Page 62 of Valor (Long Hot Summer: Christian Romantic Suspense #2)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Northern Moravia, 2025

Meghan savored the intense scent of coffee. Her stomach instantly rumbled at the sight of the rows of artisan cakes and cookies. No wonder Oliver liked this place. Soft classical music played in the background as she checked out the purple plush chairs neatly arranged around white marble bistro tables. Each one was adorned with a silver tray holding a sugar dispenser and a vase with purple roses. This place was beyond charming.

“What can I get you?” Oliver asked.

Meghan couldn’t decide. The coffee was the easy choice here. Three TV screens displayed the selection on offer next to the tempting ice cream parfaits. A glass counter stretched along two walls of the coffee shop. The L-shaped display was filled with such an array of delicate desserts that her mouth instantly watered.

“Why don’t you get me your favorite? I trust your taste.”

“Okay,” he smiled. “Grab us a table then. I’ll bring everything over.”

Meghan settled by the storefront window that overlooked the parking lot. She let her mind wander to the interrupted conversation they had in the car. What was he going to tell her? His comment about the bitter taste made her a little nervous. Her breath caught as a black SUV, identical to the two vehicles that almost caused them to crash, passed by the storefront window.

“I hope you like this.” Oliver set a plate with two desserts in front of her.

She blinked. If she told him about the car, would he think her paranoid?

“Oh wow,” Meghan said, picking up a spoon and examining the scrumptious-looking works of art on her plate. She lowered her gaze and whispered a prayer of gratitude.

When she looked up, Oliver’s eyes were trained on her.

“Did you just pray?”

“Yes.” Was this strange to him? “We always say thanks before our meals.”

“I didn’t know you were a religious person.”

She contemplated her answer for a beat. “I’m not. It’s more a relationship for me.”

“A relationship?”

“With God, and of course Jesus.” She subconsciously fingered the pendant on her necklace.

He held her gaze for a moment, and she was sure that he wanted to say something, but instead, he picked up his spoon.

“The lattes will be here shortly.” His smile was warm and kind. “You can choose to wait,” he winked at her. “Or just dig in. I won’t think less of you.”

“I think the correct answer is behind the door number two,” she joked.

“Pardon me?”

“Sorry, it’s a take on an old game show. What I mean is I don’t think I have the self-control to wait patiently till someone brings me the coffee. What’s this one?” Meghan sunk her spoon into the soft glaze, covering a round pastry filled with two kinds of cream. “It looks so good.”

“It’s called the pinwheel. The filling is a special custard and, of course, whipped cream. We tend to use whipped cream a lot.” He grinned. Unlike Meghan, Oliver went straight for the filling. “This never gets old.” He licked his spoon as a server set two large lattes in front of them.

“Thank you,” Meghan looked up from her plate of treats, followed Oliver’s example, and spooned off a good helping of the custard. “Hmm.” Meghan licked the spoon. “Now I understand.”

“Glad you like it,” Oliver chuckled.

“I must say,” she said between bites, “you piqued my curiosity with your comment,” Meghan reached for the steaming cup.

“The story of the mill? I will tell you what I know, but let me warn you, it’s not exactly a children’s bedtime story.” He used the edge of his spoon to cut into his chocolate tort, topped with a layer of whipped cream.

Meghan did likewise.

Thankfully, I’m not lactose intolerant.

She licked her spoon. “Is there enough sugar on this table to compensate for what you about to tell me?”

His eyes met hers. “I teach history at the local high school.”

“I know.”

“You do?” His right eyebrow arched.

Cute

“How?” A soft frown clouded his forehead.

“My mother works for the CIA,” she said in a serious tone.

He knitted his eyebrows.

“Okay, the girl at the train station told me.”

“You almost got me there.”

“Almost?” Meghan laughed. “You must know from the movies that the agents are not allowed to disclose their affiliation under any circumstances.”

“So, you are telling me, there is a possibility that you are working for them too?”

Meghan spooned off another delicious helping of the pinwheel pastry. “I choose to neither confirm or deny.” She laughed.

He held her gaze as if wondering if she could be serious.

“I’m a Canadian. We don’t work for the CIA.” She felt the need to clarify.

“Not even part-time?” He lifted his cup and took a sip, his eyes pinned on her.

“Nope. Anyway, why don’t you tell me the story.”

“I love history, especially when it pertains to this town.”

“Okay.”

