Whatever. She isn’t listening to Melanie. Or her mom. Or Dee. Or Céline. Or Ana Lucia. She is listening to herself. And she knows that everything is okay.
“You know what we should do?” Wren says, that manic mischievous smile of hers spreading across her face. “We should get him flowers.”
For a second Allyson thinks this is some sort of duel, to win against the red-haired woman from last night. But then she understands what Wren means. They should get him flowers. At the flower market. Where Wolfgang works.
• • •
They ride on Wren’s bicycle, Allyson sidesaddle on the rack behind. (She thinks this might be her favorite thing about Amsterdam. She wants to import the tandem sidesaddle riding back home.) It is early evening when they arrive at the flower market, but a Saturday night, and bustling. Wolfgang is there, wrapping up a big bouquet of lilies.
When he looks up and sees them, he doesn’t seem the slightest bit surprised, even though Allyson is supposed to be in Croatia. He just winks. Allyson waits for the crowd to disperse and when there’s a break, she hugs him. The smell of him, tobacco and flowers, feels so good and familiar that it doesn’t make sense that she only met Wolfgang three days ago (except that it does).
“She found him!” Wren announces. “She found her Orlando.”
“I was under the impression she found what she was looking for already last night,” he says in that rumbly heavily accented voice.
Wolfgang looks at Allyson, a silent understanding passing between them. He is right. Last night, even when she’d thought Willem was a ghost she’d been chasing, she still felt like she’d found what she’d been looking for. Something harder to lose. Because it was connected to her. Because it was her.
“It turns out, I found us both,” Allyson tells Wolfgang.
“Double good news then,” he says.
“Double happiness,” Allyson says.
“That too,” Wolfgang says.
“We are going to see him perform Orlando again. Can you come?” Wren asks.
Wolfgang says that one night of Shakespeare is enough for him. And he has to shut down the stall tonight. But he’ll be free after ten.
“Then meet us after,” Allyson says. “A bunch of us are going for dinner. You should be there.”
She thinks of what Broodje said, the dinner like a banquet for the investor’s circle. Wolfgang should be there. So should Dee. And Professor Glenny. And Babs. And Kali and Jenn, her roommates last year. Maybe she’ll hold another investor’s dinner when she goes home.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Wolfgang says. “Now, would you like some flowers?”
• • •
At the amphitheater at Vondelpark, Allyson spots Broodje. He has saved several seats, up front this time. He is with a group of people, a guy even taller than Willem, a short-haired girl, another guy. He has brought a basket of food and several bottles of beer.
He kisses Allyson and Wren three times, cheek-cheek-cheek. And then he turns to the group. “Everyone. This is her. Lulu. Only she’s really Allyson. And this is her friend Wren.”
They all sort of stare at each other. The girl speaks first, sticking out her hand. “I’m Lien.”
“Allyson.”
“Wren.”
Lien stares at her. “You really do look like Louise Brooks.”