A Story A Day. Story 347 of 365: Best (Part XVII).

Frode was still in his shop when Ismene went to pick him up. She had been looking into her wardrobe for the whole afternoon before she decided for an outfit, it had been hard to choose what to dress to meet Leo, but it had been harder to meet Frode. Sometimes, when she did things like that, she ended up mad at herself, she would tell herself that it didn't matter what she looked like, that her personality was the only thing that men should care about. Yet, she felt insecure about herself, and wanted to show that she was the whole package, rather than only a brain, or a nice body. Knowing that Frode would value her more for her brains, she felt even more insecure about not being smart enough. She passed in front of the shop almost three thousand times before she braved up and got in. Frode was at the cash register, and when he heard the door opening he replied automatically.

-I'll be helping you in a second, feel free to roam the shop. 

-Thanks, but it won't be necessary.- Ismene replied with a smile, he was absentminded, apparently. 

-Oh, it's you. Good evening, Ismene.- his voice was like molten chocolate.-I'll be done in five minutes, take a seat. 

There were several chairs, sofas, and armchairs scattered around the shop. Ismene took seat in a sofa, laid back, and closed her eyes. The shop smelled of books, new, old, all the kinds, there was a sweet undertone she couldn't identify, vanilla, freshly baked cookies, or maybe chocolate. Soft jazz music was playing in the background, it had the characteristic sound of a record player. She hadn't realized about all that when she had visited the shop the previous two times. It was a place where she could definitely live, a safe haven. With her eyes closed she could feel a different aroma, it was fresh, but also mysterious, a bit like the open ocean, she could almost hear the waves crashing against the boat. 

-Ismene?- that deep voice again, she got goosebumps all over. 

-Hmm?- she replied opening her eyes. 

-Were you sleeping?- he was looking at her with his hands on his hips. 

-No, I was just enjoying the surroundings. And trying to find out what is the smell I can feel under the booksmell. It's something sweet, but I don't know what.  

-I think I know. Stay in here, I'll show you.- he returned soon after with a plate of cookies.- Try one. 

The cookies smelled like heaven, and were the exact color of gold. She took one shyly, and bite it. She had to contain herself not to moan in pleasure. Those were the best cookies she had ever had. 

-Wow! This is incredible! Where do you get them? 

-They are homemade. It's an old Danish recipe from my mother. 

-Well, congratulate her on the cookies. 

-Actually, I baked them myself.- he seemed sad when he said that, but Ismene knew that if she wanted to find out more about him, she would need for him to open up at his own rhythm. Still with a shade of sadness in his stare, he changed the topic.- So, are you ready to go? 

-I am. Are you? 

-As soon as I switch off the lights, I'll be. Wait for me outside. 

It was past nine when they finally got out of the bookstore, and Ismene was starving. The cookie had opened up her appetite and her stomach had started growling. 

-Do you mind walking a bit?- Frode asked her. 

-Not at all.- she was thankful she had had the sense to put on comfortable shoes. 

-Have you been next to the river? It's just outside the old city walls, the artisans used to set up their workshops there, there are some small local shops and some nice restaurants there. 

-No, I haven't been. 

Frode took her through the old city streets, he was a far better city guide than Leo had been. He spoke calmly about the history of the city, as they wandered around, pointing her to buildings that had key roles at some point. His voice was soothing, and he explained so well that Ismene had the feeling that she was there when it happened. Before she even realized they were out of the city walls and next to the river. When Ismene saw it, she wanted to punch herself for not having been there before. Two-story houses lined up next to it, small boats were tied on the quays, music coming out of some of them. There was people walking everywhere, young people, mostly, there were also street performers scattered throughout. A wide stone bridge crossed it, flowers on planters hanging from it. Frode had taken her to the right place.