December 6
Things could have been so different , Ingrid said to herself. She pulled off her paint-stained work clothes and tossed them in the laundry basket. She could have
accepted the job in Thailand that she was offered last year. ( Who said your career is over? she heard Vegard’s voice say at the back of her head.) The company, Thai Climbing, organized trips to summit mountains such
as Doi Inthanon and rock-climbing courses in Krabi. She could have lived in a beachfront bungalow, guiding adventurous tourists
during the day and relaxing in the evenings when the buses had gone and the dive boats had docked for the night. She could
have felt the warm sand between her toes as she walked down to the sea at sunset, floated on her back, and looked up at the
sky. Eighty degrees in the water, eighty degrees in the air. Perfect. She could have had a coconut drink when she came ashore,
looking forward to a long evening on the terrace with only the crashing of the waves to accompany her.
She put on clean pants and a T-shirt and looked out the window at the parking lot.
Or she could have accepted the offer from New York, the one from the center for nature conservation run by one of her sponsors.
It wasn’t hard to imagine—finishing off a run around the Reservoir in Central Park before work, looking around in amazement
at this vast green space in the middle of the city, luxury high-rises on all sides. What amazing foresight the city planners
had had when they’d set aside this enormous green area in the middle of a place where apartments were now going for some of
the highest prices per square foot in the world. She imagined a gray squirrel darting up a tree trunk, a man on roller skates
gliding past, a saxophonist playing on one of the walkways. The images flickered away, and she once again saw only the gray
parking lot at Glitter Peak, frost-covered bushes and heather surrounding the area. The trees in her imaginary scene had been
green. It was easiest to imagine New York in the summer.
But it isn’t summer , she thought as she shut the door behind her and headed for the stairs. And I’m not in New York. Not in London, Paris, or Sydney either, for that matter. But she could have been in any of those places if she’d wanted to. Because even though she felt as though it was all over after the accident and was sure that her career was ruined, that wasn’t actually the case. All kinds of possibilities had been open to her after she came home from the Himalayas. That was exactly what Vegard kept trying to remind her about. She had friends and contacts in all kinds of places after her years in the climbing and expedition worlds. Her commitment to climate and environmental work had helped her get to know people in environmental organizations, and you couldn’t deny that her years in the limelight with Preben had also contributed to her receiving even more inquiries. Ingrid Berg was a name that a lot of people wanted to be associated with.
But what had she chosen to do? She hadn’t accepted any of the offers that could have given her a more comfortable life in
a better climate. No, she’d fled from the mountains that had ruined her life—for another mountain. Home to Glitter Peak, where
her grandmother and the hotel were waiting and had been waiting for years. Somehow, it felt as if fate had finally caught
up with her.
She walked onto the porch and looked out over the square. They should be arriving soon.
***
The black Audi SUV crunched over the gravel and swerved elegantly before coming to a stop. The driver’s-side door opened,
and out hopped Vegard Vang, his dashing figure clad in a down jacket and suede shoes. His medium-blond hair was fashionably
tousled, and he was suspiciously tan for mid-December. Vegard grinned and waved at Ingrid before he walked around the car
and opened the door on the passenger side.
Ingrid’s first glimpse of Pia Pihlstr?m was of a pair of elegant cognac-brown high-heeled leather boots. ( I hope she brought better hiking boots , Ingrid thought. She won’t get far in this terrain with that kind of footwear .) The boots continued up a pair of long legs to a wide, white coat. The feet were placed tentatively on the frozen ground,
and Vegard stretched out a hand. A tall figure stepped out of the car, and Pia Pihlstr?m revealed herself in all her glory.
She was truly beautiful. Her face was sculpted, her eyebrows two pronounced arches over large eyes, a surprisingly prominent nose, and full lips. Her honey-blond locks flowed down to the waist of her white coat.
Vegard shut the car door behind her, then dashed over the courtyard and up the stairs to Ingrid.
