25
1945
High summer had come to Bergslagen. The bakery was almost unbearably hot, even though it was still morning. Nils removed a tray from the large oven, puffing and blowing as the heat surged toward him, but then he inhaled the smell of the freshly baked bread. He had spent the last month experimenting with Tuula’s sourdough. The Finnish rye bread was wildly popular, and he could see great potential with the sourdough. He had been thinking about what his father had said about frozen food in the future, and had worked out that a small, flat loaf would freeze well. They could freeze the bread immediately after baking and deliver it as a frozen product; when it defrosted, it should taste almost as good as fresh bread.
He gazed at the perfectly golden-brown loaves on the tray. He had used both rye and wheat flour along with Tuula’s sourdough, making it a mixture of Tuula’s bread and the kind that Nils often baked at home.
The first rays of the sun found their way through the windows. He slid in a tray of bread and rolls; he was happy to help out the bakers, and they would have fresh rolls for breakfast when they arrived.
When the loaves had cooled a little, he tore off a chunk and tasted it. Perfect. The rye had a strong, rich flavor, but there was also a smooth sweetness thanks to a bit of syrup he had added. He let it cool for a bit, then wrapped two of the loaves in a cloth with some butter, and biked over to his father’s office.
His father was already hard at work when Nils knocked on the door.
“Come in!” His face lit up when he saw Nils in the doorway. “Is that freshly baked bread I smell?”
“It is. I’ve been experimenting with fru Anttila’s sourdough.”
“I see.” His father’s expression darkened. Nils knew he’d heard about him and Tuula, but he hadn’t said a word. Yet.
He unpacked the bread, cut a slice, spread it with butter, and passed it to his father.
He heard footsteps behind him.
“I’ve looked over the designs, Dad.” Stig walked in with his nose in a file and didn’t look up. “If we make use of the current storage area, we’d have space for another freezer room, which means we can expand our delivery area to include northern Uppland and southern Dalarna. I’ve been in touch with the local consumer associations and ...” Only then did he glance up and notice Nils. “Oh, hi. I didn’t know you were here.” He saw the bread on the desk. “Great—freshly baked bread!”
“Yes—I’ve been trying out a few new recipes.”
As Stig helped himself, Nils suddenly realized what his brother had been talking about.
“Are you planning to launch in Dalarna and northern Uppland?” Nils looked from his father to his brother and back again. He and his father had always planned this kind of thing together—why hadn’t they involved him this time?
“We are. It was Stig’s idea; it doesn’t involve much more travel for our delivery drivers, and there’s room in the trucks. We weren’t sure about freezer space, but as you just heard, Stig has been working on that.”
Nils swallowed hard. So his brother was planning major changes to key parts of the business, while Nils was still slogging away in the bakery. Had he been demoted?
Stig tried the bread. “Wow—this is delicious!”
“Yes.” Nils took a deep breath. “I thought it would freeze well, and we could deliver it as a frozen product. Because the loaves are so thin, they’ll freeze quickly, and thaw in no time. If we freeze them immediately after baking, the quality will be comparable with fresh bread.”
Father tasted. “ Mmm ... Not bad. Not bad at all. I like your thinking.”
“The only thing I’m not sure about is how we solve the issue of transportation from the bakery to the deep freeze room, if it has to be as fresh as possible,” Stig said.
Nils suppressed a sigh. “It only takes a minute in the van to go from the bakery to the freezer, so it can be frozen while it’s still steaming from the oven.” It bothered him that Stig had opinions—was he going to have to run everything past his brother now? “I’ve got a good name for this bread too,” he continued. “I thought we could call it Tuula’s Tasty Bread.”
Father coughed, almost choked. “You want me to name our bread after a fucking Finn?”
Nils was shocked. He had never heard his father talk about anyone that way. It seemed to be quite an overreaction. Maybe it was because of the whole Birgit Berglund business. His father hadn’t mentioned her name again, but he’d made it clear that Nils was letting him down by refusing to court her.
Father put down the bread. “You know people have seen you two together in the village?”
Nils didn’t respond.
Stig discreetly backed out of the room.
