26
Henrik was taking one of his evening strolls around V?stervik. It had become something of a habit after dinner with the production team. The air was fresh, and the snow that had fallen earlier had melted away. People complained about the winters in southern Sweden, but he loved them. There was a melancholy beauty to the barren landscape, and the fact that no one expected snow in the south meant that they weren’t disappointed when “the real winter” didn’t make an appearance. Not being disappointed could be nice sometimes. As he walked through the streets, glistening with rain, he saw a couple out walking their dog, then a group of friends leaving a restaurant. There were people around, but no rushing crowds or traffic.
He found himself outside Nymans and stopped; the lights were on. Of course—Nora was putting up the Christmas decorations tonight. Given what she’d said earlier, he was expecting to see Santa’s elves working away inside. Instead he saw Nora sitting alone at a table with a small mug in her hand. She looked lost in thought, and then she rubbed her cheek with one hand as if she was ... crying? There were several boxes on the floor next to the coffee machines. Advent candle bridges had been placed in the windows, but they weren’t lit. She seemed to have a lot left to do. Judging by the number of boxes and her Christmas decorating aspirations, she was probably in for a long night.
He hadn’t managed to shake off the feeling after the previous day’s kiss. He hadn’t planned it. Although he had intended to flirt with her for the sake of the show, it had simply happened. She was standing so close to him, he loved the smell of her, and ... It had shut her up as well, of course. The sudden and immediate attraction he had felt baffled him. Then there was the fact that the kiss had been fantastic—which didn’t make anything any clearer.
His plan had been to continue to flirt lightly with her during filming today, but her objections to the business with the dough had made it impossible. In a way he understood; one minute they were provoking her into outbursts of rage, and then he kissed her, only to ridicule her skill as a baker the very next day.
Nora stood up, put down her mug, and went over to the boxes. Henrik moved closer to the door, and heard the muted sound of holiday music.
The decorations had to get done if they were going to be able to film tomorrow. He had to help her.
He tapped gently on the glass and she looked up, a strand of tinsel in her hand. She peered into the darkness, then raised her eyebrows, dropped the tinsel, and came over to unlock the door.
“Hi—what are you doing here?”
“Hi—would you like some help?”
At first she looked wary and defensive, as she so often did, but then she relaxed and smiled. She had a lovely smile, the kind that lit up her whole face, and he felt a pleasant warmth spread through his body.
“Okay, why not?” she replied, not moving.
“Er ... Can I come in?”
“Sorry.” She shook her head and there it was again, that lovely smile. She held open the door, and as he came in his hand brushed against hers. She quickly pulled away, but that small touch had sent a tingle up his arm and through his body like an electric shock. He closed the door and followed her inside.
“Would you like some of this year’s special mulled wine?” She nodded toward a bottle on one of the wooden tables, next to a plate of gingerbread cookies and two cheeses. “I’ve got red wine, too, and ordinary mulled wine, but that’s up in the apartment. My friends were supposed to be here, but something came up for a couple of them, and the others couldn’t make it on such short notice.”
Henrik felt a pang of guilt, which he didn’t like. She had volunteered to be on his show after all; it wasn’t his fault that they had to move the decorating schedule up.
She held up the bottle. “Flavored with pine needles and birch sap, apparently.”
“Sounds somewhat promising. I haven’t been impressed by some of their other experiments.”
“Tropical fruits?”
“Exactly—not very Christmassy. More like a trendy summer soda.”
She nodded. “I couldn’t agree more.” Then she looked at him in shock, probably because she was thinking the same he was—that this was the first time they’d agreed on something. She disappeared into the bakery with the bottle.
He plugged in the extension cords that were laying on the table, then connected the candle bridges, illuminating the windows with that soft, warm glow that only Christmas could bring. The effect couldn’t have been more different than the harsh light of the gigantic Advent star at his father’s house.
“Aren’t they lovely?” Nora said when she came back. “We’ve had them since our very first Christmas here, when my grandmother took over the patisserie. They were made by a factory in town that’s long gone. I’ve had them repaired several times, but I think they’re wonderful.”
He inspected the brass bridges, with their seven candles lined up on curved arms, adorned with tiny wreaths, each one studded with minute gold-colored pine cones. The central section was made up of three sturdy brass rings. “They’re beautiful.”
She handed him a steaming mug. He inhaled the aromas of pine and birch, and it made him feel as if he were sitting in a wood-fired sauna in Norrbotten. His mother’s family lived near there, and he suddenly longed to visit his relatives up there; it had been a while. He took a sip, savoring the classic mulled wine spices as well as the sharpness of the pine needles and the acidity of the birch sap.
Nora emptied a box onto the table. Advent stars, a porcelain nativity scene, a wooden church, countless elves and Santas, tinsel, lanterns, and candlesticks tumbled out. They set to work, and he followed her instructions without question. It felt good to bury the hatchet temporarily, because he was pretty sure they would have differing views on a number of issues over the next few days.
