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She smiled at him.
"What I was afraid you were going to do was come back from Europe, and walk in here and start that stupid Wiener schnitzel nonsense again. I like it better when you just say you love me."
"Oh, shit. I forgot."
"Forgot what?"
He went into his brief
case and came out with an aluminum foil-wrapped package.
"What's that?"
"Wiener schnitzel, the real thing. Except that this comes from Budapest, not Vienna. You get the best Hungarian gulyas in Vienna, but the best Wiener schnitzel comes from Budapest. Understand?"
She didn't reply. She simply took his hand and held it against her cheek. He saw that she was crying, but he knew it wasn't because she was unhappy.
AFTERWORD
One of the characters in this book was a Special Forces medic.
The Special Forces Association tries hard to keep up with former Green Berets. Sadly, this includes regularly publishing brief notices of their passing, giving their name, rank, where they served, as what, the highest medal (if any) for valor they were awarded, and the cause and date of their death. One such will appear for a Special Forces medic who died as I was finishing this book. It will read something like this:
WALTON, John. Sergeant. Vietnam. Medic. Silver Star. While piloting experimental aircraft. 27 June 2005.
In the case of Sergeant Walton, other obituaries published in newspapers around the world-often on the front page-were much longer, and made reference to the fact that he earned the Silver Star-the nation's third-highest award for valor-by saving the lives of fellow soldiers under fire.
And reported that the Wal-Mart executive, and son of the founder of Wal-Mart, died the eleventh-richest man in the world, with a fortune of $18.2 billion.
