Chapter 9
In the cottage bedroom, Ella leafed through her mom’s sketchbook for the dozenth time.
Sara’s wildflower patterns could have been drawn by Ella’s own hand.
Then she gazed at the portrait Mormor painted, wondering if that day at Frogner Park had really happened, or if it was imagined and painted after Sara died.
Ella’s heart wrung in pain each time she looked at the painting.
It took her down the road of what might’ve been.
She wondered if she’d ever sat on her mom’s lap, or on Mormor’s, in this room.
Finding remnants of her mother had put a fire in her belly to find out how she lived—and how she died.
And Ella was starting to see her Mormor in a new light.
She had never let anyone close, not even Ella.
She wondered now if Mormor had never healed after her daughter’s death .
. . maybe her heart had stayed raw, pained, and bitter.
Ella felt sad for Mormor, to have lived with that loss all those years.
Ella turned over the photograph and read the inscription again: G?sholmen with my sweetheart.
Who wrote this? Did Sara love him, or was he a summer fling?
G?sholmen obviously meant something special to her mom, and Ella felt that if she went there, she would feel closer to her. It was time to row the dinghy.
· · ·
Now Ella’s bottom ached from sitting on the dinghy bench for what seemed like forever, and still she hesitated to untie the line.
Wavelets struck the hull and rocked the boat from side to side.
She fought the urge to climb back on the dock.
As she cinched the straps on her life vest, Mormor’s warnings about the dangers of water gnawed at her.
She had forbidden Ella to Rollerblade on the trail that snaked along Boulder Creek because Ella might skid off the path, fall into the water, and drown.
Ella looked at the waves as if searching for answers. Just beyond Ringpynten, a wooden sailboat went by. Two couples lounged on board, everyone wearing smiles and sailing jackets but no life vests. They looked relaxed. They belonged to Lyng?r.
But she belonged here on these islands too, she told herself.
And yet she couldn’t relax on the water, could she?
She tried to gather the courage to pick up the oars.
Her heart scampered at the thought of untying the boat and crossing the open sea to G?sholmen.
She wasn’t ready for that adventure yet, she thought with a shudder.
Today she’d try out the oars and travel along the safety of the shore in the direction of the ferry slip where she’d landed a few days earlier.
She told herself that the dinghy would be as easy to handle as the rowing machine at the Boulder YMCA.
She tugged the line free and, before she could change her mind, grabbed the oars awkwardly.
She plopped the blades clumsily into the water and pulled them back in such a way that they barely skimmed the surface.
She loosened her grip and adjusted her fingers, carving the blades into the water over and over again, concentrating on each stroke before she finally figured out how to guide the dinghy into the peaceful channel.
As she powered the dinghy steadily forward, her adrenaline cartwheeled and sweat beaded on her brow, yet she couldn’t help but smile.
She was doing absolutely fine. In fact, rowing seemed to come naturally to her, as if she’d been in boats all her life.
Maybe she had salt water running through her veins like her Viking ancestors.
Fifteen minutes later, she reached the tip of Lyng?rsida, the island that held Ringpynten and the grocery.
Glorious purple heather, which she’d always found so calming, shrouded the point.
She remembered Mia saying that the name of this island referred to all that heather.
Perhaps she could scatter Mormor’s ashes in a field of flowers.
Or maybe it was better to take her to a local church; Mormor had always attended Sunday services in Boulder.
A trawler plowed through the channel, and her dinghy tipped from side to side on the waves.
She clutched the oars. Luckily Lyng?rsida lay just off to her right.
Under control again, her pulse slowed as she marveled at the maritime homes with cheerful wildflower gardens and fruit trees, and the way the sunlight bathed the stone docks in a warm golden light.
“Ella!” Mia was on the dock in front of the grocery store, and she motioned to Ella to come to shore. Rowing to the store meant traveling farther from Ringpynten. But she’d come this far, so she couldn’t let her fear win, especially not in front of local folk.
· · ·
At the Lyng?r Grocery dock, Ella settled the oars into the dinghy and clutched one of the bumper tires anchored to the pier.
Mia was chatting with a woman who had a cigarillo tucked between her strawberry-stained lips while fueling her boat at the gas pump.
Mia turned to Ella. “This is my friend Inger.”
“Nice to meet you.” Ella smiled up at Inger from the dinghy.
“Great to meet you too,” Inger said, giving Ella the once-over with the most striking wolf eyes.
They reminded Ella of White Fang, the dog in her favorite children’s book.
She grinned at Ella. “Do you think I could practice my English with you? I want to impress Axel, my boyfriend. He’s taking me to London for our two-year anniversary at the end of the summer.
” Then she flapped her hands at Mia. “Go on—hurry up and grab the list and tell Erik to get out here.”
“He’ll whistle when he’s ready to pay,” Mia said. “We have two hours before the Vinmonopolet closes.” She turned to Ella. “That’s the government store in town that sells liquor, and we need to get some for our annual summer party. Would you like me to grab you anything? You can pay me back later.”
“No thanks. It’s kind of you to offer, though. Some renters forgot their scotch at my cottage, and I’m drinking that. It’s one of the best whiskeys I’ve ever tasted.”
As Ella spoke, the sea air rustled the petals on the hydrangeas near the store’s picket fence.
Those same bushes grew on Ringpynten’s property, and the thought reminded her of something from one of her to-do lists.
