Chapter 3 #3
“Really. Where are you staying?”
“Ringpynten.”
“Oh?” Mia scrunched up her nose. “I got a letter from the lawyer in charge of the owner’s estate. Mrs. Nilsen died, and I was told to cancel the renters. Sorry, I thought I contacted everyone.” Mia glanced around for the ledger. “What’s your name?”
“Ella Nilsen. Hilda Nilsen was my grandma. She left me Ringpynten.”
“You’re Mrs. Nilsen’s granddaughter?” Mia’s voice rose an octave.
She extended her hand again, and Ella shook it.
“Mia Linn. I own this shop.” Ella must’ve looked surprised, because Mia laughed and added, “I know, I look young for my age, but really, I’m twenty-nine.
This store has been in my family for generations.
My parents passed it down to me before they retired up north.
I’m also in charge of Ringpynten’s rentals and overseeing the maintenance.
The lawyer didn’t mention you were coming.
The letter only said the property would be put up for sale. How long are you staying?”
“Um, I’m not sure yet. My plane ticket is open-ended, but I can’t stay longer than two weeks. I have to get back to work.”
“What’s your job?” Mia laughed. “I’m nosy. And I love everything American! Do you know that song ‘Fast Car’ by Tracy Chapman? Do you like it?” She fiddled with her rainbow suspenders. “Tracy’s the best, isn’t she? I hope to see her in concert someday.”
“Oh yeah, I play her album all the time when I work on my fashion line,” Ella said with a smile. “I’m launching my own clothing store soon. I need to hire staff ASAP.”
“That’s so cool.” Mia grinned before reaching beneath the register to retrieve a jar labeled Inger’s Stikkelsbaer Syltet?y. A hand-painted vine with red berries decorated the logo.
“Gooseberry jam. It’s delicious! My friend Inger makes it from her gooseberry bushes. Here, try it. I’ll introduce you to Inger. Please let her know if you like it. It’s a Welcome-to-Lyng?r present.”
“Thanks. That’s so sweet of you. I’d love to try it.”
“Great!” Mia smiled. “I bet you have quite a bit on your grocery list.”
“Yes I do. But first I need a real estate agent. Is there a good one in Lyng?r?”
“Nope. The only businesses on the islands are this store, the post office, and the hotel. You’ll have to go to the mainland, to Tvedestrand.
That’s where you’ll find restaurants and bars and things that you can’t find here at my shop.
” She wrapped up the gooseberry jam. “My cousin is an agent in downtown Tvedestrand. I can call her and give her the heads-up that Ringpynten is for sale and you’re on a tight deadline.
But I should tell you: The market is slow, so selling a pricey summer home could take forever. ”
“I hope that’s not the case. But that’s kind of you. Could you do that? I would really appreciate it.” Ella had everything on the line and no one to lean on if it all blew up in her face. If the house didn’t sell quickly, she could say goodbye to Little Bird and her dreams for her future.
Mia noticed the concern in Ella’s eyes. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Ringpynten is amazing. Someone will eventually snap it up.”
“I hope so . . . I mean, the cottage doesn’t even have a street address, and so I don’t know what to tell a real estate agent.
Or even who to call to find out what it might sell for.
” She let out a sigh. “That’s why I came here myself.
And Hilda wanted her ashes scattered in Norway.
Plus, I’m hoping to learn more about my family in Lyng?r. ”
“Many of the cottages on the smaller islands, like Ringpynten, don’t have addresses.
But you know, Norway is one of the most expensive countries in the world.
” Mia gestured at the window and to the islands and water beyond.
“It’s stunningly gorgeous here. Old monied Norwegians and the nouveau riche here are willing to pay a fortune for vacation homes in Lyng?r.
Bottom line, your cottage is worth gobs of money. ”
“A fortune?” Ella stammered in surprise. “Are you sure?”
“You look confused.” Mia laughed at Ella, who could only nod in agreement.
“Let me try to explain better—as I said, I’m obsessed with the States,” Mia said with excitement.
“I saw a movie set in the Hamptons—New York, you know. That famous beach area and these isles in Lyng?r are both playgrounds for rich vacationers and trust-fund kids. I suppose owning property in either place is a status symbol—you know, wealth, importance—and those things crank up the summer-home prices.” She took a sip of soda.
“I think the inheritance tax rate is fifteen percent, but I’m not sure.
I’ll check with my cousin in Tvedestrand and let you know. ”
“That’s so kind of you. Thanks!” If this was true, Ella might have enough to get out of debt, buy Little Bird outright, and hire staff to help sew her line and to work the register.
“How is the cottage? Everything in order?” Mia asked. Bactus leaped onto the counter and let out a loud rumble while Mia scratched his ears.
“I think it has mice. You can send over Bactus anytime.” Ella laughed.
“And I’m only sort of joking. Do you happen to know who’s been there recently?
Someone left a beer bottle on the kitchen counter, and then this morning I noticed an empty whiskey bottle and cigarette lighter on the stone wall.
I’m a little worried that someone’s been hanging around. ”
“It’s probably the handyman. I hired him to replace a cracked window. I’m so sorry if it alarmed you.” Mia gave Ella an apologetic look. “He’s a great worker, who works under the table. Cheap. Just a bit messy.” She snorted. “But you know, there’s no crime in Lyng?r. I don’t even lock my door.”
“Good to know.” Ella smiled with relief. “Do you think it’d be possible for me to hire this handyman to fix the sink and the tiles on the roof, plus do a bunch of other repairs?”
“No problem, I’ll talk to him,” Mia said. “Now what’s on your list? What can I help you grab?”
