December 3
“But what do you think about incentives?” the new maid, receptionist, and all-around assistant, Sunniva Pedersen, was asking Alfred Haug as
Ingrid entered the kitchen.
Alfred didn’t reply. He raised a hand in greeting to Ingrid and nodded good morning before he continued chewing on his slice
of bread with sheep sausage, looking at Sunniva from beneath heavy eyelids.
“You know, what’s most important when it comes to internal and external incentives, for example? A lot of research has been
done on it but not that much in the hotel industry,” Sunniva said eagerly, pushing her blond curls behind one ear with her
left hand while gesticulating with the butter knife in her right as though it were a state-of-the-art presentation tool. “I’m
writing about all of the different types of incentives for my bachelor’s thesis on employee-involved innovation. External
incentives can be financial rewards, for example.”
Yet another blank look from Alfred.
She went on, “Like salary. Or bonuses. Internal incentives can be the experience of satisfaction or pleasure from the activity
you’re doing.”
Alfred didn’t have a response to this, either. Perhaps he didn’t get any particular satisfaction or pleasure from his work,
Ingrid thought as she leaned against the kitchen counter after pouring herself a cup of coffee. Or maybe he did. He enjoyed
chopping wood, she knew that. And drinking a beer afterward. Maybe Sunniva could include those activities in her thesis as
examples of internal and external incentives.
Sunniva Pedersen—or Sunny, as her friends called her—was a rising star in the field of work-life research and management philosophy.
She already had a considerable following on social media and was determined to grow it further. While she was writing her
thesis and waiting for her career to take off, she was also employed at Glitter Peak Lodge in a fairly flexible role. Sunny
cleaned rooms, made bookings, and did pretty much whatever was needed. She thought of it as research. The hotel had been going
through a bit of a slump but had recently been looking for more staff, with plans to make a new push after several years of
reduced operations. At her interview, Sunny had said that working at Glitter Peak would be an ideal way for her to combine
fieldwork and income, but as she sat here at the breakfast table with the taciturn caretaker, Ingrid realized that Sunny might
not be too sure about that anymore.
“Hey, Maja.” Sunny now tried to address the chef, who was relaxing with a large mug of coffee and cream. “How do you think
we can expand our innovative toolbox?”
“Our innovative toolbox?” Maja asked, setting her coffee cup down on the table. “Isn’t the toolbox we have enough? Has it gotten too small, Alfred?”
The caretaker snorted. “No, no, that’s nonsense. The toolbox is just the right size, like it’s always been. It’s enough for
me, just like it was for my father before me. I can’t see any point in expanding it.”
Sunny tried to formulate a few sentences about thinking outside the box—or toolbox—but her attempts fell on deaf ears, and
she instead concentrated on spreading butter on a slice of bread.
Ingrid almost felt sorry for Sunny. She was so enthusiastic about her studies and genuinely interested in understanding the
mechanisms behind the development of the tourism industry, but if she thought she could discuss innovation processes with
old-timers such as Alfred and Maja, she was barking up the wrong tree. Figuring out your audience was something you needed
to learn if you wanted to achieve your goals. Perhaps Ingrid should talk to Sunny about that some other time, but right now,
she had good news.
“Sunny,” she said. “Guess who’s coming here this weekend!”
“Vegard?” Sunny suggested with a hopeful smile.
“Yes! But not alone. He’s bringing Pia Pihlstr?m!”
“ What!? Are you kidding me?”
Sunny looked so ecstatic that Ingrid had to laugh. It was fun to share the news with someone who really knew how to appreciate
it. The visit from the famous influencer had been on Ingrid’s mind ever since her conversation with Vegard last night.
“Yeah, she saw his last posts and thought the hotel seemed really nice. They agreed she’d come up with him this weekend. Vegard was so excited. You know he’s pretty proud of being friends with her.”
“Of course he is!” Sunny shouted. “Pia Pihlstr?m! She has, like, almost a million followers on Instagram, you know that, right?”
Ingrid grinned. “I knew you’d be excited!”
Maja and Alfred looked as though they had no idea what was going on. “Pia Pihlstr?m—who’s that?” Maja asked.
