Your Perfect Year(127)
Mr. Dachshund nodded. “Yes. I’ve got a really important project I need to have completed by the end of next week. My mother was going to take care of my daughter for me, because daycare isn’t open until January sixth. But today, of all days, she slipped on a patch of ice and fell. Now she’s in the hospital with both legs broken.”
“Oh, that’s really bad luck!” Lisa finally found her voice, although she didn’t sound very regretful.
“You could say that!” the man replied, giving Lisa such a broad smile that it was hard to believe his poor, dear mother was lying in the orthopedic ward of the hospital. It would have been more fitting if she had run off to the Dutch Antilles with a lottery-winning millionaire.
“We’re pleased to be able to help,” Lisa said. The pout was back, but a supersweet one this time.
“You can’t imagine how relieved I am.” He lowered his gaze and his voice. “You see, I’m a single parent.”
Oh. Hannah had to exercise every ounce of self-control not to break out in hysterical laughter at this twist of fate.
“Well, I’ll just run across to the office and grab a registration form,” she said, and left the two of them alone.
“What’s your little girl’s name?” she heard Lisa ask.
“Luzie,” he replied.
“What a pretty name! That’s what I’d call my daughter if I had one.”
“Really?”
Hannah put a hand to her mouth to suppress a laugh. That was just . . . crazy!
As she looked for the registration form for new children, she corrected herself. No, it wasn’t crazy. It was lovely.
Just as lovely as the fact that she was going to spend the evening with Jonathan—because the truth was, she was looking forward to it a lot. What luck that Lisa had turned down her invitation to accompany them. Hannah sent a short, silent thought out to Simon. Up to his cloud, or wherever he was sitting: Don’t take offense, my love. But I have an inkling that I might fall in love sometime during the coming year. It’s what you wanted for me, after all. And you know what I always say: watch your thoughts!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank . . .
Bettina Steinhage, my editor at Lübbe. You once told me that you had always wanted to work with me. After this, our first project together, I can only say one thing: I would like to work with you again—OFTEN, please! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! You are AMAZING!
Wibke Bode. Not only a wonderful friend, but also an excellent doctor, who has been ready with her advice on all my medical questions.
My cousin Heike Lorenz, for the brainstorming session on my sofa. I’m so glad to have you in my life!
My friend Sybille Schr?dter, for the discussion on the subject of happiness in life.
My friend and colleague Jana Voosen, for her valuable input and suggestions as beta reader.
Alexandra Heneka, my wonderful dramatic adviser—what would my stories be without your support?
Holger Vehren of the Hamburg Police press department for his constant readiness to offer useful information and advice.
Regine Weisbrod, a wonderful editor, who supported me in the development of the plot.
Dr. Petra Eggers, the best agent ever. There is nothing I can add to that.
Jutta Verst?ndig for her expert advice on the tarot, and for the private readings.
The Laufwerk Hamburg team (www.laufwerk-hamburg.de), who were my sports experts, explaining all I needed to know about running speeds and heart rates for the opening scene with Jonathan.
My cousin Caroline Dimpker, Nicole Dolif, and Adriano Liotta of Mamma Leone on Eppendorfer Weg in Hamburg, for polishing up my rudimentary Italian.
The whole of the brilliant Lübbe team: Klaus Kluge, Claudia Müller, Torsten Gl?ser, Stefanie Folle, Marco Schneiders, and Christian Stüwe. It’s lovely to know that you believe in me!
Production manager Anja Hauser for the fantastic design.
My daughter, Luzie. Whenever you laugh with me I know what life is all about. Mine, at least.
Matthias Willig. Thank you for everything. EVERYTHING! And in particular for drawing to my attention Erhard F. Freitag’s quote: “If it hits home, it’s usually true. And if it’s true, it hits home.”
I am particularly grateful to Sebastian Fitzek, who was kind enough to allow me to raise him to megastar status in this novel. Thank you, Sebastian! And it’s true.
I’d like to say one more thing:
The rejection letter from an editor used in this novel is a REAL document. But I won’t reveal the identity of the author who received it (only that he or she—who knows?—went on to become very successful), and not even that of the editor who sent it . . .
To nip any speculation in the bud, I was NOT the poor person whose mailbox it landed in.
Last but not least: Thanks to Mama and Papa.
Without you, I wouldn’t be here.