27
Filming over the next few days was a lot more pleasant. When Nora presented her pared-back list of baked goods—which Henrik had already praised when there were no cameras present—he made a few suggestions and they bickered a little as usual, but they also had some fun. And she found she had nothing against the flirtation—a smile that lasted a fraction of a second too long, a teasing but warm remark. In fact, she had to remind herself that it was just for the show. But she was starting to enjoy spending time with Henrik. For real. Or rather—no, it wasn’t for real at all.
On Saturday the production team had arranged for Nora to go and buy a Christmas tree, and then there would be a break in filming because Henrik had to attend the board meeting in Stockholm.
When Nora met up with the team on Saturday morning, Henrik was already there with a dark-blue knapsack over his shoulder. “I’ve taken care of the mulled wine.” He fished out the green thermos. “And some gingerbread cookies.” He held up a tin. “So I assume we’re good to go.”
“Absolutely.” The fact that he had remembered these details gave her a lovely warm feeling, but she told herself it was only because she wasn’t used to him being so considerate.
It was a windy day, and she was glad she’d chosen her warm quilted jacket. She had also opted for her wool hat, mittens, and thick socks inside her boots. She had made a special effort; she wanted to be warm, but she also wanted to look good.
Henrik was wearing a gray quilted jacket, jeans, a red wool hat, and heavy winter boots. The lumberjack vibe suited him. For the first time she was looking forward to the day’s filming. This wasn’t going to be about her and her shortcomings; they were just going to buy a Christmas tree, and she couldn’t possibly be criticized for that.
“Ready?” Ted said. “I thought we’d start out here. The Christmas lights are already up, and you’ll stroll down the main street. We’ll film a few scenes with the two of you walking and chatting before we reach the square.” The camera operators took up their positions, two in front of them and one behind. Ted waved his hand, and Nora moved a little closer to Henrik. “Off you go,” said Ted. “It doesn’t matter what you talk about, there won’t be any sound. This is just for background and atmosphere.” He clapped his hands and filming began.
They set off and turned onto the main street, which was bathed in misty winter sunshine. The street was adorned with white silk ribbons and enormous silver-colored snowflakes.
“Beautiful day,” Henrik said, squinting against the low sun.
“It is.”
They continued in silence.
“Any plans for the weekend?” Henrik asked eventually.
Nora nodded and smiled. “Yes ... well no, not really.” Her expression was skeptical. “Are you really interested, or are you just asking because they’re filming?”
He laughed. “I’m really interested.”
She laughed, too, and shook her head at the absurdity of the situation. “I’ll be spending most of my time at the patisserie.”
“Do you ever get tired of it?”
“Not the work itself, but working such long hours is hard. And of course not knowing if I’ll last the month is exhausting. But I’ll keep fighting, because I love it.”
Henrik nodded thoughtfully.
When they reached the square, a young girl yelped with delight when she saw them. Filming stopped, and the girl hurried over to ask Henrik for a selfie. Meanwhile Nora looked around the square, and was completely blown away by the Christmas world before her.
Elnaz came over to join her. “Our events company worked their magic,” she explained, looking pleased with herself.
A proper Christmas market had appeared, with small red booths selling handmade gloves, wooden candlesticks, and other crafts, and plenty of Christmas trees. Fairy lights were looped between the booths, and the sweet smell of roasted almonds hung in the air.
Filming resumed, and Henrik served them both steaming mulled wine from the thermos. They took a stroll around the square so that Nora could inspect the trees. They stopped by a long row propped against a wall.
“How about this one?” Henrik held out a tree.
“Too thin at the bottom.”
“Right.”
They kept going. The smell of the firs, the dry air, and the taste of mulled wine made it feel exactly like the beginning of Advent. The classic mulled wine Henrik had chosen was perfect for the occasion.
“This one?”
Nora took a sip of her wine, then examined his offering. She sighed. “Too top heavy.”
After the sixth tree, Henrik was the one who was sighing. “I’m going to need plenty of energy to get through this.”
Elnaz was beaming, delighted that they sounded like an old married couple bickering over the choice of tree. Even Ted looked pleased. And Nora was having a lovely time, much better than she’d expected. Once again she had to remind herself that this wasn’t real. But there was nothing wrong with enjoying it; it was a whole lot better than feeling angry all the time.
Henrik went over to the booth selling roasted almonds. A woman in a thick fur coat tipped two scoops into a brown paper cone and handed it to Henrik. He held it out to Nora, who helped herself as she continued toward the next batch of trees, totally focused on her goal. She glanced at the Nordmann firs, their needles gleaming silver-blue in the sunlight, then continued on to the Norway spruces.
She stopped. “That one.”
She had found the perfect specimen—bushy from top to bottom, not a single branch out of place. She pulled it out so that she could examine it in all its glory.
“Fantastic,” he agreed. “Like something out of a painting by Jenny Nystr?m.”
Nora nodded. All that was missing was the perfect family surrounding the tree.
The stallholder bound the tree in twine and passed it to Henrik. The cameras captured the scene as he hoisted it onto his shoulder, then set off across the square with Nora by his side. Suddenly the tree slipped, but Nora caught it. The needles scratched her face and she shrieked in surprise, which made Henrik laugh. He reclaimed the tree, but a branch got caught in her hair, and he carefully worked it free. Then she felt something wet on her forehead. Was it raining? She looked up at Henrik; he had snowflakes in his thick beard. They both glanced up at the sky, which a few moments ago had been clear blue. Now it was milky white, the snow drifting slowly down from the clouds.