Sunny was quick to answer. “Well, first she got famous as a model, but then she started a blog where she shares stuff with
her followers. Everything from skincare routines to animal welfare. She’s super popular.”
“Okay,” Maja said. “But what does she do ? Does she make anything? What does she do for a living?”
“She lives off her blog and social media,” Sunny said. “And different jobs and ads and that kind of thing. But she doesn’t
share absolutely everything. She kind of has a mysterious private life.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, she never says anything about boyfriends or stuff like that,” Sunny said. “Has Vegard told you anything, Ingrid?”
“No, but apparently there are a lot of rumors,” Ingrid replied. “She doesn’t tell him much either.”
“I think it just makes people even more curious, if you ask me,” Sunny said. “Everyone loves speculating about what she’s hiding. I mean, why doesn’t she ever just
come out and say she’s fallen in love?”
“Maybe she’s one of those... lesbians?” Alfred interjected.
“No,” Sunny said. “That’s not something people think they need to hide anymore. But maybe she’s asexual? Or polyamorous?”
“Or secretly married?” Ingrid laughed.
In any case, she knew what Sunny was saying was true. Every one of Pia P’s photos and updates was scrutinized, and “everyone”
was watching to see whether she ever hinted at something private. Well, not Ingrid, but she was totally behind the times anyway,
as Vegard liked to point out.
“But apart from her love life, she shares a ton,” Sunny continued. “She posts tons of things from her travels and restaurants
and stuff. So if she comes here, it’s super cool! There are thousands of people out there who want to do whatever Pia P does.”
“Yeah, it’s no wonder Vegard is so happy!” Ingrid said. “But of course, that means it’s even more important that everything
goes well when she’s here.”
The thought was overwhelming. Pia Pihlstr?m was used to traveling the world in first class on sponsored trips. She probably
wouldn’t be all that impressed by a rundown hotel with Cheetos in the corners and mice in the kitchen—and probably not by
a rustic pinnekj?tt dinner, either.
Ingrid finished her coffee, grabbed a banana from the fruit platter on the counter, and left the kitchen after saying goodbye
to the others. She knew what to do when she started getting stressed like this: get outside.
The ground crunched beneath her boots, and the air was freezing cold. Ingrid pulled her buff up over her chin and her hat down over her ears. It was still dark outside, but the light was growing over the horizon, ready to unleash a new day. Today, she wanted to see the sunrise from Angelina Hill, and she walked the familiar path along the edge of the big ravine. It was dangerous for untrained hikers with its steep rock face down one side, but it was Ingrid’s old stomping ground. She could have walked the path blindfolded. She’d walked here in all kinds of weather and all kinds of moods. The others had always thought it was a bit odd that she plodded around like this all by herself, but walking gave her peace and comfort.
A lot of things had changed in her life, but the landscape at Glitter Peak always remained the same. It was wild and overwhelming
with the gray rock masses and steep, sharp summits, with Heaven’s Horn towering above the rest. At the same time, the mountains
were also full of detail, and they had all kinds of secrets you had to be a local to know about—where the reindeer usually
grazed, where you could take shelter if you were caught in a storm, where it was safe to walk, where you needed to be extra
careful. She passed Troll Rock, which Maja Seter claimed an old troll had thrown when humans settled near Glitter Peak and
started building there. As a child, Ingrid had always shuddered at the thought. It was terrifying that the troll had been
so angry—and it was lucky that the rock hadn’t hit the hotel! She’d also wondered where the troll went after that. Had it
retreated to another mountain area, or had it forgotten to hide when the sun came up and turned into a stone itself? Perhaps
it was lurking somewhere between the mountains, waiting for the right time to take its revenge?
The sky was starting to lighten as Ingrid set off up toward Angelina Hill, which had been named after her mother. Ingrid had called it “Angel Hill” when she was little, imagining her parents rising like angels into the big, blue vault over Glitter Peak. Even now, it still felt as though she could sense their presence here more than anywhere else. She’d been so young when they died that she couldn’t really remember them properly—except as a safe and warm presence. Occasionally, a scent or thought might flash through her like a bolt of lightning, a reminder of what they had once been.
