December 7
You can always tell who works with what , Ingrid thought as she and Alfred welcomed the workers the next day. The carpenters were almost definitely the two blond
guys, one bigger and more muscular than the other, like two brothers in a cartoon. The plumber had to be the older fellow
in the blue overalls, which meant the young, skinny one in the beanie was probably the electrician.
It really was lucky that they’d been able to come on such short notice, on a Saturday and everything—but Alfred had said it
was incredibly important to start the drying process right away. Mold could start growing after just a day or two of moisture,
and mold was a real problem that could be bad for your health and destructive (“as opposed to Cheetos,” Alfred pointed out).
They had to break open the floor in Pia’s bathroom to see whether there was water collecting under there and possibly put
in dehumidifiers.
The evening had rapidly shifted from dream to nightmare. The rice pudding had been left half-eaten when the water started dripping and the party broke up. They’d pushed the table aside and placed some buckets and towels on the floor—all as discreetly as possible, of course, so as not to spoil the mood for the other guests in the dining room. Not much water had come through the ceiling during the night, and that was a relief. Everything seemed to indicate that a drainpipe was broken. Ingrid just hoped they wouldn’t have to tear down the old ceiling over the dining room.
Once the worst of the chaos had subsided last night, Ingrid found herself consoling a weeping Pia, who had been given a new
room after poor Sunny had to go upstairs for the third time that day to set up a room farther down the hall. Pia repeated
that she’d taken a bath but that she was absolutely certain she’d turned off the water and pulled the stopper before getting
ready and coming down to the bar. There was no reason to believe that Pia had done anything wrong. The incident was clearly
just a stroke of bad luck—or rather, it was probably due to the general maintenance backlog at the hotel. Ingrid had the nagging
feeling that such problems would happen again and again.
Vegard came down the stairs, and she left Alfred to deal with the workers.
“I was just in Pia’s room,” Vegard said when he’d given Ingrid a hug. “She’s a total wreck and wants to go back home.”
“Oh no!” Ingrid cried. “Her stay can’t end like this. Is there anything we can do?”
“Maybe you can stop by her room later,” Vegard suggested.
Ingrid sighed. They’d been dreaming of good publicity and viral posts on social media, but they might just have to settle for being happy if her visit to the hotel wasn’t mentioned at all. It seemed as though there wouldn’t be a line of Pia Pihlstr?m fans out the door anytime soon.
Her phone rang. Thor Seter , the screen read. Thor had actually been offered a room so he wouldn’t have to drive back to the village after dinner, but
his friend Roger picked him up when the party came to an abrupt halt.
Ingrid glanced at Vegard apologetically and walked to the front door before answering.
“Hi, Thor,” she said, walking outside with her phone against her ear.
“Hey, you!” the deep voice on the other end replied. “I just wanted to check in on how things are going up there. See if there’s
anything I can do to help.”
“That’s really nice of you, but the workers are already here. Sorry about yesterday.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Thor said. “The food was great and the company even better.”
She smiled. “Yeah, it just ended a bit too abruptly.”
After hanging up, Ingrid went upstairs and cautiously knocked on Pia’s door.
“Come in,” a weak voice sounded, and Ingrid tried the door, which wasn’t locked. It was dark inside.
“Sorry, it’s probably pretty stuffy in here. Just open the window if you want,” Pia said. She was still in bed. Ingrid opened
the window, and drew the curtains to let the light flood in.
Pia looked considerably less glamorous than she had the day before. Her hair was disheveled, her eyes swollen, and her skin
pale.
“How are you doing? Are you sick?” Ingrid asked.
“No, I’m fine now, but I got so tired all of a sudden,” Pia replied. “I was going to come downstairs, but I was too tired, and my stomach is like . . . tight. I don’t really know how to explain it. Anyway, it’s hard to move. So I lay down for a bit after Vegard stopped by and fell asleep again. Now I’m totally out of it. And then I started thinking about what happened with the bathtub yesterday . . .”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Ingrid assured her, trying to hide her concern that Pia wasn’t feeling well. She certainly didn’t
want the star blogger to get sick here on top of all the other problems. That would almost make it seem as though there was
a curse on the whole hotel.
“I’ll come back with something for you to eat,” Ingrid said. “And a cup of tea, maybe? Or is there anything else you want?”
Pia smiled weakly. “A cup of tea and some toast would be lovely. Thank you so much. I’ll come down eventually so I can talk
to Vegard about our plans.”
When Ingrid found Vegard again, he was sitting in the library with Nana Borghild, a stack of old books and a plate of dried
dates and figs—her grandmother’s favorite snacks—on the table between them. Nana Borghild was probably educating him about
the history of the hotel and village.
“Sorry I can’t help more, Ingrid,” Vegard said as she came over to them. “But you know how hopeless I am when it comes to
practical things like this.”
“Yeah, I think it’s best that you stay away from the repairs,” she laughed. “Otherwise we’ll just make things worse. But there
are other things you can help with. Maybe you want to come on a walk and have a chat?”
“I’d love to,” Vegard replied. “Let me just run up and get my coat.”