“Hi!” he said, hugging her tightly. Ingrid hugged him back, feeling the warmth of his smooth cheek and breathing in the fresh
scent of his cologne. She wasn’t usually a hugger; it somehow felt too intimate, like an invasion of privacy, when you pressed
yourself up against other people like that. She usually preferred a polite handshake, but it was different with Vegard.
“So good to see you!” she exclaimed. “Welcome!”
“Thanks!” He beamed. Then he jogged back to the car and opened the trunk while Pia waited next to him. Wait a minute... what is this? Ingrid thought as she fixed her eyes on the influencer again. The elegant white coat showed an obvious bump—like a mountaintop—around
Pia P’s midsection. Surely it couldn’t be...? Yes, it was. Someone had forgotten to tell Ingrid something. Admittedly,
the female body wasn’t Vegard Vang’s primary area of interest—but surely he hadn’t failed to notice that Pia Pihlstr?m was
pregnant?
***
“Of course I knew! I’m not blind,” Vegard exclaimed with a roll of the eyes when Ingrid got him alone for a moment. They were
sitting on the couch in her apartment, and she fixed him with an accusatory stare.
“You don’t think you could have mentioned it, then? She must be... six or seven months along!”
“I promised I wouldn’t say anything.” Vegard shrugged.
He took a sip of water from the glass Ingrid had placed in front of him and ran a hand through his hair, tousling it even more.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve known for a while but I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone. And I didn’t consider the fact that...
that... you might think it was an uncomfortable surprise. That was thoughtless of me.”
Alfred had carried the luggage up to the rooms, and Ingrid, Pia, and Vegard had agreed to meet down in the bar later that
afternoon so Pia could rest for a bit. Vegard had joined Ingrid in her apartment after a warm greeting from Nana Borghild
and the rest of the staff.
Ingrid had to quickly find Pia a room on the second floor instead of the one they’d originally prepared on the fourth. She
couldn’t make her walk up all those stairs with that belly. Sunny had made the change at record speed while Ingrid kept Pia
and the others busy in the foyer. Sunny was excited about the urgent assignment, and when she saw their celebrity guest, she’d
practically lost her ability to speak. Ingrid had to take her aside and remind her that as a hotel employee, she should never,
never, ever post anything about their guests on social media. When she saw the disappointed look on the young girl’s face, she realized
that it had been a much-needed reminder. Anything about Pia P’s stay at Glitter Peak Lodge had to be posted by Pia herself.
“It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable ,” Ingrid said to Vegard. She wasn’t sure whether that was totally true, but what she felt was irrelevant. “I was thinking
more about the practical side of things. How far along is she?”
“Relax, she isn’t due for ages,” Vegard said.
Ingrid scoffed. “Since when have you been an expert in this kind of thing?”
“Well, I’m actually pretty familiar with it now because of Pia. She doesn’t have many people she can count on. She hasn’t told anyone she’s expecting. It’s a little . . . complicated.”
“Seriously? She hasn’t told anyone?” Ingrid widened her eyes. “But how on earth has she managed to hide it?”
“Well, when you live most of your life on social media and aren’t out much otherwise, it’s not that hard. She’s good at cropping
photos, and neither her face nor her home look particularly pregnant.”
“But she does have some friends, right? Besides you, I mean? A social circle? And... there must be a father of the child somewhere?”
Vegard set his bright eyes on her. “Well, maybe there is. But whoever it is... that’s a well-kept secret.”
“So she hasn’t even told you?”
He let his gaze drift across the living room and over the green dress, which was still hanging outside the closet door.
“Nope, not even me.”
***
“Oh, this looks amazing!” Pia Pihlstr?m exclaimed when they entered the dining room.
She was right—it really did look amazing. Tall candles flickered in the candelabras on both sides of the room, and the long tables were decked with white
linen tablecloths and the hotel’s finest glassware and tableware. The napkins were also linen, and the silver napkin rings,
freshly polished by Maja, glittered in the glow from the dancing candles. The sun had long since gone down, and the view through
the large windows revealed a dark blue sky above rugged peaks.
The furniture was solid and handmade, and the high-backed chairs had carvings in the national romantic style and had been in use since the late nineteenth century. Ingrid felt a sudden sense of pride that the furniture had been so well cared for.
