16
Zum Wohl
The Scotch on the table looked expensive. I checked out the label. A quality single malt, something told me.
“Ooh, yummy,” I said.
“You like this?” Magda asked.
“Like it? I love it.”
“Is she allowed?” Magda asked Philippe.
He nodded in reply. “One or two won’t kill her.”
Magda grabbed a couple of tumblers from a cupboard and set them down. Philippe opened the bottle and took a sniff.
“Wow,” he said, pouring out a pair of doubles. “We need another glass, Magda.”
“Oh no, I brought over a nice red. I need to finish it.”
She took a metal stopper out of a wine bottle and poured herself a large glass. Philippe slid a tumbler over to me. I held my nose over the rim. Good s**t. Seriously good s**t.
Magda held up her glass. “Zum Wohl,” she said. German for Cheers.
“Zum Wohl
