“Okay. Let’s take a short break,” Ted said.
Don cleared his throat. “Henrik, do you have a minute?”
“Of course.” Henrik followed him to the very far end of the baking room by the dishwasher.
Don turned around. “She’s a feisty one—we like that. And there’s definitely chemistry between you. She’s going to make great TV. I want Elnaz and Ted to try out a few different angles, but based on the little I’ve seen, I think this is going to be very good.”
The feedback was positive, and Henrik really hoped he was right. And yet something felt ... off. And that business with the T-shirt ... What did Don have in mind for the show?
“What do you mean exactly by ‘try out different angles’? In the past we’ve picked up on a storyline and built on it, like if a participant was sick and struggling to cope.”
“Yes, and of course that’s worked. But I think we can boost the show’s ratings by exploiting what Nora’s got, drawing out genuine emotions.” He raised a hand, demonstrating the heights he expected the show to reach.
Henrik wasn’t completely convinced, but he had to trust Don, who was the executive producer. He was the one who was backing the show, the one who knew what worked in people’s living rooms.
“Sounds good. But anything like that business with the T-shirt or showing breasts is out of the question,” Henrik said firmly.
Don laughed. “I never said anything about showing breasts, I just thought the T-shirt didn’t look quite right.” Henrik didn’t answer. “Oh, come on—it was kind of cool, don’t you think?”
Henrik stared at him. “Not particularly.”
“Come on, relax.” Don shook his head, turned, and headed back to the café.
“Ready to get back to it?” Ted said. “I thought Henrik could go through the rest of the baked goods you have on display.”
“Why? So that he can patronize me for selling something as old-fashioned as Danish pastries?” Nora folded her arms. “I haven’tjumped on the trend for raw raspberry pies made of beans and sprinkled with quinoa.”
Henrik sighed. “Have you had anything to eat?”
Nora frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You seem out of sorts.”
“Okay, okay.” Elnaz raised her hands in an attempt to shut them up. “I have a lovely surprise for you!” Her voice was exaggeratedly cheerful. “I’m going to ask the production assistant to book a table somewhere nice this evening. I’m assuming you’re free, Henrik, but how about you, Nora? To celebrate the start of filming.” She beamed at Nora, who looked as if Elnaz had just suggested meeting up to share an insect buffet.
“I’m busy.” No hesitation. “I’m ... babysitting. My friend is a police officer, and she works shifts.”
That was fine by Henrik. He had no desire to spend his evening with Nora.
10
Slottsholmen was deserted, and the sea appeared as no more than a dark silhouette in the distance. Across the water the lights of the town sparkled, with Saint Gertrude’s church lit up like a stately crown jewel. Nora was strolling over to the hotel, where she was due to meet Tess and several friends. She took out her earbuds—she was listening to one of her favorite political podcasts—and listened to the sound of the wind whipping across the waters of Skeppsbrofjärden.
The ruin of Stegeholm castle was no more than a shadow in the distance; the town’s music festival took place there every year. Västervik was completely different in the summer: sunny, with offshore breezes that smelled of seaweed, burning sunsets, and a horizon that stretched for miles.
A few months ago, she and Bea and her other friends from high school had cycled down to the castle ruin with a picnic basket and blankets. It was the only fun thing Nora had done all summer, given that it was the patisserie’s busy season. But that evening had been magical, with the sound of guitars and beautiful voices, the evening sun on her face, a beer in her hand, and easygoing conversation. If there was one thing that could make her relax, it was the company of her friends. They did their best to be there for her—especially Bea—which included making their families, friends, and acquaintances shop at Nymans instead of some soulless coffee shop chain.
When Tess had suggested meeting up at Slottsholmen this evening, Nora had jumped at the chance to see her gang. A glass of wine with friends was exactly what she needed. After a quick shower, she had changed into black jeans and a white silk blouse, with big hoop earrings. She had blow-dried her hair, put on some mascara and a slick of red lipstick. She felt like a new person.
A gust of wind tugged at her scarf. She pushed her hands deep in her pockets and lowered her head against the weather as she ran the last few yards to the hotel entrance.
She walked into the warm lobby and made her way to the restaurant. The loud laughter made it easy to locate her friends. They were over in the corner, their table already crowded with plates and glasses of wine. Nora had had some leftover soup back at home. She hadn’t eaten out in ages, as she simply couldn’t afford it.
She joined the group, hugged everyone, and sank down in an empty chair.
“Chablis for you.” Tess handed her a glass.
“Just what I need.” Nora took a big gulp. It was crisp and ice-cold. Tess always chose delicious wines.