Nora handed him a pile of red embroidered cloths, which he laid out on the tables. Then came the slightly shabby wooden candlesticks. Henrik set them out and stuck a candle in each one. Not exactly elegant, but certainly very charming. Nora climbed up onto a stool to hang up one of the Advent stars in the side window, then swore. “Damn. It looks like the nails were removed during the renovations.” She looked at Henrik. “I’ll go and get some more.” She headed into the bakery and returned with a toolbox. They hammered in nails, hung the stars, and plugged them in. Finally she picked up a big cardboard star and carefully unfolded it. “This goes in the front window.” She climbed onto the stool, but couldn’t quite reach. She stretched too far, lost her balance for a second. He caught her, but she pulled away and straightened up.
“Sorry,” she said. The wariness was back.
The warmth and feeling of her body lingered, and Henrik took a deep breath.
Nora looked at him and quickly hung the star. Then she climbed down and fetched her empty mug. “I need some more wine—how about you?” Her cheeks were flushed—from the wine, the heat—and maybe what had just happened? Her breathing was rapid; he could see her chest heaving.
“Please.” He followed her into the kitchen, and they warmed up the rest of the bottle. As the contents of the pan began to steam, she turned to him.
“Aren’t you going to apologize for what happened the other day?”
“You mean yesterday? When you stormed out?”
“No, I mean at the book event.” She cleared her throat. “When you kissed me.”
He gazed at her for a long time. “Why should I apologize? It was a fantastic kiss.” A frank comment, but why lie? He thought about how soft her lips had been and the heat radiating from them. He was suddenly aware that he was standing very close to her. That he could easily kiss her again. Then there was a hissing noise, and Nora gave a start. The wine was boiling furiously, splashing over onto the hot plate. Henrik removed the pan, while Nora grabbed some paper towels and wiped down the stove. They filled the thermos and returned to the café in silence, then poured themselves some wine and sat down.
“I know the production team had something to do with that kiss,” Nora said slowly, blowing on her drink as steam curled into the air. “I mean, the idea that you should flirt with me and then kiss me, but ...”
“Listen,” Henrik broke in. “Don’t you think this could benefit both of us? A little flirtation, a kiss or two? It would make the show more popular. And like I said, it was a fantastic kiss, wasn’t it?”
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing,” she conceded, but he knew she felt the same way he did. He had seen her reaction, and surely a kiss couldn’t feel fantastic for just one person, could it? “It’s just that you know so much about me,” Nora went on. “My whole situation, the fact that I’ve made such a mess of things here, and that kiss was so ... intimate somehow.”
He took a cookie and topped it with cheese. He had to take her seriously, though he didn’t quite understand which part of the intimacy she didn’t like.
“I’m sorry, Nora—I didn’t think of it that way. I apologize if you think I crossed a line.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine. I don’t feel like you took advantage of me or anything. And I’m prepared to admit that it was a wonderful kiss.” There was a faint glint in her eyes, and they looked at each other in silence for a while. He lost himself in those blue eyes. He inhaled sharply, as if he’d forgotten to breathe.
“I was confused more than anything,” Nora went on, “but now I get it. The whole situation is kind of confusing. I don’t know what’s genuine and what isn’t. But now I realize you did it for the cameras, and that’s okay.”
Henrik nodded slowly. For some reason he felt the need to change the subject. “By the way, the production company has given me the green light for the money.” He hadn’t mentioned it before because he’d been worried that the transfer wouldn’t go through, but he’d checked and the payment had been made today. “You’ve received enough to cover your staffing costs for the rest of filming and through the end of December.”
She looked shocked. “That’s too much.”
“It certainly is not. The production company will also cover any other expenses you have during filming—ingredients, electricity, whatever you need.”
She frowned. “I don’t know if that feels right.”
“We’re doing it to help you, and to make sure we can finish filming. Most of the money is already in your business account.”
“But . . .”
“Consider it payment for your participation.”
“Do you do that for everyone on the show?”
“No ...” He hesitated. “We haven’t had anyone in this kind of financial trouble before.” Then he smiled. “This season is important. Very important for me.”
“I can’t accept all that money. It’s wrong.”
“Look, if your business goes bust, the production company stands to lose a great deal more money than what we’re investing in you.” He realized he needed to be honest, as she had been with him. “The problem is that TV24 isn’t satisfied with the ratings. If we have to cancel this project, that will be the end of Let’s Get Baking .” He paused. “So in order to boost the ratings, they’ve proposed various angles, and the idea that there might be some kind of romance between us is their latest suggestion.”
She thought for a moment, sipped her wine. “I’m sorry to hear about the ratings.” She took a deep breath. “I’m really grateful for everything you and the team are doing. Even if it’s confusing, I’m on board. Sounds like a little flirting could be beneficial for both of us.”
“Cool.” Henrik held out his mug. “ Sk?l to that.” Now he had an excuse to kiss her again.