Is he stalling?

After a long pause, Oliver finally spoke.

“What do you know about your grandpa?” He finished the chocolate tort.

Meghan was a little taken aback. She was hoping for an intriguing narrative, not a series of questions.

“Not much. He was an angry man. I don’t speak Czech, so we didn’t get to talk much, and from what I remember, he wasn’t very happy that we were here. But I have already told you this.”

“Yes, and I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you. Mom would call him periodically, but at times, she couldn’t get hold of him for weeks. And then he would call, out of the blue, and accuse her of never calling him. I always felt that he was like this black cloud hanging over her head. The only good thing was that he lived so far away.”

“Coming here wasn’t easy for you.”

She dropped her gaze. The flight across the ocean and the train ride—that was a breeze. What worried her was the man in the fedora, seemingly popping up on every corner.

Oliver cleared his throat. “The mill has been in your family for four generations.”

Meghan looked up.

“Your great-grandfather bought it from the family that built it. It was constructed in 1826, with some improvements along the way, but the main stone structure dates back to the early 19 th century.”

Meghan reached for her phone. “Mind if I take some notes?”

A smile cracked the history teacher’s face. “Of course. There will be a quiz next week.”

Meghan chuckled. Her thumbs glided across the screen. “Okay,” she looked up.

“Your family took over the mill in 1933. And that is significant because that is the year when—” Oliver pointed at her, waiting for an answer.

Meghan frowned. Was he testing her?

“The Great Depression was in full swing?” She would humor him, this once.

“Yes, but it was also the year Hitler became the chancellor of Germany. Your great-grandfather had a small textile manufacturing company, but he sold it and bought the mill. He must have figured out that food would be of much greater value than fabric in the upcoming years.”

“How would he have known that?”

“He had been a legionnaire during WWI.”

“A legionnaire?”

Oliver leaned back. “Well, I will save that story for our second date, but it may explain why he seemed a bit rough around the edges. There was no help available for veterans suffering from PTSD then, or as they called it, shell shock.”

Date? She decided that the correct meaning of this word must have slipped, as English was his what? Fourth language?

“Okay, go on.” Meghan sipped her coffee.

“Having two sons, he must have thought running a mill would be manageable.”

“Wait a minute.” Meghan set her spoon down. “Grandpa had a brother?”

“Yes, and a sister.”

“I have heard nothing about that.”

“Hmm. Just wait; the story gets even more interesting.”

Meghan inched forward.

“This region was called Sudetenland before and during WWII. Over 85 percent of the population was German. They were the descendants of the Germanic migrants who immigrated into the Kingdom of Bohemia in the 11 th century.”

“I don’t want to be rude,” Meghan set down her spoon, “but if we are going back to Adam and Eve, I will need another coffee.”

“Sorry, you can’t say I didn’t warn you. The history of this place fascinates me.”

“I see that, but how does that relate to the mill?”

“The Munich agreement was signed on September 30, 1938, but you most likely knew that.”

She didn’t.

“And after that, this territory became a part of Germany. The locals were thrilled; there were over three million of them in the border towns of Czechoslovakia, most of them Catholic.”

Meghan took a deep breath. Was this guy going to recite the entire Wikipedia?

“So, you are telling me we have German roots?”

“Actually, your family is Czech. Your grandfather’s brother worked on the fortification project, and to do that, every man was vetted, going back for four generations, ensuring that they had no German ancestry.”

“What fortification?”

“Have you heard of the French Maginot Line?”

She shook her head. WWII wasn’t her thing, not in the least.

“The Czechoslovakian government started to build something similar in 1935. Your great-grandfather sold flour to that military project, and your great-uncle worked there.”

“Okay, how does that relate to the mill, aside from the flour.”

“That is where your uncle Honza met Karel.”

“Who is Karel?”

“He is a big part of this story. By the time Hitler took over Czechoslovakia and discharged the Czech military, including the air force, Karel Kral was a pilot. He came home, back to this region. Honza must have convinced your great-grandfather to hire him.”

“Okay, I still don’t understand what that has to do with me inheriting this mill.” Meghan cut into the chocolate torte. She forked a small piece of the cake and put it in her mouth. The rich flavor surprised her. “Oh, my goodness. This is amazing,” she said, trying to keep her mouth closed. She cut another chunk and motioned to Oliver to continue.

“He lived at the mill with the family.”