Thirty minutes later, a pay-phone card, food, and supplies covered the checkout counter. Mia had talked Ella into buying everything from a strange, caramel-brown, cubed-shaped goat cheese to a Donald Duck comic book. It turned out Mia liked to sketch her own comics for stress relief.
Pulling two bottles from beneath the cash register, she said, “Inger makes rhubarb wine too. I have to keep it under the counter, though, because only government-owned liquor stores are allowed to sell wine.” Mia grabbed a real estate pamphlet, held it up to make sure Ella noticed it, and slid it onto the stack of groceries.
“Contact information for my cousin in case you’d like that.
Anything else?” she asked as she gestured toward the aisles.
“Would you mind calling me a water taxi? There’s no way I can carry all of this in one trip.”
Mia smiled. “The taxi service isn’t running right now. The owners are on holiday in Spain for another two weeks.”
“Not running? How do people haul their stuff around if they don’t have a boat?”
“You really don’t know much about Lyng?r,” Mia said with a curious tilt of her head.
“Fill me in—please!” Ella felt a little silly for not researching Lyng?r before arriving.
Mia began ringing up the pile of groceries before her. “Translated, Lyng?r means ‘Isles of Heather.’ It consists of four islands. Fewer than a hundred people live here year-round. Everyone owns at least one boat, so the water taxi is mostly for the tourists—we get hundreds of them.”
Ella nodded with interest. Pity there wasn’t a taxi service right now, not just to ferry her groceries home, but also to get her to G?sholmen to see if she could find out anything about her mother.
Even though Mia was too young to have known Sara personally, Ella felt like she was on a roll, so she took a chance.
She dug inside her purse, pulled out the picture from the broken frame, and turned it toward Mia.
“The sketch is of my mother, Sara Nilsen. It seems she was at G?sholmen with a man in July of 1962. She died when I was a baby.” How strange to think that maybe Mormor lied about my mother’s death.
“I’m so sorry to hear this,” Mia said.
“Thank you, I appreciate that. I’d like to find out anything I can about my family. Especially my mother. My grandma told me nothing.”
“Nothing at all?” Mia said.
“Nope. And she never will, since she died six months ago. I found her face down in her sardines and toast.” Ella hadn’t meant to sound glib, but with all her mixed emotions, that’s how it came out. It didn’t seem to faze Mia, who covered her mouth with her hand, suppressing laughter.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she managed to say.
Ella shrugged. “I’m fine. It is funny, in a dark sort of way.” Truth was, Ella had walked around in a daze for some time after Hilda died. She was stricken to lose her only remaining family, and compounding the loss was the realization that any memories of her mother had also died with Mormor.
Hilda had once said, “You’re just like her, and it breaks my heart, sadly enough.” But Ella would never know what that meant, because Hilda refused to say anything more.
Mia, turning over the photo, tapped her finger against the inscription date on the sketch of Ella’s mom. “I wasn’t born yet. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
“Do you have contact information for any of the tourists—the regulars? They might have stories about my family.”
“No, not really. We don’t tend to stay in touch like that.”
“So Hilda never mentioned she had a daughter?”
Mia shook her head. “Hilda and I only talked about matters relating to Ringpynten, like repairs and renter issues.”
“OK, but you must know someone who was around when my mother stayed here before I was born,” Ella persisted.
“Well . . .” Mia chewed on her thumb. “My friend Erik would have been in his mid-twenties at that time, though I doubt he knows anything.”
“Could you introduce us?”
“Yeah, all right. But don’t get your hopes up—it’s been a long time since your family vacationed in Lyng?r.
” Mia handed back the photograph. “Good news is, G?sholmen is only a five-minute boat ride from Ringpynten. You own two boats. Hilda had them serviced every summer, but I’ll ask my friend Leif to hurry up and look at them now.
He works with Erik at Lyng?r’s boatyard and marina.
I bet he can lend you a dinghy to use for now. ”
Ella shook her head. She’d probably fall overboard and drown. She picked up the lists and sighed. “What about number five on my list? Where can I get bed linens and towels?”
“I washed Ringpynten’s linens at the end of last Fellesferie. They’re in my apartment upstairs.” Mia pointed at the rafter ceiling.
“Great. Next, I need a pay phone. I’m surprised the cottage doesn’t have a phone or even a television.” It was 1992, but it might as well have been the 1850s. Ella needed to check in with Petal to see how the renovations were going.
“There’s a pay phone here on the island, but it’s out of order. You’ll have to go to the gas station on the mainland, Gjeving. That’s a fifteen-minute boat ride. But you can use my phone whenever you like.”
“Thank you,” Ella said. “You’re a lifesaver. But I still need to figure out how to lug all my supplies back. Do you have a cart or something I can borrow?”
“Nah, just take what you need right now.” Mia motioned toward the counter. “I’ll have Leif bring the rest—it might not be until tomorrow, but I’ll send you home with a jug of water. Leif will do a great job on the boats.”
· · ·
As Ella retraced her steps on the uneven concrete path back to Ringpynten, she knocked on the doors of several shuttered cottages with Norwegian flags rippling out front.
She felt hopeful that she’d meet some locals who might give her clues about her mom and maybe even Mormor.
She wondered if she and her mom were as similar as Mormor had insisted they were.
Not a single person seemed to be at home.
Disappointment clobbered her. The houses were probably second homes or reserved for tourist rentals, and as Mia had pointed out, Ella had arrived too soon in the season. Fellesferie wasn’t for three weeks yet. Unfortunately, she couldn’t afford to stay that long.