“See you at lunch in a little while, Nana,” Ingrid said, kissing her grandmother on the cheek.
Her grandmother nodded, smiled, and put one of the books in her lap. She pretended to be engrossed in her reading again before
they were out of the room, but Ingrid could feel her grandmother’s eyes on her back on the way out.
The sun was at its highest point, which, to be fair, wasn’t particularly high at this time of year. The air was crisp and
clear.
“It’s so beautiful here,” Vegard said, looking up toward the mountains. He wasn’t wearing a hat, but Ingrid had given up nagging
him about it. “I wish David had come with us.”
His boyfriend hadn’t visited Glitter Peak yet, even though Vegard had been to the hotel several times. David worked long hours
and rarely took time off.
“It would be great if he could make the trip sometime,” Ingrid said. “But I understand that he’s busy. On the other hand,
it means I get you all to myself!”
She patted Vegard on the shoulder, and they set off across the heather while she explained the many practical challenges at
the hotel—the leak, of course, but also other issues. For example, a large group of travelers had recently canceled their
stay without any explanation. That kind of thing happened at hotels all the time, but she’d calculated for more guests than
they had now.
“We need to increase revenue,” she told Vegard, and he nodded in agreement.
He knew just as well as Ingrid that times had been tough for a while, with few guests and reduced operations. The picture was dominated by expenses, expenses, expenses—for salaries and purchases and renovations and food and transportation and taxes and God knows what else . . .
“Vegard,” she said. “I’m kind of at the point that I’m doubting that this is going to work out at all.”
“No, no, no! You can’t think like that,” Vegard protested. “The advertising has already started working, and the number of
guests will increase soon. I’m sure of it. Then your numbers will start changing from red to black.”
Ingrid nodded. That wouldn’t happen this year, though, and probably not next year, either. It would take a long time before
all the bills were paid off and salaries covered. If, on top of everything else, unforeseen expenses kept coming in all the
time, it might never happen.
“I’m not expecting you to solve this,” she said. “But it’s nice to be able to talk about these things. I don’t want to burden
Nana Borghild with everything I’m worried about.”
“No, I get that,” Vegard replied. “And the reason you took over here is probably specifically to relieve her worries! But remember that she’s the one who knows the hotel best, too. Don’t count her out completely. I
bet she still has a lot to contribute.”
There was a ding, and Vegard pulled his phone out of his pocket. He grinned.
“Reply from Hanna,” he said. “She and PX will try to make a trip up here later. But they’re not sure if they’ll manage before
Christmas.”
“Hanna? As in Hanna and the Hearts?”
“The one and only.”
“That would really be something!”
The artist Hanna and her photographer boyfriend, Per Xandersen, known as PX, were currently among the brightest stars on the Norwegian celebrity scene. Ingrid knew that Vegard got a lot of requests from people who wanted to visit the hotel, but that it usually didn’t work out. She still appreciated that he tried, though.
They headed for the kitchen when they got back to the hotel, and Ingrid prepared a simple meal of whole-grain bread, cheese,
and salad. Alfred briefed her on his conversations with the workers. It didn’t seem as though the damage was as extensive
as they’d feared, he explained between mouthfuls. They’d opened up the floor and put in dehumidifiers, and they would come
back later to fix the rest.
“It’s going to be costly,” he said grimly.
Ingrid nodded but didn’t say anything. She was painfully aware that even such “minor” damage could cost tens of thousands
of kroner—kroner she didn’t have.
They had two new kitchen assistants who took care of the food for the guests on the weekend. Ingrid, Vegard, Sunny, Borghild,
and Alfred were the only ones sitting around the kitchen table today; Pia was still in her room. Maja and Aisha had the day
off, and Aisha had taken Hussein to Lillehammer. She’d made a friend when she was learning Norwegian in the small city, a
Syrian woman who now worked at one of the larger hotels there. Now, mother and son were going to spend the night at the hotel
and return on Sunday evening. Aisha wanted to buy clothes and winter gear for Hussein while they were in town. “You can never
be dressed warmly enough in Norway,” Hussein had said, grinning at Ingrid with his two missing front teeth. He’d also confided
in her that they knew of a shop where they could get much better dates for Nana Borghild than the variety available at the shop in Dalen.
The door opened slowly, and Pia P came in. She’d combed her hair and put on a simple gray wool dress.
“Honey!” Vegard was on his feet as soon as he saw her. “How are you feeling?”
Pia smiled a bit weakly. “A little better. At least now I can bear the thought of eating a little bit.”
Vegard offered his chair to Pia. He pushed it in gently as she sank down, then sat on the bench next to Ingrid. Nana Borghild
smiled approvingly, while Alfred looked at Vegard in surprise. Alfred probably thought this was a strange gesture, Ingrid
thought. Both in Dalen and at Glitter Peak, women had mostly managed to sit down on chairs without any help.
“Hello!” They suddenly heard a voice in the hallway. “Hello?”
The bell on the reception desk rang, and Ingrid was about to stand up when the kitchen door flew open with a bang. A slim,
tan woman in a green wool cape, lace-up boots, and what appeared to be a real bearskin hat over her blond hair sailed into
the room.
