Glenda smiled tightly, but her gaze remained hawk-like. Distrust oozed from her entire nature.

– Well, all the best, miss. Take care of yourself. – Patting the taxi cab, Iver sent Glenda on her way. Like a husband or father, or just a doorman, putting heavy bags in the trunk, he agreed with the taxi driver about the safety of the passenger right up to the hotel.

She saw him off in expressive silence, smiling as much as she could. This happens when you suspect someone, but don’t want to show it.

“Very strange guy. And what do I like about it? It’s like being so familiar, but at the same time dangerous.”

The unpleasant Danish language with a rough pronunciation now seemed very nice against the backdrop of all this splendor: European houses and streets, cyclists everywhere, men and women with naturally white hair and blue eyes like angels. The taxi driver was talking to the dispatcher, the radio was squealing incessantly, and Glenda was humming a new mantra to herself: “I’m starting my life again, Copenhagen is my love. I’m starting my life again, Copenhagen is my love…”

The Petri Hotel on Crystalgade turned out to be not far from the street where she was going to go today to look at a house, beautiful, expensive, and in status just right for her budget.

His pomp was expressed in conservatism and was a little reminiscent of old England. The interior is designed in an attractive Bavarian style, with textures complemented by shades of green from malachite to forest green, so reminiscent of her home in Sussex. The mother also loved to upholster everything in green; she even preferred to see her daughter in such colors. The beautiful emerald prom dress was her last gift before her death.

From such memories Glenda shivered in her chair, waiting for the registration.

Fifteen minutes later, the prompt doorman had already carried her things into a spacious room with a view of the Town Hall, as well as parquet floors, a huge bed in the middle of the bedroom and a dark azure leather sofa

She booked three days for a thousand euros, hoping to buy ready-made housing during this period, complete all the documents and move.

Glenda had already had time to rest from the overnight flight and, full of energy in western jeans and a Ralph Lauren T-shirt, headed to watch the first version.

Summer in Denmark is as hot as in England. The lunch haze wiped out half of the capital's population. They hid in their air-conditioned apartments, and the most persistent wore hats.

Unfortunately, Glenda did not buy herself a hat or cap, although there was something to match her polo style. Relying on her newly curled curls, she walked boldly along the sunny side of the street.

Half an hour ago, tormented by unbearable doubts, she nevertheless called that number from the hands of a terrible and wonderful stranger. Much to her disappointment, he immediately answered the phone, and to make matters worse, he was right there. Mr. Holstein had just received the customers, and was ready to wait a little for her too. “You are incredibly lucky, Miss Miller, that the house has not yet been sold. This is a wonderful place in the very center of Copenhagen, next to the artificial lake St. Jorgen Se, shops, restaurants, cinema, clubs, and it’s like you’re taking it for nothing.”

The two-story wooden apartment building with its peeling blue paint looked clean and well-kept, just a little worn from time to time. Glenda liked the facade, although old, but cozy, it reminded her so much of home that thoughts of buying it were obsessively spinning in her head.