Chapter 22 #3
“Are you sure?” Ella pointed at the photograph. “See the bluebells, puffins, and oyster catchers embroidered around the blanket trim? That’s not something you see every day.”
“Yeah, but this was taken in 1962. I wasn’t born yet.” Mia handed back the photo.
“I know. But I’m still hoping for answers.”
Mia promised to let Ella know if she learned anything.
In the meantime, she offered to introduce Ella to others who might be able to help.
Mia led her toward the bonfire that was still unlit.
They stopped in front of a man and a woman in their late twenties who held hands as they sat on a couch with tattered armrests.
Mia introduced them as the hotel owner’s son, Harald, and the baker’s daughter, Frida, and they exchanged the usual pleasantries.
Leif walked up and slid his arm around Ella’s shoulder. “There you are,” he said, pulling her close. “Join me while I cook?”
“I’d love to, but first I’d like to show them the photograph.” Ella slipped her arm around his waist as Mia excused herself.
Ella handed the picture to Harald. “I found this in my cottage. Do you happen to know anything about this picture, or the history of Ringpynten?”
As he studied the image, he scrunched his bushy blond eyebrows together. “I’ve only known that place as a rental. Afraid I can’t help you.”
“Flip over the photo,” Leif suggested.
Harald looked at the sketch on the back and read aloud the accompanying words.
For Sara: G?sholmen with my sweetheart. July 1962.
He shrugged. “Sorry, I have no clue. My parents and I lived in Stockholm until the eighties, when my dad bought the hotel. The staff are all our age, so I doubt you’d have luck there.
Plus it’s dead quiet until Fellesferie. Have you spoken to the older adults? ”
“I guess a few, but none of them knew much. Or maybe they didn’t want to talk about it. Who else might know?” Ella asked.
“Beats me,” the baker’s daughter said, as her gaze roamed the crowd. “This group isn’t from that generation; no one here is old enough to remember anything from 1962. Maybe you could talk to the elderly in town. They love to reminisce and always have a good tale or two.”
Her boyfriend chimed in. “Oh yeah, they still talk about that local girl who fell though the ice about twenty years ago—and the other one, who drowned in a kiddie pool.”
Inger, out of breath, asked no one in particular, “Has anyone seen Erik? He promised to bring gasoline for the bonfire.”
“Erik and Oskar left,” Harald said. Ella looked at Leif, who shrugged.
“Left? How could they?” Inger fumed.
“Don’t worry,” said Frida. “I have extra gasoline on my boat.”
Inger and the couple set off to grab the gasoline. Leif asked Ella, “Are you OK? You looked disappointed.”
“Yeah . . . it’s just . . . well, it’s a bummer that I can’t ask Erik questions tonight. Wherever I look, I keep meeting dead ends. I won’t let it keep me from having a good time with you tonight, though.”
“Good. Because spending time with you is always a treat.” He kissed the top of her head. “And don’t worry about Erik. It’s too noisy and crazy here to talk anyway. Better if we meet him at the boatyard. Want to keep me company while I fire up the grill?”
“OK, I guess that works.” Ella had arrived eight days ago and could probably stay a little longer.
She was relying on Petal for so many things already, but she was sure that she wouldn’t mind meeting the electrician or finishing some of the embroidery work on the line of blouses.
Ella felt that it was important to stick around long enough to put Mormor to rest and to keep searching for information about Sara.
Ella turned her attention to taking photographs. She framed Leif and his broad shoulders balancing the grill grate over the stones encircling his campfire. “What’s for dinner?” she asked.
He grabbed a foil packet from the cooler. Uncrimping the foil, he held out the packet for her to see. She cringed inwardly at the fish but put on a smile.
“Looks delicious. Did you happen to bring any of your tasty beef stew?”
“I know you think you don’t like cod, but you haven’t tasted mine. I brought hot dogs and salad too.”
As she tucked her camera in its case, a familiar-looking woman with long, straight caramel-colored hair sidled up to Leif. She gave him a warm hug and planted kisses on his cheek, leaving traces of peach lipstick.
The Viking supermodel ex-girlfriend had returned.
Charlotte. Tight skinny jeans showed off her shapely, mile-long legs.
The top buttons on her blouse were undone and flaunted her cleavage, which was cradled in a frilly push-up bra.
Ella touched the scarf wrapped around her neck and the long, flowy dress that hid her curves.
She and Charlotte were nothing alike. She wondered what Leif saw in her if Charlotte was his type.
