Chapter 24
Over the next two weeks, Bente and Didrik communicated only by email.
She always felt a little rush of excitement when she saw his name in her inbox.
This is about work, Bente, she had to remind herself, which became more than obvious when the messages contained nothing but dry references to something Didrik had recently read that might help them in their research.
Still, she always managed to find an excuse to reach out and ask questions.
Like the time she got the list of vineyards from Frederic—the vineyards that had used brass plaques during the first half of the twentieth century.
She didn’t recognize any of the names, but forwarded the list to Didrik.
We could visit these vineyards in Bordeaux and do some more research.
Did that sound like an invitation? Yes. But they were working together, so it was a work-related invitation.
Interesting!
That was the response she got, nothing more.
Next she asked about the diary Didrik had ordered from the antiquarian bookstore, and when he told her that it had arrived but he hadn’t had time to read it yet, she suddenly became convinced that they must read it as soon as possible, because it might contain interesting information.
Can I come and pick it up tomorrow?
Absolutely. I’m not in the office tomorrow, but I’ll leave it outside the door.
He added the address of the office in G?rdet. So he wasn’t going to be there. Okay. She couldn’t say she wasn’t coming now, even if it no longer seemed quite so important to go through the diary immediately. She could easily have waited a few days.
Great. I’ll come by around ten.
Why had she written that? Did it seem too pushy?
Oh well, at least he knew the book wouldn’t be sitting outside his office all day.
And still she found herself standing at the door of the office with her heart pounding the following day. She picked up the shiny green paper bag on the ground. Maybe he would appear?
She waited a few minutes until the whole thing felt seriously pathetic. He isn’t here. Slowly she wandered down the stairs and out into the spring sunshine without having seen any sign of Didrik.
She set off for home, telling herself yet again that what had happened was just a one-time event, prompted by the seductive atmosphere of Paris, too much wine .
. . and their mutual attraction, of course.
She had to admit that Didrik Holgersson going through a crisis was one of the sexiest things she had ever experienced.
She’d had sex with a hot guy; it was a one-night stand. It was no more complicated than that. She just had to forget that he was also kind, understanding, interested in her as a person, and had a passion for history that made her love talking to him.
When she got home, an email from Elnaz was waiting for her. Bente had written asking for more details about the change of angle Elnaz was suggesting, as well as updating her on the research they had done so far.
Had a meeting with TV24 and just wanted to keep you both in the loop. Because we still don’t have any information about the bottle, they don’t think the story is strong enough.
Bente felt a surge of panic. She had to come up with something.
Her mother and sister were going to visit Lydia and Uno the following week; Uno ran the infrastructure for Hanna’s company remotely, and they needed to update the platform; plus changes of environment apparently did wonders for Hanna’s technical creativity.
Mom was taking the opportunity to go with her so she could gossip and hang out with Lydia.
An excellent chance for Bente to invite everyone over. Show some initiative.
If she was going to realize her vision, she had to take control of the discussion surrounding the show.
She had to own it. The whole thing was slipping out of her grasp, and she had to grab it back.
If she plied Don with delicious food and fine wines, maybe she would be able to convince both him and Elnaz that her format was the right way to go, assure them that they would be able to track down more information.
That very evening she sent out an invitation—short notice, but everyone said yes.
Including Didrik, albeit with a brief Cool! I’ll be there.
On the day of the dinner, she went shopping, brought up some wines she selected from the storage unit in the cellar, and got back to the apartment with plenty of time to spare.
She put down the large shopping bags and the rucksack containing the wine and unlocked the door.
As she opened it, she heard voices. Her heart sank.
Hadn’t they left yet? Had she misunderstood?
Hanna wandered into the hallway carrying her laptop, on her way to her enormous home office located next to the living room.
“What are you doing here?” Bente asked, dropping all her bags on the floor.
“Excuse me, I live here,” Hanna said without looking up.
“But I thought you were going away?”
“Do I have to explain why I’m in my own home at a particular time?” Hanna glanced at her from beneath her dark bangs.
“Of course not, it’s just that I . . .”
At that moment her mother appeared in the hallway and started rummaging through the bags. She found the packet of chips and tore it open.
Goodbye to snacks with the predinner drinks.
Bente sighed. “I’ve invited people over for dinner.”
“How lovely! We can come too.” Mom grabbed a handful of chips and stuffed them into her mouth. “Uno has a broken heart. Mirja has left him, so we all thought it would be better if he came to the city.”
“Bente, is that you?” Aunt Lydia’s voice came from the bathroom, and the door flew open. “Darling Bente!” Lydia emerged in a cloud of her signature perfume, Shalimar by Guerlain. She flung her arms wide and embraced Bente.
