-In this place you don't have a choice, they bring you whatever they please, so if you have any allergies better tell them now.
-No, I don't.- she told the waiter, and took a sip of her drink afterwards.- Well, this should be fun.
-It is, indeed. I like it very much in here. However, I hate that if you like something you will never be able to order it. But it's part of the magic, I guess.
Ismene smiled at him. She would have never thought of him as an adventurous type, a man who owns a bookshop and bakes his own cookies. But again, he was a mistery, and misteries hide surprises, and she wanted to start discovering all of them.
-You had a story to tell me, I seem to remember.
-You do remember well.
-So, where is it?
Frode laughed at that. His laughter was deep, like his voice. He squinted his eyes a little, as if he had never listened to anything half as funny in his life.
-You'll have to wait until we get the food, I don't want to spoil the surprise.
-I hope it is a good one.
-Oh, it is, indeed.
Shortly after, the waiter arrived with a couple of plates. One was some kind of pasta salad with greens and fruits, the other was a risotto. Seeing that they couldn't agree on what should each of them have, they decided to split it.
-Start now.
-Ok, ok. As you want. You might remember I told you I am the fifth generation of bookkeepers. I grew up in the bookshop, actually I was almost born in here. So the story goes some years back. My family arises from Germany, as you can tell by my surname. The first Hoifmeister to come to this country arrived after fleeing Germany for religious reasons, although to be fair I should say that it was rather due to lack of religion. My family comes from a long tradition of keepers of knowledge, and this means easy access to a bast amount of information. He found it hard to believe on what they were telling him and decided to move overseas. The bookshop was his way to keep knowledge alive, there are books hidden everywhere, books he saved during his flight. Sometimes I still find them hidden in secret places, those and other books that all the Hoifmeister's have hidden around, it has become kind of a tradition already. My ancestor never returned to Germany, neither did his son. My grandfather, was the first of my family to set foot in Germany after his grandfather had left, but it was for a really short trip. It was actually my father who reconciled us with our native land, he went there when he was eighteen to study, and he meet my mother there. My mother was a Dane who was studying in Germany, and she was curious about that foreign-German boy who seemed to be from nowhere, but from everywhere at the same time. When my father finished his studies, they both decided to move back here and take over the bookshop. My mother was a natural for it, she was charming, and she always had the best suggestions for everyone, it was as if she could read their minds, people say I'm good, but she was extraordinary. While she took care of the bookshop, there were always kids around, and she organized activities to encourage them to read. Everyone loved her, and she loved everyone. As I told you, I was almost born in there, she was heavily pregnant and still roamed the aisles of the store. I spent my whole infancy in here, and I almost learnt to read before I learnt to write. I loved my mother dearly, she was beautiful, she was sweet, and she was smart. And she passed away when I was barely fifteeen. It broke my heart, I never had a close relationship with my father, we were family and that was it, but my mother,... It was something else. It was like losing your best friend. I went into a rebellious phase, that lasted for a couple of years, and left my father alone. I moved in with a friend, I would skip classes, I guess I kind of blamed books for killing my mother, although they had nothing to do with her death. I was confused, and I didn't really know what I was doing. I was lucky enough to have someone open my eyes, so after some time I returned home. My father had aged a century, and the bookstore was about to fill for bankruptcy. The death of my mother had drained all the energy out of him, and I had only made it worse. We agreed for me to go to study in Germany, it would be good for me, he said. It also allowed me to spend some time with my maternal family, get to know better the land of her childhood. I spent four years there, and I developed a taste for classics and ancient mythology. I traveled a lot, trying to see as much as possible, knowing that it was something that was once in a lifetime. I would take my backpack and get lost, I walked around in Ireland, I cycled in the Netherlands, I explored each corner of the European capitals, I climbed the mountains. And when the time was over I came back home and took care of the bookshop. My father was relieved of getting the weight off his shoulders, he was never the same man after his love died. He lives in Germany now, it reminds him of his youth, I guess.
Ismene was speechless after that. She would have never thought that he would have lived all that, and she knew it was actually a summary, that there were thousands of stories to be told, millions of experiences. She had so many questions that they all piled up and none would come up. Frode must have been used to that reaction, so he simply smiled. He did smile a lot, Ismene realized.
-So?- he took a spoonful of the risotto that had been abandoned for the lenght of his story.
-After all that, you just went back and took over the bookstore? Don't you long for adventure?- she wasn't sure it was the right question, but it was the one thing she could think of.
-Who says that bookstores are not adventurous?
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