Alfred had been down in the forest to collect spruce branches for decoration early in the day, and their fresh scent mingled
with the enticing aromas wafting in from the kitchen. Birch logs crackled in the fireplace.
A few hotel guests were already in the dining room, and the sound of chattering and clinking glasses and cutlery could be
heard over the soft background music. Their own small group headed for a reserved table at the back of the room and took their
seats as directed by Nana Borghild. There were seven people in addition to Ingrid: Vegard, Pia, Nana Borghild, Aisha, Hussein,
Alfred, and Thor Seter. Thor had arrived half an hour before dinner and had a drink at the bar with the others before they
went to the table. Even though she’d invited him at the last minute and because of Vegard’s nagging, Ingrid thought it was
nice to have him here, actually.
Maja and Sunny were busy cooking and serving. Maja had brusquely rejected Ingrid’s suggestion that they should join the meal
afterward. Maja believed a certain professional distance should be kept and hinted that she didn’t think it was entirely appropriate
for the caretaker to participate in the dinner either, but Ingrid wanted to fill up the table. It made it more credible as
a kind of rehearsal. There would be more guests closer to Christmas, additional staff would be hired, and they would have
several full tables like this one every single evening! A lot of things had to go right.
Ingrid stood at the end of the table with her back to the wall and tapped her glass once the others had taken their seats. Seven pairs of eyes were fixed on her. Vegard’s alert Muppet-like peepers; Pia P’s gray-blue eyes framed by long lashes beneath well-shaped brows; Nana Borghild’s sharp and familiar gaze between smile lines; Aisha’s and Hussein’s warm, brown eyes; Alfred’s indeterminate look beneath bushy brows; and Thor Seter’s bright blue optimism. Thor’s look hadn’t changed since he and Ingrid started in the same class at Dalen Elementary School twenty-seven years ago.
Ingrid cleared her throat.
“Welcome everyone. This is a big occasion, even though we’re a small gathering,” she said. “We’ve eaten a lot of dinners in
this hall before, but this is my first dinner party as manager. As you know, I grew up here, under Nana Borghild’s wing, after
my parents passed away.”
She felt her voice trembling and fixed her gaze on her grandmother, who gave her a reassuring smile.
Ingrid went on, “Nana Borghild has run the hotel since the 1960s. First with her parents, then with my grandfather until his
passing. She’s been the manager of Glitter Peak Lodge for fifty years, in other words. I would therefore like to start by
toasting to Nana Borghild.”
Ingrid raised her glass of sparkling wine. “Cheers!” Hussein shouted, raising his glass of juice. Everyone laughed and lifted
their own glasses—filled with wine, apple cider, black currant juice, or a nonalcoholic mojito.
“And cheers to the new manager,” Borghild said, raising her glass again.
Ingrid put her glass down on the table while the others toasted a second time. She cleared her throat and paused before continuing
her welcome speech.
“Now, I have— finally , some might say—come home to Glitter Peak to take over the running of the hotel. We will both continue the traditions of
the past and introduce some new ones. This year, we’ll be staying open through Christmas and New Year’s, with a program that
includes everything from beer tasting and skiing courses to dancing and the classic Norwegian tradition of walking around
the Christmas tree. I’m excited, and I know that this never could have happened without all of your help. I’m so happy every
one of you could come—and a special welcome to you, Pia, here for the first time.”
The influencer smiled and nodded.
Ingrid continued: “So, a little bit about the food we’ll be eating tonight. For the starter, we’re having smoked trout with
apple salad. And Thor here delivered today’s main course, pinnekj?tt, which was prepared by his aunt Maja and her skilled
kitchen assistants. I hope and believe you’ll enjoy it. Bon appétit, dear friends.”
“Thank you!” and “Cheers!” resonated from the others once again, and they drank and looked into one another’s eyes, excited
that the meal was officially underway.
Nana Borghild stood up when they were finished with the starter and leaned toward Ingrid.
“This is going spectacularly,” she whispered.
