Chapter Three
Wertz concluded that maybe dragging up those traumatic months was too raw for Frenchie; that she needed to catch her breath first, to have time to get everything in order. With the promise of a warm day Mike hoped taking Frenchie out for some air might help. He called his driver and shortly after the three took off into the German countryside complete with a hamper knocked together by Herr misery guts, the manager.
“I think he’s still looking for those fleas, Frenchie.”
“He is a flea.”
“Feel like talking?”
She grinned. “I always feel like talking, but maybe not about Klein or René. Maybe not about the war.”
“Okay Frenchie. That’s fine. We’ll have a day off.”
The driver took them to the Breltlingsee near Brandenburg where they readily devoured the picnic. Their chauffeu
