Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
M axi couldn’t believe her eyes as she looked around the gallery space. They’d loaded all of Olga’s items into her car and raced over to the gallery. In less than two hours, Olga had transformed it into a Scandinavian Christmas wonderland, brimming with handcrafted items that told stories of a culture deeply rooted in tradition and festivity. There were intricately knitted julekuler ornaments, their patterns reflecting age-old Nordic designs, soon to hang on a faux Christmas tree at the center of the room. Hand-carved dala horses and small wooden figurines of tomte, the little Swedish gnome, were laid out on a table, ready for placement on shelves.
Along the walls, Olga had spread out yards of beautifully embroidered linen and colorful woven jul runners. A delicate mobile featuring the St. Lucia procession, crafted from thin sheets of birch, was yet to be suspended from the ceiling, promising to add an ethereal quality to the space. Candleholders designed in the unique kurbits style often seen in Swedish folk art were being positioned on the counter next to an arrangement of traditional woven heart baskets.
As they moved around, placing each item with care and intention, Maxi finally broke the silence. “Olga, I can’t even begin to express my gratitude. This is beyond amazing. I hope it’s not too much for you, though.”
Olga waved away Maxi’s concerns with an energetic hand. “Oh, don’t you worry about me, young lady. I’m a lot spryer than people give me credit for—especially my children.” A wistful expression crossed her face. “Hopefully, this will prove to them, once and for all, that their old mother can manage just fine on her own. They don’t have to fuss so much.”
“If this doesn’t convince them, I don’t know what will,” Maxi replied, genuinely impressed. “Pulling off a one-woman art show like this is no small feat.”
Olga’s eyes twinkled as she looked at Maxi. “Well, they always say experience comes with age, and I’ve had plenty of both.”
Maxi took a step back, looking at the gallery from a variety of angles. It looked fantastic. Chandler would be impressed.
“You know, we have Bunny to thank for this incredible collaboration,” Maxi said, smiling at the thought of how Bunny had brought them together.
Olga adjusted one of the displays. “Ah, yes, Bunny. She’s such a nice lady. Quick thinker too.”
Maxi nodded. “And makes great carrot muffins.”
“Indeed.” Olga smiled.
“The moment I saw your Scandinavian pieces, I knew they’d be perfect for the gallery. They capture the essence of the holidays while offering something unique and deeply cultural.”
“Ah, you flatter me,” Olga said, beaming. “I was so thrilled when Bunny suggested the idea. It’s a wonderful opportunity to showcase a part of my heritage that’s so dear to me.”
Maxi couldn’t help but ask, “You’ve created so many pieces, Olga. Where does all this energy and ambition come from?”
Olga chuckled. “Well, you know, dear, age hasn’t sapped my enthusiasm for life. Crafting these pieces is a hobby that brings me immense joy. And let’s just say I still have a wellspring of energy and a backlog of ideas.”
“It’s evident in every piece,” Maxi agreed. “But what did you plan to do with all of these beautiful items before the gallery idea came up?”
Olga laughed heartily. “Oh, you won’t believe it, but I was running out of people to gift them to! My home started looking like a Scandinavian holiday market. It’s a good thing you found a purpose for them; otherwise, my children would have had another reason to fuss over me—‘Mom’s hoarding Christmas decorations again!’”
Maxi laughed along with Olga, but as her eyes scanned the room, her gaze caught on the bare walls. The thought escaped her lips before she could filter it. “The walls, though...they’re so empty.”
Olga chuckled. “Ah, you’re right. But don’t you worry about that either. I can paint some rosemaling artwork to fill those spaces. It’s a traditional Norwegian decorative painting, you see. Perfect for our theme here!”
“Rosemaling?” Maxi’s eyes lit up as she pictured canvases filled with the colorful folk art on the walls. “That sounds fantastic, but again, don’t push yourself too hard.”
“Pushing ourselves is how we grow, dear,” Olga said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Besides, how else will I convince my overprotective children that their mom can still function on her own and still has a lot of life in her?”
Maxi laughed, grateful for Olga’s wisdom and resilience. “Well, if this gallery showing doesn’t prove it, I don’t know what will.”