Ingrid nodded happily. She’d placed Pia P between herself and Vegard, with Alfred the furthest away since he wasn’t exactly the most skilled in the noble art of conversation. She had poor Sunny’s attempts at conversation about incentives fresh in her mind. Pia was easy to talk to; she was friendly and interested in everything having to do with the hotel—so Ingrid didn’t mind that she kept pulling out her phone to take pictures of drinks and decor. That was her job, after all, not to mention the reason that Vegard had invited her here in the first place. Pia was wearing a lovely green velvet pantsuit, her cheeks were aglow, and her blond locks were gathered in a loose braid down her back. She really was extraordinarily beautiful, Ingrid thought, and not just that; she also seemed sharp and intelligent. Ingrid was almost ashamed to find that surprising.
Thor was sitting opposite Pia. He was handsome and friendly, a little taciturn when he met new people, perhaps, but now he
was talking enthusiastically about animals and photography with both Pia and Hussein, who was sitting next to him.
Maja and Sunny came in with pinnekj?tt, sausages, almond potatoes, and mashed turnips, and a collective murmur of excitement
spread through the group. Ingrid saw Thor studying the meat extra carefully. She took a bite, met his gaze, and nodded happily
as she savored the delicious, salty flavor. This was top-notch pinnekj?tt, and it boded well for the future Christmas dinners.
Aisha was sitting between Hussein and Alfred, across from Nana Borghild. She seemed a bit quiet today. Could it have something
to do with the food? When they’d spoken before she was hired, Ingrid had gently touched on food customs, and also how Aisha,
as a Muslim, felt about Christmas and other traditions. “We don’t celebrate Christmas ourselves, of course, but both my family
and Mohammed’s family have been in the tourism industry for decades,” Aisha had said. “So we’re used to making arrangements
for all kinds of holidays! At the hotel in Aqaba we even have gingerbread houses—the biggest in town!”
Maybe there was something else that was bothering her. Aisha’s husband was still in Jordan. Who knew how things were going with him and the rest of the family, some of whom were in Syria as well? Aisha didn’t talk about it much, and Ingrid wondered whether her reticence might be some kind of self-preservation. It had been a long time since she and her husband and child had been a nuclear family; when Ingrid got to know Aisha and Hussein, Aisha was working as the manager of a catering company in Kathmandu. She and her husband hoped to live together again at some point, but everything was still unresolved. It must be hard, Ingrid thought, living with such uncertainty—especially when you have a child.
Aisha took the napkin from her lap and wiped a bit of dried turnip mash off Hussein’s chin. She was wearing a beautiful black
long-sleeved dress with red and white embroidery. Nana Borghild had stopped and admired it when they’d met in the bar. The
traditional Arabic patterns weren’t so unlike the bunad embroidery she did herself, and Borghild recognized good craftsmanship
when she saw it.
Ingrid turned her attention to Pia when Sunny and Maja reappeared with another round of pinnekj?tt. “Would you like some more?”
“Yes, please, it’s delicious,” Pia said. “I probably shouldn’t take that much, but I suppose I’m eating for two now.”
It was actually the first time Pia had alluded to her pregnancy, and Ingrid hadn’t wanted to ask. She wondered whether this
was her chance to find out more, but Pia was concentrating on her food, savoring every bite. “You know, I’ve never actually
had pinnekj?tt before!” she said.
“Really? Well, I guess you probably grew up with ribs for Christmas dinner, then?” In Norway, families usually ate one or
the other.
“Yeah, we’d have all kinds of things. But to be honest, my family wasn’t all that into Christmas traditions.”
Ingrid could tell that Pia didn’t really want to talk about her family, so she steered the conversation toward Glitter Peak
instead. Perhaps it could be inspiring for Pia to hear about the history of the place and all the famous people who’d skied
and climbed here over the years.
“And I’m hoping to show you some good photo ops tomorrow,” Ingrid said. “We really do have to try to create a little Christmas mood even if the snow is taking its sweet time.”
“There has to be snow for Christmas,” Vegard broke in. “Otherwise it’ll be pretty hard to organize skiing courses and sleigh rides,
and we’ve been posting everywhere that you’ll be running those.”