“Hello!” she said in broad American English, then clapped her hands together excitedly when she saw Pia’s stomach.
“Are you married?”
Pia looked at her in amazement and shook her head slightly.
The woman smiled. “Isn’t that great? You don’t have to be married these days!” She waved in a silver-haired man in a dark
blue double-breasted wool coat. “Look at her, John. Isn’t she lovely?”
“She is indeed,” the man said, raising his eyebrows slightly.
Turning to Pia once again, the woman said: “Well, if you decide to get married, I can highly recommend it. John and I have been married for thirty years, so I know what I’m talking about!” She flashed her blindingly white teeth. “It’s so wonderful to be here! Who can check us in? We’re Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins,” the woman declared in a tone of voice that sounded as if she were announcing that they were royalty. “Dr. and Mrs. John Wilkins.”
“Wilkins?” Ingrid said, standing behind the counter and looking through the reservation system. “Welcome. But we weren’t expecting
you for another two weeks... on the twenty-first?”
“I know!” the woman exclaimed excitedly. “But we heard there were rooms available here, and these chain hotels are so terribly
boring , so we thought we could come sooner. Isn’t that great? We bought a car in Lillehammer.”
“You bought a car? To use while you’re on vacation? That must have been...”
Ingrid swallowed the rest of the sentence. There wasn’t any point in commenting on how expensive it must have been. There
was nothing to indicate that these people cared much about costs.
“Yes, wasn’t that a brilliant idea? Then we can sell it again when we leave. Or keep it here for when we come back. John got
all the paperwork done in record time. You know, then we don’t have to take taxis or drive any of these terrible rental cars.”
The woman took off her bearskin hat and ran a hand through her hair.
“It was a lovely drive! So many trees! And don’t get me started on those beautiful old houses. Wasn’t thrilled with the roads, though. I actually would have expected them to be quite a bit better. But I guess that’s just how it is here in Europe. That’s why we wanted a decent car. We parked just outside, by the way. Maybe you can send the porter out for the luggage?”
“Porter?” Ingrid looked up. “Yes, of course.”
Frantic plans were forming in Ingrid’s head as she went back to the kitchen to ask Alfred to fetch the luggage. They had to
prepare the best room on the top floor. These guests seemed more than energetic enough to manage the stairs, even if they
were on the older side. Maybe Sunny could help with the food, too, so they wouldn’t have to ruin Maja’s weekend off.
In the meantime, they placed the new arrivals in the library and gave them something to drink. Ingrid wondered what kinds
of expectations they had when it came to the standard of the hotel and level of service, but she’d do her best.
“A brand-new Range Rover,” Alfred muttered to Ingrid when he came in from the parking lot with two enormous suitcases that
looked as though they weighed at least sixty pounds each. “Costs an arm and a leg.”
“Let’s hope they can afford to tip well, then!” Ingrid said quietly, nodding at the stairs Alfred would have to drag the suitcases
up.
“Fourth floor!” she said with a wink.
Alfred just grunted.
“Do you have a credit card for the registration?” Ingrid asked once she’d returned to the guests.
“Yes, of course. Jo-ohn , come and pay!” Mrs. Wilkins shouted, still at full volume. Ingrid wondered whether the new guest was even capable of anything
else.
John Wilkins, who’d barely said a word, took a black Amex card from his inside pocket and handed it to Ingrid with an almost
inaudible sigh.
***
“Hey, Ingrid, shouldn’t we put up the Christmas tree soon?” Sunny asked later that afternoon. “It would look really nice in
the pictures if everything was already decorated in the dining room.”
“I thought we’d wait with the tree until the last weekend before Christmas,” Ingrid replied. “One of the activities that Saturday
is to go out and cut down a Christmas tree. Won’t that be fun? And according to tradition—and Maja—you’re not actually supposed
to decorate the tree before Christmas Eve, you know.”
“That’s what my mom and dad say, too,” Sunny said. “But I’ve managed to get them to agree to do it earlier in December. Having
a decorated tree is so nice. That, and lights on the bushes outside. Then I can really get into the Christmas spirit! Can we put up some more lights
out by the entrance?”
“For sure,” Ingrid replied. She poured two cups of coffee and offered Sunny a cookie from one of Maja’s many cookie jars.
Saturday night in the mountains , Ingrid thought. She would have thought that Sunny would rather have the night off to be with people her own age, but she’d
said she was fine with working.
Sunny took a bite of the cookie and looked at Ingrid as she chewed. Then she said: “Hey, I was wondering if I could use the old guest books and scrapbooks for an assignment I’m working on. It’s going to be about guest reviews of hotels and how they’re combined with advertising and used as part of marketing. I’ve seen some clippings from old newspapers and stuff in the library, and there are tons of nice greetings from guests in those books. I thought it would be cool to compare it with today’s ads and Tripadvisor and that kind of thing.”
“That’s a great idea!” Ingrid said. “Of course you can use the old materials. Nana Borghild or I can help you find them.”
“Cool!” Sunny said. “Maybe we could even use some of it on social media too if we find something fun.”