“The war is over now, and it’s time for us to get moving on things,” his father said. “Rationing will come to an end, and we want to be ready.” He got to his feet. “Do you understand, Nils? We can take this company far beyond Bergslagen. We can sell our bread and cakes across the country. We’ve got the operations, we’ve got the plans, all we need is permission from the local council. Which means I need Berglund.” He walked over to the window, gazed out at the street and the river. Nils looked out too. Storm clouds had gathered. The air in the room was oppressive, suffocating. The rushing waters of the river were dark. His father turned to him. “And what is Berglund going to say when he discovers that you’re gallivanting around town with a Finnish widow? Dining at the Stadshotell? Strolling through the streets and sitting in the café?”
Nils took a deep breath, summoning his courage. “To be honest, I don’t understand why that’s any of Berglund’s business.”
His father gave a start. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that what I choose to do is up to me. How I spend my evenings and weekends, and with whom.”
Father took three rapid steps toward Nils. “I’ve worked tirelessly for years to grow this company. For your sake. For Stig’s sake. I do it for this family. I thought we were in agreement that we would do whatever it took to make it a success. And that doesn’t mean running around after other women. What’s wrong with you? Birgit is a much better bet than that Finn with two kids!” Father slammed his fist down on the desk.
Nils gazed at him steadily. “I have no intention of marrying Birgit.”
“But you’d be happy to marry a Finn? Are you going to raise her Finnish brats?” Father snorted, shook his head. “I hoped you’d come to your senses so that I wouldn’t have to argue about it.” His expression was almost pleading. “We can’t afford to lose any more time. The application is all ready to go; all we need is the council’s formal approval.”
“I don’t understand. You and Folke Berglund were celebrating, the council was on board with our plans—what does any of this have to do with me and Birgit?”
Father sighed wearily. “She likes you, and Folke wants to give his little girl whatever she wants. He assumed you would start courting her, but nothing has happened. The council approved our application to carry out alterations, but this is about the change of use so that we can start the deep-freezing side of the operation.” He shook his head again. “If we don’t get permission, it will be your fault.”
“My fault?”
“Yes, because you’re refusing to do what you can to help. Instead you’re planning to marry her .”
“I have no idea if I’m going to marry Tuula, I have no idea who I’m going to marry, but what I do know is that the choice will be mine. And Tuula’s children are wonderful—I would have no problem with raising them.” Nils walked out of his father’s office and slammed the door behind him.
When the other bakers were leaving for the day, Tuula lingered. Nils saw her through the window, sweeping up flour and glancing toward his office. He’d hidden in there all day, buried himself in work.
Eventually he emerged and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. The packers and drivers were still in the packing room, so he had to be discreet. They didn’t mind being seen together around town, but they both felt it was best to keep a low profile at work. They hardly even spoke to each other when anyone else was nearby.
“First time I’ve seen you today,” Tuula said with a smile.
“I had a lot of work to catch up on.” His smile was strained. “By the way, I’ve got a surprise for you. It’s just an idea, but I’d like to see what comes of it.”
He went over to the second batch of dough, which had been proofing since the day before. “This is made with your sourdough.” After kneading it a bit, he shaped the flat loaves and slid the tray into the oven. “I’m trying to persuade my father to sell it.”
She nodded encouragingly. “He usually listens to you.”
Her face was pink with the warmth of the bakery, and there were tiny beads of sweat along her hairline. He wanted to brush them away. He wanted to take her down to the sea for a swim. Unless she had to hurry home to the children, of course.
“We’re ... We’re not exactly getting along at the moment.” Nils peered in through the glass door of the oven.
Tuula looked at him searchingly. “Why? Has something happened?” She placed a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s nothing, just a disagreement.”
“You’re not quarreling about me, are you?”
How could she know that? But she wasn’t dumb. She knew that people in the village were talking. He still didn’t want to worry her.
“No, no, it’s just a couple of things to do with the business. Don’t worry about it. At least I got him to try the bread, and he liked it. It would be great if we could add it to our offering.”
The loaves were ready in no time, and he removed the tray. “I want to call it Tuula’s Tasty Bread.”
She looked at him, and in a second she was in his arms, kissing him.
As usual he felt as though he were floating. He was so happy with her, so free. Whatever happened with the business, it was worth it. This was what love was supposed to feel like—and now that he had experienced it, he knew he couldn’t live without it.