Charlotte gave Leif a dazzling smile and kissed his cheek again. “Cook some for me, will you? I didn’t bring any food; I’ve been too busy at work. What a day! But I’m here now, so all’s good.”
Leif rubbed his jaw in an embarrassed way. The color of his ears matched Ella’s fuchsia tights.
“Ella Nilsen,” Ella said firmly, and offered her hand to Charlotte.
“Charlotte.” She shook Ella’s hand. “I know who you are. You inherited Ringpynten.” She searched her bag for a moment, then came up with her business card. “I’m a real estate agent. If you decide to sell the place, I’m the woman for the job.”
Ella accepted the card while giving Charlotte a level stare. “Thank you, but I’m already working with someone.”
“Well, I’m the best agent on the entire southern coast.” With that dazzling smile still plastered in place, Charlotte patted Leif’s arm. “Tell her.”
“Ha! Keep me out of this.” He snatched a stick from the ground and poked it beneath the campfire grate, his broad back to the two women.
“Come on, don’t be silly,” Charlotte prodded. Leif stood to face her.
“Ella is perfectly capable of making up her own mind. Let’s just leave it at that,” he said bluntly.
“Fair enough,” Charlotte said with a nod. “Just know that I’ll earn you top dollar.”
“Oh? What would you put as the asking price?” Ella said.
“Well, I’d need to run the figures. But I can tell you this much: Your cottage is considered luxury real estate. I’m guessing it’ll sell for megabucks.”
“That would be life-changing,” Ella said. It was almost too good to be true, but Mia had also suggested that Ringpynten was worth a lot of money. With that, Ella could pay off the mortgage on Little Bird and hire a couple of seamstresses and store associates. Then all she’d need was customers.
“Yep, it’s a super attractive property,” Charlotte said with a laugh.
“In my opinion, Lyng?r is Norway’s French riviera.
Both are stunning—and come with status. I specialize in high-end real estate.
In my experience, there are plenty of people who enjoy showing the world that they’ve made it and can afford such luxuries. ”
Ella nodded as though she understood, but Mormor certainly didn’t seem to fall into that category.
Her grandma barely made ends meet in Boulder, and for a while she and Ella survived on food stamps.
Mormor had hesitated when Ella needed braces, for heaven’s sake—that didn’t sound like someone who had “made it” or was accustomed to luxury.
Ella wondered again why Mormor hadn’t sold Ringpynten to give them a more comfortable life in Colorado.
“Listen, call me,” Charlotte persisted. “We’ll set up an appointment to see the property and go over the paperwork.”
“Thanks, but like I said, I already have an agent.”
“Well, if a contract hasn’t been signed then we can fix it! I better find Inger, to wish her a happy birthday.”
Turning to Leif as she prepared to walk away, she rubbed his bicep and then pulled a fifth of vodka and an orange juice carton from her designer bag. “Don’t forget my dinner. I’m starving. Oh, and I brought this for us—drink up.”
He cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his head. It didn’t take a genius to see that he was uncomfortable. “I can’t. Charlotte, I meant to tell you.”
“What?” Charlotte said.
Leif looked pointedly at the two wine glasses and the uncorked bottle of merlot that he’d set on the flat rock near his cooler. The raspberry stain on one of the glasses matched Ella’s lips. Charlotte’s smile faded. She pinched her nose.
“Uff, I’ve been way out of the loop, haven’t I?” She set the orange juice on the ground, cracked the vodka seal, and took a pull from the bottle. “Leif. You should have told me at the bistro the other day.” She sounded confused and looked like she’d been slapped hard in the face.
“We’ll talk later, OK?” he said with a dismissive edge.
“Whatever,” Charlotte said before stalking off with the vodka.
“You didn’t have to be rude to her,” Ella chided.
“And I wish you would’ve let me know that we’d both be here tonight.
” Ella valued transparency. Plus, she felt sorry for Charlotte, whose eyes were two deep pools of hurt.
It was obvious that she didn’t know about Ella and thought she’d be with Leif tonight.
Ella wondered how she managed to feel both sympathetic to and threatened by Charlotte, at the same time.
“Yes, I should’ve. But why do you care about Charlotte? You’re leaving soon. And it’s not like you’ll come back.” He grabbed the tray from the cooler with such force that the foil packets fell to the ground. “Dammit. Now dinner’s ruined.”
“It’s hardly ruined. Neither is your friendship with Charlotte. It’ll be fine.”