Her heart rate rose in the demanding terrain, and she started to warm up. She was still wearing her advanced sports watch,
a Garmin Tactix that Preben had given her. She stopped at the top of the hill, took it off, and put it in her jacket pocket.
She stretched her arms up in the air and took a deep breath, taking in the view and enjoying the cold air flowing into her
lungs. Her worries, her everyday problems, the practical challenges of the hotel—everything seemed so small when she was standing
up here. On one side, she stared straight down into the dark gorge. On the other, the scree continued all the way to the base
of Heaven’s Horn, now silhouetted against the brightening sky.
She looked up at the summit, which would soon be bathed in golden light. Ingrid used to love climbing on Heaven’s Horn. She’d
summited for the first time at the age of twelve, guided by an experienced mountaineer from the village. Nana Borghild had
said that as far as she knew, Ingrid was the youngest person to have made it to the top. It was a challenging route, and Borghild
herself had been fourteen the first time she made it up. Ingrid had been surprised when her grandmother told her about her
own ascent. She’d been in her sixties at the time—an age that seemed ancient to a twelve-year-old. It had been impossible
to imagine that Borghild had also once been an enthusiastic young climber. But she had been, just like Ingrid. At some point,
however, Borghild had also stopped climbing. There was a lot Ingrid didn’t know about her grandmother’s life and past. Ingrid
made a resolution: she was going to ask her more now, while she still had the chance.
The fact that her grandmother knew the wild and dangerous joys of climbing had certainly contributed to her giving Ingrid the freedom to pursue the hobby. Nana Borghild understood the rewards it could bring and the draw of the mountains. Over time, climbing had become Ingrid’s life, and she had summited many other peaks—the wildest and most challenging in the world. But after what happened last summer, she hadn’t climbed a single mountain.
A piercing noise broke her train of thought—her phone. How silly of her to forget to put it on silent; she usually did that
when she was out walking. Her walks were her way of meditating, and she didn’t like to be disturbed. But when she pulled her
phone out of her jacket pocket, she saw that it was Vegard. She might as well answer.
“Hi, Vegard!”
“Good morning, hon! What are you up to?”
“I’m out on a walk.”
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to disturb you. Should we chat later?”
“No, it’s fine. I’m taking a break now. Standing and looking at the view of Heaven’s Horn and Styggfossen.”
“Oh. Do you think... would you ever want to try climbing them again?”
Not only had she climbed Heaven’s Horn in her past life, but she’d also loved ice climbing Styggfossen in the winter—a challenge
that often attracted groups of climbers to the hotel. She suddenly recalled the one time she’d brought Preben up here and
how much fun they’d had. Styggfossen was a challenge even for an experienced climber like him, but they’d made it to the top
and warmed up their frozen bodies together afterward...
She brought herself back to the conversation with Vegard.
“Do I want to climb them again? Nope. I’m done.” She could tell that her friend wanted to say something but was holding back. He probably knew that there was no point and changed the subject.
“There were a few things I wanted to discuss with you before Pia and I come up on Friday. I was wondering who else will be
at the dinner. Are any locals coming? What about that sheep farmer?”
“You mean Thor Seter?”
Vegard liked to tease her about her childhood friend Thor: “How are things with that cute farmer, hmm?” Thor was one of the
few friends from her school days with whom she still had contact, and Vegard had met him once or twice and gotten it into
his head that Ingrid had gone “home to her childhood sweetheart.” Or he pretended to think so, at least. Vegard knew that
wasn’t really the case, even though she and Thor had sort of been “boyfriend-girlfriend” for about three weeks in the fifth
grade.
“Why on earth would I ask him to come to dinner?”
“Well, I mean, he is handsome. And maybe he could be an exotic escapade for Pia?”
Ingrid snorted.
Once they’d finished talking, she stayed there for a while longer, watching the sun coming up, before she turned and started heading back home. She really did want to imagine that she might climb Heaven’s Horn again one day. She’d lived with and for climbing for almost her whole life and came back home to find what she’d lost along the way. She’d thought it would be waiting for her here—the peace, the anchorage she needed, the roots. But panic rose just at the thought of the steep wall, the gorge below her with its frozen waterfall, the masses of snow that could break loose and bury her . . .
Deep down, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to climb the mountain again.