somber.
A twinge of anxiety built in her chest. “Still, I think I would like to know the history of my place.”
He frowned, perhaps surprised by her use of the possessive pronoun.
The server set two white teapots in front of them, arranged on a silver tray next to matching teacups and saucers. Even in the mountains, the Czechs took their service seriously.
She added a packet of sugar to her tea. The spoon clinked against the teacup as she stirred it in.
“Remember Karel? Your great uncle’s friend?”
She nodded.
“Karel Kopal became a pilot with the Czechoslovakian air force.”
“What does that have to do with the mill?”
“After the Nazis disbanded the Czech military, including the air force, Karel came back and fell in love with Marta.”
“My grandfather’s sister, correct?”
“You had paid attention.” He smiled. Karel later flew for the RAF, but that’s another story.
Meghan sipped her tea, watching him over the rim of her cup. How old was this guy? And why was he still single? None of her teachers were ever this good-looking. She set the cup down.
What am I thinking?
She had eleven more days in this country. Once she made up her mind about what to do with her inherited mill in some remote valley among the mountains of Northern Moravia, she would fly home. Unsure what her future held, she couldn’t see that a long-distance relationship with a Czech high school teacher would fit into that plan.
“What’s going on in the cute head of yours?” Oliver asked.
Is he trying to flirt with me?
Meghan gulped. She quickly reached for the teapot and refilled her empty cup. “I was just thinking.”
“About?” His eyes met hers.
“About the mill and how all of this fits into my future,” she replied, not willing to lie but also unprepared to share all her thoughts.