Henrik didn’t know what to say, but soon regained his composure. “What do you mean?”
“This was how Eklunds began, with a little café—why would we revert to that now that we have a national baking empire?”
“This isn’t a step back, it’s an extension of what we’re doing today. Something that will give Eklunds heart, a way of enabling us to connect with our customers,” Henrik persisted. “Camilla and Tom like the idea.”
Hasse still looked skeptical.
“It won’t mean more work for you—the idea is for me to run this on my own,” Henrik added.
His father let out a bark of laughter. “Seriously? You think you’re capable of running this on your own?”
Like an insufficiently proofed dough, Henrik deflated. Why had he even bothered to bring his father here? Hasse had never believed in anything Henrik did. Hasse had always made clear that he felt Henrik’s various successes had only been a result of the work Hasse himself had done to build the family business. He’d never even acknowledged his son’s success withLet’s Get Baking—or the boost in sales that Eklunds had seen thanks to that.
If Henrik couldn’t convince his father about this new opportunity, there was still another option.
“If you don’t like the idea, I assume I can present my proposal to the board and ask them to vote on it.”
Hasse stared coldly at him. Henrik had crossed a line. The question of voting always infuriated his father. Hasse had assumed that he would inherit the entire business from his father, but Henrik’s grandfather had left equal shares to his son and his three grandchildren. This meant that Hasse had no official decision-making advantage over Henrik, Camilla, or Tom. But he had unofficial, implicit power over all of them—and always had. Henrik was suggesting they might vote against Hasse, which none of the siblings had ever done. So far, any new ideas that any of them had brought up had been vaguely discussed until Hasse crushed them. Henrik was determined not to give up this time. He knew this was a good plan, and he refused to let it go.
“Feel free to suggest a vote,” his father said, still staring at him. “But I will not hesitate to remind everyone about the Coffeepot.”
Henrik didn’t say a word. The Coffeepot was a failed project that Henrik had set up on his own—a small hole-in-the-wall street café that catered to stressed inner-city workers. It hadn’t been the success he had hoped for. He preferred to forget the whole thing, but his father enjoyed reminding him of this proof of his lack of business acumen.
Hasse got to his feet, put on his coat, and headed for the door. “By the way, I have something I’d like to discuss at the next board meeting. I was going to wait to tell you all then, but Camilla already knows, so I might as well share it with you.” There was something unpleasant about his smile, and Henrik realized that he wasn’t going to like what his father was about to say. “I’m in line for a new TV show.”
“Oh—tell me more.”
“It’s a show featuring me, with Anita as my sidekick.” Hasse had met Anita when he was given the honor of making a dessert for the Nobel banquet. He had worked with the legendary gourmand Anita Roslund. A romance had sparked somewhere between the fresh cloudberries and chocolate Florentines, and before long they were a couple. They had now been married for fifteen years, and she somehow managed to put up with him, even though her own career had gone downhill ever since she met him. She had set aside her own projects and ambitions to support him—just as Henrik’s mother had done, until one day she decided she had had enough.
“The idea is that I will go through the ingredients listed on the most common baked goods on the supermarket shelves, and look at exactly what’s in them. Then I will make a product, a genuine product, under the name of Eklunds.By Hasse for Eklunds.” Another unpleasant smile. “The production company has already given it the green light.”
“That’s great—congratulations,” Henrik said, and he meant it. His father’s career as a celebrity baker had stalled somewhat. He had judged a few baking competitions, and he had published a new cookbook a couple of years ago that had sold reasonably well. This new show might be good for the company.
“Thank you. It’s going to get the prime-time slot next fall.”
Fall? But that was whenLet’s Get Bakingcame out. Was there really room for more than one baking show in the autumn schedule?
“I hope the Christmas special gets good viewer ratings this year,” Hasse added.
“Let’s Get Bakingalways gets good ratings.”
“Mm—I suppose it depends how you definegood. I heard that TV24 is unhappy with the numbers this year, and that it’s down to the Christmas special to save your beloved show.” There was no mistaking the malice in Hasse’s eyes.
Henrik was taken aback. What was he talking about? Where had he heard that? Henrik knew the numbers, and they were the same as they had been in previous years.
“Your show is starting to become a dated concept; they want something new and fresh, which was why I pitchedBy Hasse for Eklunds.” He laughed. “Don’t you understand why they’ve brought in Don as the executive producer for your show? They’re trying to revamp it as a kind of docusoap. The final attempt to save it.” Hasse sighed, then smiled again. “They want my show to go on at eight o’clock on Wednesday evenings,” he informed Henrik with an apologetic look that was far from sincere.
“ButLet’s Get Bakingis on at eight o’clock on Wednesdays,” Henrik said.
His father shrugged. “That’s what they suggested.”
Henrik didn’t say a word. He simply wondered what had turned his father into the type of person who was deliberately nasty to his own son.
Hasse glanced around. “Nice place, by the way.”
The door closed behind him, leaving Henrik standing in the middle of the room.
6