“Mia, I need to hire someone to mow the grass and take down the mesh and wire fencing around the garden beds before the property hits the market. I want to make it as attractive as possible to potential buyers.”
Mia opened her mouth to answer, and Ella couldn’t help but notice that she quickly closed it when Inger shot her a stern look. Mia raked at her spiky hair as pink splotches erupted on Inger’s neck. Inger scratched at them, and Ella was reminded that Mormor broke out in hives whenever she was upset.
“What?” Ella asked with concern.
Inger tapped her cigarillo ash and Ella noticed the inky stains on Inger’s fingers. They were the color of the homemade wine Mia had sold Ella two days earlier.
Inger spoke up. “I’m the one who’s been gardening at Ringpynten.
My property is shady and there’s no dirt or grass, just rocks everywhere.
” She hesitated, then took several quick puffs on her cigarillo.
She blew a smoke ring and continued, “Mia gave me permission to work the land at your cottage if I didn’t pester the renters.
Do you think it might be OK if I keep gardening there this summer? ”
“Well, let me think about it.” Ella smiled politely at Inger, but she seriously doubted she’d give her the green light to keep growing things at Ringpynten.
The mesh and wire around the beds were an eyesore.
She didn’t want to disappoint Inger, but she knew what she was there for, and it wasn’t to make friends, she told herself.
“OK. I understand,” Inger said flatly, but something else flickered in her wolfish eyes.
For a brief and uncomfortable moment no one spoke. Ella tried to guide the conversation toward a less-controversial topic.
“Inger, would you happen to know anything about my relatives at Ringpynten? Or do you happen to know someone who might’ve spent time with my mom, Sara?”
“No. She wasn’t local, so no,” Inger scoffed.
As a rule, Ella gave people a second chance, so she ignored her. She turned to Mia and asked, “Did you happen to talk to your cousin about my cottage?”
Mia nodded. “She confirmed what I told you, that the market is extremely slow right now, and expensive summer homes aren’t exactly selling quickly.
She’s vacationing in Oslo, but she knows people there who are super keen on buying a cottage in Lyng?r.
She promised to call me back after she spoke with them.
Meanwhile, I could send over a photographer to take pictures of Ringpynten for advertisement. ”
“Thank you for checking with your cousin; I appreciate it. But no need to send over a photographer—I’ve already taken some pictures of the property.”
“Fantastic! If you give me the film, I can get it developed for you. There’s a place in Tvedestrand, near the real estate office where my cousin works.”
Inger cut in. “How much commission are you getting for this, Mia?”
“Very funny, Inger.”
“Inger, I love your rhubarb wine,” Ella said. “I’d like to buy a couple more bottles.” She knew she was sucking up, a habit she’d learned in childhood. Mormor hadn’t been overly generous with her compliments, so Ella looked for approval from other people.
“I don’t usually sell to vacationers. I kind of like to keep it local, you know.”
“There’s still bottles in the shop,” Mia said. Inger made a face at her.
“That’s great! Reserve a bottle for me, will you? I’ve tried some of your gooseberry jam too—delicious! And it inspired me to sketch out a purse with a seed pattern. When I get back home, I’m going to buy a fabric in that exact reddish-pink color and make the bag.”
“A handbag with seeds? You are a funny one,” Inger laughed while assessing Ella again with her sharp gaze. “You should come to the Lyng?r summer party tomorrow night. Show us how you party in Colorado.”
Mia raised her eyebrows at Inger. Ella was surprised too.
“I’ll think about it,” Ella said. “I’m not really into big parties though.
” She found large gatherings to be hard work—coming up with a good opening line, shouting over the music, all the chaos.
Fitting in with the crowd was challenging enough in Colorado.
It would likely be even harder to mesh with people here.
Inger nudged Mia. “Go see what Erik’s problem is. Tell him to hurry, or we won’t make it on time.”
“Calm down,” Mia replied, and then she turned to Ella. “I hope you’ll join us tomorrow.”
“Thanks, I’ll try.” On second thought, a local event might be a good way to get the information she wanted. “Mia, you mentioned the other day that Erik is around my mother’s age. Is he going to the party?”
“Yes, but don’t expect much; he’s not exactly chatty. And he’s been in a really grouchy mood,” she said, chewing on her thumb.
Ella gestured toward the store. “Well, maybe now is as good a time as any, then.” She reached for her mooring line.
She’d never tied up a boat before, and it showed.
Fumbling with the line, she fastened it to the iron cleat drilled into the dock.
When she was through, her knot had bunny ears, like the laces on her boots. Mia looked confused. Inger snickered.
Mia offered, “That’s not right. Let me show you how.”
Inger cut in. “Erik’s coming.” A man with age spots freckling his face exited the front door, strode past them, and boarded his wooden cabin cruiser. He threw off the lines quickly, started the engine, and revved it.
“Hey! What’s with you?” Inger shouted at him.
“Something came up. Go without me!” Erik yelled before backing away from the dock.
“Well, obviously he’s not paying his bill today,” Mia said. “He looks really bent out of shape. I wonder what’s wrong.”
“Forget it. Let’s go,” Inger said and blew a stream of cigarillo smoke at Ella. “Goodbye. The party is at six tomorrow. Hope to see you there.” She linked her arm through Mia’s, and they walked to her boat.
“Wait. Where’s the party?” Ella called after them.
“Sand?ya. It’s an island,” Inger called over her shoulder. “Look at a map.”
“OK.” Ella was nervous, but she had to go. The party could be an opportunity to get more information about her mom.