Meghan nodded affirmatively, as her mouth was full of the chocolate delight.

“Karel fell in love with Marta.”

“Who is Marta?”

“Your great-aunt.”

“I have never heard of her. How do you know all this?”

“I told you. Local history is my thing.”

Meghan eyed him suspiciously. His knowledge extended far beyond what she considered high school curriculum. Oliver knew details about her family that even Mom didn’t. Or perhaps she had known about this great-uncle and aunt but chose never to mention them. The question was why. She would call her tonight and ask.

“I may need to sign up for an Ancestry account,” Meghan chuckled, deciding to lighten up the conversation and not make a huge deal out of Oliver’s interest in her family until she knew more. Maybe if she let him finish the story, he would tell her the entire truth because right now, she was convinced Oliver had not been completely honest with her.

“That may be a good idea because there is a lot more that you may not know.”

Was that a direct confirmation of her suspicions of him holding out on her?

“But perhaps we should go get those groceries now.” He added and finished his coffee.

Meghan sipped the last bit of her latte, her eyes probing his. She liked a man with a touch of mystery, and there was much more to Oliver Skala than he let on. Meghan doubted that he had found all those details about her family in some old history textbook.

* * *

Had he said too much? She obviously didn’t think that he shared enough. The beautiful woman in front of him was such a keen listener. With a tinge of regret, he looked over the empty dishes on the table. This coffee date was over.

Date? Get hold of yourself. This is an assignment. Be professional.

Of course. Oliver shot her a smile and then pushed back his chair.

“Shall we?”

Meghan nodded, her face an unreadable mask. Oliver could tell that she was thinking about all that he’d said to her. He wanted her to do that because she needed to see the entire picture. The mill was a crucial location for the agency’s investigation, and he would need her permission to conduct an extensive search of the property. Permission that Fred had refused to grant while he was alive. But Fred was an old, angry man who did not trust anyone. It still puzzled Oliver why he would choose Meghan as his beneficiary and not his daughter. Did Kate tell him she didn’t care for the remote piece of land? But why would she put that on Meghan?

“May I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

He held the door open for her. Meghan brushed by him, and Oliver caught the scent of her perfume. It made his senses so aware of her presence that he had to restrain himself from touching her. He cleared his throat as he let the door shut behind them.

“How does your mom feel about you getting the inheritance?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s usually the children who inherit the estate, not the grandchildren.”

She halted. “Are you suggesting I tricked Grandpa into disinheriting Mom?” Her tone turned sharp.

He raised his hands in protest.

“Of course not. But I wonder how she feels about all of this.” He continued as they walked down the sidewalk toward the supermarket. “You came alone to assume ownership of a property you had most likely never seen. That is all that I meant.”

She halted and studied him for a beat. “You ask a lot of personal questions for someone I only met yesterday.”

Meghan turned and continued walking.

Oliver followed. Had he just blown it? Time for damage control.

“Meghan,” he quietly called after her. Thankfully, she slowed down and let him catch up. He had to tread carefully.

“I’m sorry,” he said under his breath when he caught up to her. The scent of flowers again. His brain tried to decode the fresh notes that reminded him of spring.

Meghan slowed her pace. “I don’t like it when people assume the worst before they actually take time to get to know me.”

“I’m sorry.” He packed as much sincerity into his voice as he could. “All I wanted to ask was why are you here dealing with the estate instead of your mom. But that is none of my business.” His voice dropped when a woman turned around and blatantly stared at them. Oliver couldn’t afford to cause a scene. He had to win back Meghan’s trust.

“Mom had told Grandpa years ago that she didn’t want anything to do with his property. I think he hoped that she would return to the Czech Republic one day. But she spent most of her life in Canada. Besides, my dad doesn’t speak the language. I guess Grandpa thought that I might consider living in Europe. But I have no desire to move to a different continent. So, I came here to settle things, once and for all.”

As if a bucket of ice-cold water just dropped on his head, Oliver understood the reality of things. She had not come here to scout her options. Meghan made the trip to settle the paperwork. And once the sorry business was over, she would be on the first flight back to Canada. Why would she think of anything else?

The automated door to the supermarket swished open. What was wrong with him? This was so not his MO. He had a case to close, and she was a vital part of that assignment. Meghan was here for two weeks. That much he knew from her Airbnb reservation. There was no future in this strange infatuation.

Focus on the job, Oliver. Focus.