My wife and I went there for lunch later. The proprietor and a couple of her friends welcomed us. They were the only ones there.
"Oh," the proprietor said, "I'm so sorry. We're closed."
We told her about the newspaper article, and she admitted that we were not the first who'd come by that day thinking they opened extra early, rather than at 5:45 p.m.
I told her that at least I had learned the answer to my question why they open earlier on Monday—I'd misread the newspaper, which, in fairness, had given Monday's time as "5:45 to 8 p.m. Monday."
She apologized again and, for our trouble, she gave us an unusual scone. It was shaped like a cut, triangular piece of tart. Orange and lavender she said it was. Sounded interesting.
We went down the street to another restaurant for lunch and on the way home, we agreed that I'd make coffee when we got home and we'd drink it with the orange and lavender scone.
I put the water on to heat and set the scone and two dessert forks on the dining table, before going to the bedroom for something.
I was in the bathroom when my wife called from somewhere in the house, "Where did you set the scone?"
"It's on the table in the dining room," I yelled.
"No," she said, "I'm afraid not."
I don't suppose that Siegfried felt sad about depriving us of a taste of the scone. But he may have felt a bit of an upset stomach?
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[Follow-up]
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