“ Sk?l. By the way, how are the plans for your own bakery going?”
“Moving forward. The decision will be made at the board meeting on Monday.”
“Seriously?” She smiled. “That’s exciting! So after that you can get started?”
He didn’t feel particularly excited. “Yes, but only if everyone votes in favor.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Then it’s dead in the water.”
“But why can’t you open the place on your own?”
He looked at her in surprise.
“Do you really need the board’s approval?”
“I ... It’s just that everything I do is with my family. I’d really like for the Eklunds to be on board with it. I already have one failed project behind me, something I started up on my own, and ... I think it would be better if ...”
“If you had a big company behind you?” Nora frowned. “Can’t you see how ironic it is that you travel around fixing up bakeries all over the country, and yet you’re too ...” She broke off.
“Too much of a coward to open my own?”
“You’re very good at telling everybody else what they’re doing wrong.”
He nodded slowly. “I guess that is kind of ironic.”
Although her opinions often irritated him, he appreciated her honesty. She was direct without being nasty or supercilious—something he wasn’t used to. This kind of honesty was new to him, and it meant a lot.
He looked at her. He couldn’t imagine what it was like not to have any family. He and his siblings had a complicated relationship, but at least they were there. And his mother meant the world to him. Life really wasn’t fair, and he hoped he would be able to provide some support to Nora, who was all alone.
They got back to decorating, setting out Santa on his sleigh with his reindeer, and lots of elves in the front window. Then they hung thick wreaths on red silk ribbons on either side of the large Advent star. When they were done, the place looked lovely—festive and cozy. It would go over very well on TV.
As they folded up the empty boxes, Nora said, “All I have to do now is buy a tree, but no one is selling them yet.”
“I’m sure I can fix that. What kind do you like? Let me guess—Norway spruce?”
“Actually I love a Nordmann fir, but I usually go for a Norway spruce. It’s a classic, and it smells wonderful.”
“So I was right?”
She gave a wry smile. “I’d really like a Nordmann, but let’s go with the spruce.”
“What’s stopping you from choosing a Nordmann fir?”
She remained silent for a few seconds, then shrugged. “Because it’s always been that way. We’ve always had a spruce, that’s just how it is.”
He managed to stop himself from saying that a lot of things had always been that way—this wasn’t the time for a snide comment.
“You seem to have plenty of traditions too,” she added with a smile. “The Eklund family’s fairy-tale Christmases.”
The actual Christmas holiday was nothing like the celebration they staged for the cameras in November every year, but he couldn’t tell her that.
“Baking gingerbread cookies, the marzipan competition, preparing the ham and all those fun activities like making wreaths and huge flower arrangements,” Nora went on without a hint of sarcasm.
It was Henrik’s turn to shrug. “Like I said the other day, things in our family are a little ... tense. It’s not like on TV.”
“No? I’ve always envied your wonderful Christmases, a fantastic blended family where everyone loves everyone else.”
He snorted. “In reality, we’re a blended family where everyone hates everyone else and is jealous of everyone else and ...” He broke off. What had he just said? Somehow he couldn’t stop himself. “Christmas with my father is vile. I’ve spent the holiday with my mom and her partner for the last couple of years. We don’t go over the top with traditions; I have so many terrible memories associated with Christmas that I no longer find it particularly enjoyable.”
She gazed at him. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“That’s the way it is when Hasse Eklund is your father.”
“So ... how is it?” she asked gently.
Henrik shook his head. “When I was nine years old, Christmas Eve was completely ruined because I spilled some water during lunch. It’s always been like that. Everything I did was wrong. I knocked the glass over, and the water went everywhere. It was a pure accident, but my father just kept saying over and over again how clumsy I was. So fucking clumsy.”
“And how did you react?”
“I got upset, which he hated. You’re too sensitive, Henrik. ” He imitated his father’s deep voice—how often had he heard those words? “That’s why I like TV. I can pretend to be someone else. I follow the script, and it all goes according to plan.” He cleared his throat; he hadn’t intended to reveal so much, or to express such strong feelings. And yet ... the way they were talking now was genuine. And he loved it.
She nodded. “That makes sense.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’ll speak to the production team, see if we can get ahold of a tree. Maybe we could trim it in one of the episodes,” he added in an attempt to change the subject and shake off the tenderness and intimacy that had infused their conversation. It was all too much.
“Yes, that’s fine, but ...” She looked a little uncertain.
“Let me guess—there’s a tradition associated with the tree?” He couldn’t help laughing.
She sighed. “It’s just that I’ve always chosen the tree myself. In the middle of the day so you can check it out properly, with a thermos of mulled wine.” She glanced at the green thermos on the table. “That thermos. My friend Bea and her family come along, too, and choose their tree at the same time.”
“We’ll make sure you can do that—it’ll work beautifully for the show.”
Nora nodded. “Thank you. And thank you for all your help.”
Those blue eyes made him think that the honesty and intimacy between them might easily lead to something more.