Snow White Must Die (Bodenstein & Kirchhoff, #4)(24)

“Take the elevator to the eighth floor,” Nadia’s cheerful voice told him over the intercom. The buzzer sounded and Tobias entered the foyer of the building, which was extravagantly adorned with granite and glass. The glass-enclosed elevator whisked him in seconds all the way to the top, with a fantastic view of the Frankfurt skyline across the water. The city had certainly changed in recent years. There were many new skyscrapers.

“There you are!” Nadia welcomed him radiantly as he stepped out of the elevator on the eighth floor. He clumsily handed her the bouquet wrapped in cellophane, which he had bought at a gas station.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.” She took the bouquet, grabbed his hand, and led him into the apartment, which took his breath away. The penthouse was gigantic. Huge picture windows all the way to the shiny parquet floor offered spectacular views in all directions. A fire crackled in the fireplace, the warm voice of Leonard Cohen filtered from invisible loudspeakers, and discreet lighting and burning candles lent the already spacious rooms even more depth. For a moment Tobias was tempted to turn on his heel and run away. He was not an envious person, but the sight of this dream apartment made him feel even more like a pathetic failure and tied his throat in knots. He and Nadia were worlds apart. What the hell did she want from him? She was famous, she was rich, she was beautiful—surely she could spend her evenings with other prosperous, amusing, and stimulating people instead of with an embittered ex-con like him.

“Let me have your jacket,” she said. He took it off and instantly felt ashamed of the cheap, shabby thing. Nadia proudly led him into the big kitchen that opened onto the living room. A butcher’s block stood in the middle, granite and stainless steel predominated, and the stylish appliances were by Gaggenau. There was a tantalizing aroma of roast meat, and Tobias could feel his stomach growling. He had spent the whole day slaving away at the farm sorting trash, hardly taking time for a break. Nadia took a bottle of Mo?t & Chandon out of the gleaming stainless steel refrigerator as she told him that she had acquired the apartment only as a pied-à-terre for the times when she stayed overnight in Frankfurt—she couldn’t stand hotels. But for now it was her main residence. She poured champagne into two crystal flutes and handed him one.

“I’m happy you could come,” she said with a smile.

“And I thank you for the invitation,” replied Tobias, who had recovered from the initial shock and was able to return her smile.

“To you,” Nadia said, clinking her glass softly against his.

“No, to you,” Tobias answered seriously. “Thanks for everything.”

How lovely she was. In the past her almost androgynous face with the sweet freckles had always seemed a bit angular, but now it had softened and her bright eyes sparkled. She had pulled back her honey-blond hair into a knot, but a few strands had come loose, hanging in tendrils against her lightly tanned neck. She was slender, but not too thin. Her teeth between the full lips were white and regular, the result of those hated braces from her teen years.

They smiled at each other and took another sip of champagne, but all at once the face of another woman appeared in front of Nadia’s. This was precisely how he had wanted to live with Stefanie, after they finished medical school, when he was making a good living as a doctor. He had been convinced that she was the love of his life; he had dreamed of their future together, of children …

“What is it?” Nadia asked. Tobias met her concerned gaze.

“Nothing. What do you mean?”

“You suddenly looked so upset.”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I had champagne?” He forced himself to grin, but the memory of Stefanie had cut him to the quick. After all these years, he still couldn’t stop thinking about her. The dream of complete happiness had lasted only a brief four weeks, and it had ended in catastrophe.

He banished the unwelcome thoughts and sat down at the table in the kitchen, which Nadia had set so beautifully. There was tortelloni filled with ricotta and spinach, a perfectly cooked beef filet with a Barolo sauce, arugula salad with shaved Parmesan cheese, and a wonderful bottle of 1992 Pomerol.

Tobias discovered that, contrary to what he had feared, he found it easy to talk with Nadia. She told him about her work, including some funny episodes and odd encounters—and in an amusing way, without mentioning how successful she was. After the third glass of red wine Tobias started to feel its effects. They left the kitchen and took seats on the leather couch in the living room, she in one corner, he in the other. Like old friends. Over the fireplace hung a framed movie poster from Nadia’s first feature film—the only reminder of her great success as an actress.

“It’s incredible what you’ve achieved,” said Tobias pensively. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Thank you very much.” She smiled and tucked one leg under her. “It’s strange—who would have thought it possible when we were kids: Ugly duckling Nathalie becomes a big movie star.”

“But you were never ugly,” countered Tobias, astounded that she had ever viewed herself that way.

“Well, you never considered me attractive.”

For the first time that evening their conversation was approaching the delicate topic that they had both been carefully avoiding.

“But you were always my best friend,” said Tobias. “All the other girls were jealous because I spent so much time with you.”