She smiled at him. “This is almost too good to be true!” For a moment she forgot the cameras and lost herself in his brown eyes. She only came to her senses when Ted waved at them to start walking, and they set off carrying the tree between them.
“It’s perfect,” Henrik said. “Elnaz and Ted will be delighted—this will be great on TV,” he whispered.
Nora laughed again, and realized that she hadn’t laughed this much during any of the previous filming days. Or for a very long time, to be honest.
As they made their way back to the patisserie, Henrik told her about the time when he, his mom, and her partner, Vanja, went into the forest to chop down a Christmas tree, but were caught red-handed. They propped the tree against a wall next to the café door. Henrik looked at her for a moment, and she remembered how she had felt when he kissed her at the bookstore.
When the filming ended, the team went inside to warm up, and Nora and Henrik remained outside. Nora couldn’t help laughing as Elnaz ran inside, shivering.
“What’s so funny?” Henrik wanted to know.
“You guys seem to have underestimated winters in Sm?land. It can get really cold here.”
“I think I’ve dressed appropriately,” he replied, looking down at his clothes.
“Absolutely. This is a good, thick jacket.” She placed her hand on his upper arm. A slightly too intimate gesture, but she left her hand there and smiled at him. Oh God, she was flirting and the cameras weren’t even there. She took her hand away, but kept smiling. He smiled back.
“Listen, I’ve got something to tell you—a surprise,” he said. “I should probably wait until we start filming again next week to tell you, but ...” He paused briefly. “No, I can’t wait. I have good news. Gunnebo has ordered your Lucia buns for the beginning of Advent.”
Nora’s hands flew to her face. Gunnebo was the town’s biggest employer, and she didn’t know whether she ought to celebrate or panic. “Seriously? That’s a massive order!”
Henrik nodded. “It is. Apparently someone who organizes their conferences was at the bookstore event, and she loved your food—they want sandwiches and Lucia buns. Not only that, it’s a regular order for every Monday throughout December.”
Nora laughed and threw her arms around his neck. She felt his rough beard against her cheek. The feeling of a man made her body wake up. This was something very different from the Veg Guy and Mange Lund, who seemed like boys in comparison. Much to her surprise, she kissed him. His lips were warm, a sharp contrast to the chilly air, and he kissed her back, hungrily. Pulled her around the corner into the alleyway, pushed her up against the wall of the building, and kept on kissing her. She wrapped her arms around his neck, enjoying the sensation of those soft, wonderful lips as the snowflakes drifted gently down.
When they pulled apart, he looked at her for a long time as he caught his breath. “That was unexpected.”
“Yes. But I’m not going to apologize—it was a fantastic kiss.”
He laughed. “I agree.” He tucked a strand of hair inside her hat. “You’ve got a lot to do tomorrow, and next week is going to be hectic with filming and lots of baking, so I suggest you go home and have a quiet evening. We’ve finished filming for today.”
Nora went up to the apartment on trembling legs. She had kissed Henrik Eklund. She had kissed Henrik Eklund. She would never have imagined such a thing. Never.
Henrik was right; she deserved an evening at home. And she wouldn’t give a second’s thought to what she had just done. If there was one thing she was good at, it was avoiding thinking about that kind of situation.
Just before closing time, she went down to say hi to Emil and Hassan and cash out. They’d had another good day. If their earnings continued to improve like this, they would soon turn a corner.
When she had locked up, she went to the grocery store and bought a pint of vanilla ice cream and some fresh dumplings. Back at home, she heated up the dumplings, found a Christmas movie to watch—she chose The Holiday —and settled in.
When she had finished eating, she paused the movie and returned to the kitchen. She prepared a bowl of ice cream and mixed it with some gingerbread cookie dough crumbles. She couldn’t understand why no ice cream maker had come up with this brilliant idea—ice cream with gingerbread cookie dough! There were plenty of cookie dough ice creams out there, but gingerbread had to be the best.
The dough was the one she had used for the cookies at the bookstore event, and she had to admit that her recipe and Henrik’s made the perfect combination. The brown butter gave it a nuttier taste and brought out the flavor of the toasted spices. She sat down in front of the TV again and took another spoonful of ice cream. Oh God, were things going to be awkward when they saw each other again next week? She wasn’t going to brood about that now. Or the kiss. What would be would be. Fortunately she had a few days to compose herself.
Had she behaved like a fool? Taken liberties? But he’d clearly enjoyed the kiss, hadn’t he?
She sighed and lay down on the sofa. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about this? Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? Maybe because she hadn’t had a quiet evening at home for ages, and seemed to have forgotten how to relax. And maybe because she had chosen to watch one of the most romantic movies ever made! What an idiot.
Why had she kissed him? It was totally inappropriate, given their working relationship. Then again, what normal woman would have been able to resist kissing him today? Not a single one. He had looked so good in that gray quilted jacket, with the tree over his shoulder, and the red woolen hat that brought out the color of his brown eyes. And then there was the beard that made his smile so captivating. And that slightly dangerous, raffish smile.
She sighed loudly. Reminded herself that it wasn’t for real . They might have kissed each other when the cameras weren’t around, but no doubt it was simply an extension of the show as far as Henrik was concerned. A way to keep the flirtation and the spark alive for when filming started again.
She rewound the movie to the point where her mind had begun to wander. The first sight of Kate’s cozy, snow-covered cottage. A place like that would suit Henrik perfectly, she thought. He seemed more like a country boy than a city dweller. She could picture him in front of an open fire in the evening, with a freshly cut fir tree beside him—a tree he had chopped down himself, of course, not bought from a market. Which wasn’t even a real market. And she would fit perfectly right beside him.