Bente returned the hug. The scent would cling to her clothes, it always did when she encountered Lydia. She liked it; it felt as if something of her aunt lingered after they had said goodbye. Bente was usually pleased to see Lydia—but not today.
Uno joined them, also carrying a laptop. “Hi, Bente,” he said listlessly. He gave her a quick hug and then went into the kitchen. Bente took off her trench coat, and Lydia helped her with the bags. Uno was making himself a coffee.
“Can’t you eat out?” Bente looked pleadingly at her mother, then Lydia. “Didrik and the producers are coming here.” Instantly she knew she’d made a big mistake.
Lydia inhaled sharply. “Didrik? As in Didrik Holgersson?”
When Bente first started working in TV, Lydia would call her on a daily basis wanting to know which celebrities she had met or seen.
Now that Bente thought of it, that had continued throughout her TV career.
No one had been more upset and disappointed over her breakup with the TV baker Henrik Eklund than Lydia; she had loved having him at family dinners.
Her pleasure was genuine, she had really liked him, and she had also loved having a real star in the family.
“What fun—in that case I think we’ll eat here. But we’ll stay in the background,” Bente’s mother said with a wink. She held up her empty cocktail glass and looked meaningfully at Hanna, who immediately put down her laptop and turned her attention to the various bottles of spirits on the counter.
If there was one thing Bente’s family was incapable of, it was staying in the background.
She sighed. “I don’t know if I’ve got enough food for all of you,” she said, hoping they would take the hint.
“I can run down and do some shopping,” Lydia offered. “What do you need?”
Bente realized she had no choice.
While Lydia hurried off to the grocery store, Bente unpacked the bags.
Hanna headed into her office, where Uno was now busy tapping away on his computer.
It was six o’clock, but they were perfectly capable of working night and day.
Mom sank down on the sofa with the chips, Candy Crush on her phone, and the cocktail Hanna had mixed for her.
Bente opened a bottle of Merlot, put on some soft jazz, unpacked the rest of the wine, and lit the candles in the holders around the kitchen.
Lydia soon returned.
“So tell me more about your new show. Agneta mentioned a few things, but . . .” Lydia glanced over her shoulder and leaned closer to Bente.
“She doesn’t seem to think this TV business is a good idea, but I like it.
As long as it makes you happy, sweetheart.
” Lydia’s expression was serious as she looked at her niece.
Her calm voice struck a chord with Bente, and she had to clear her throat before she answered.
“I’m happy.” She smiled and poured Lydia a glass of wine.
She was planning to serve hash browns with fish roe as a starter, followed by oven-roasted portobello mushrooms with a potato bake and a red wine sauce.
She had heard from Elnaz that ever since Don had started playing padel, he had become a little more careful about what he ate, and was avoiding meat these days.
So she was going vegetarian, with the exception of the roe.
Elnaz would eat anything, and thanks to their trip to Paris, Bente knew that Didrik liked most foods.
She had loved having dinner with him; he always studied the menu with interest and curiosity, and was keen to try something different whenever he had the opportunity.
Maybe it was his curiosity that had attracted him to history in the first place?
The chance to make discoveries, learn something new.
She pushed aside thoughts of him and focused on dinner.
Hanna and Uno soon came over to help. Uno made a salad while Hanna opened the windows to air the room. A chilly spring breeze carried in the smells of the city—frying food from the stall down on the corner, budding trees, earth and grass that had just started to grow.
After a while her mother laboriously got to her feet and came to lend a hand too.
She set the table while balancing her Manhattan between her thumb and forefinger.
The air was filled with anticipation and excitement.
Lydia was thrilled at the prospect of meeting a celebrity, Hanna was pumped over the major technical update they had just completed and were due to launch the following week, and Mom always looked forward to a lovely dinner.
Bente herself was nervous, but also eager to discuss the format of the show with her guests.
Only Uno was somewhat subdued, because Mirja wasn’t answering his calls.
Fifteen minutes before her guests were due to arrive, Bente slipped away to freshen up.
She changed into a long dress but remained barefoot.
She shook her hair loose but didn’t run the comb through—it was tidy enough for a dinner at home.
She put on some red lipstick. Was she taking a little extra care?
No, she was just making an effort—this dinner was important.
She was doing this not for Didrik’s sake, but because the people who would make important decisions about her career were coming. That was the reason.
Next she took the old wine bottle out of its box and placed both items on the kitchen island to show Don. With a bit of luck, he would realize how fascinating the story was—and what an amazing show it could be—if he actually saw and held the bottle.
At least that was what she was hoping.