By now, people had worked their way through two or three portions, and a blissful mood settled over the table.
“Well... does anyone have room for rice pudding with red sauce?” a smiling Maja asked as she and Sunny cleared the dinner
plates. “I know that you definitely have an extra stomach for dessert, Thor,” she said, ruffling her nephew’s hair. Thor blushed and looked at Ingrid
and the out-of-town guests, clearly embarrassed.
“Do you have an extra stomach?” Hussein asked enthusiastically. “Cool! Did you know that camels have three stomachs? So they can eat a lot of dessert!”
Thor smiled slyly. “My sheep actually have four stomachs. So they win! But I don’t want to share Aunt Maja’s rice pudding
with them. It’s so good that we need to keep it for ourselves, Hussein.”
He nudged the boy with a wink.
Everyone laughed. Alfred pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead before bending over the dessert. Ingrid wondered whether he was too hot in his seldom-worn suit—which had a cut that was probably fashionable in the 1970s—and having had a couple of glasses of aquavit to boot. Alfred lifted his spoon, ready to tackle the dessert with the same gusto as he had the pinnekj?tt—but then suddenly raised a hand to his forehead again. He stared at it in surprise before lifting his gaze.
“It’s dripping!” he exclaimed. “The ceiling is dripping !”
***
Such an abrupt departure from the dinner table had never been witnessed before. Cutlery clattered and chairs scraped.
Ingrid was on her feet at the same time as Alfred and stared up at the ceiling. Yes, it was true: there was a wet spot on
the wood up there, and a drop that grew until it dripped right into Alfred’s beer glass with a splash ! And splash ! Another drop.
The other guests in the restaurant had begun to look toward their table with growing curiosity, and Borghild went over to
reassure them while Ingrid and Alfred headed for the floor above, where the leak must have been coming from. Alfred huffed
and puffed up the stairs. They stopped for a moment before he led the way into the corridor and stopped abruptly outside Pia
P’s room.
“This must be where it’s coming from,” he said.
“Do you think it’s Pia’s bathroom?” Ingrid asked. “Could she have forgotten to turn off the water in the bath?”
Alfred tried the door, but it was locked. For a moment, Ingrid considered asking him to break it down, but Alfred beat her to it and pulled the universal key from his suit pocket. He unlocked the door, and they both entered the room and stood on the threshold of Pia’s bathroom. It wasn’t clear what had happened in there. Ingrid had been expecting to see water gushing down from an overflowing tub, but it was empty and the taps were turned off. However, the floor was covered in at least an inch of water, some of which was flowing out into the hallway as well.
Ingrid heard someone come in and turned around. Pia was standing behind her with a horrified expression, looking at the mess.
“I... I took a bath before I came downstairs,” she said. “But I didn’t notice anything wrong then.”
Alfred took off his shoes and socks and waded resolutely into the bathroom.
“Something’s going on down here,” he said, flipping the drain grate in the floor open with a small screwdriver he pulled out
of his jacket pocket. Apparently wearing his best suit didn’t stop the caretaker from carrying the right equipment at all
times. “It almost looks like the water is coming back up. The drainpipe from the bathtub must be leaking, or maybe one of
the branch pipes has come loose.”
Ingrid went in and squatted down next to Alfred. He tentatively reached his right hand down the drain and grabbed a clump that he pulled up with a grimace. It looked like hair and wet paper. No wonder the water hadn’t been draining properly. It was now flowing down slowly, but it would be a long time before it was all gone. The water had also obviously collected under the bathroom floor and dripped through the joists to the dining room below. Ingrid shuddered as she thought about the potential damage and expenses. How much could actually go wrong in such a short time? It almost felt like a cruel joke considering that not five minutes ago, she’d been sitting there, reveling in how well everything was going.
She suddenly noticed that her feet were wet. The suede ballerina shoes were dark with moisture and would never look right
again after this. Her green silk dress was also soaked through at the edges. It was probably ruined as well. That green hope
of hers wasn’t looking all that good anymore.