“Why did you go into a burning building?” he asked her. “You went to get the sourdough starter, didn’t you?”
She nodded slowly. “Stupid idea.”
“And did you get it?”
“I dropped it when I ran to you, so I think it’s charcoal now.” She gave a weary smile. She hadn’t even thought about it until that moment. Her entire focus had been on Henrik, and nothing was more important.
Epilogue
The day before Christmas Eve
Henrik hurried into the living room with a tray of steaming mulled wine, freshly made Christmas butterscotch, and a plate of gingerbread cookies.Theirgingerbread cookies.
It would soon be time for the last episode of theLet’s Get BakingChristmas special. The editors had worked day and night to meet Henrik’s demands; the premiere had even been pushed back a week so they could finish, and the result was fantastic. The show was a success. Apparently viewers didn’t want panic attacks and manipulated emotions. They wanted to see several cups of joyful Christmas baking, a spoonful of small talk, and a pinch of romance. The ratings for the first show were good, and they’d just kept going up.
He put down the tray and looked at Nora. “There’s something I want to show you before we watch it.”
She smiled. “Sounds exciting.”
He disappeared and she glanced out the window. The snow that had fallen had melted away. But the warm glow of the town’s Christmas lights and the Advent candle bridges in the windows, plus the fairy lights on her own tree, set the perfect mood.
The apartment hadn’t suffered any damage, but the patisserie had been destroyed. The firefighters had managed to extinguish the flames before they spread any farther, but the smoke damage throughout wasso severe that everything had to be ripped out and the whole place deep cleaned.
After all her struggles to save it, the destruction of the patisserie felt ironic. But maybe this was exactly what she needed to make it her own. It would be a fresh start, and she could do exactly as she wished. She wanted to keep the same new decor in the café, but the bakery had needed freshening up for years. And now there would be a new ventilation system, even if it was too late.
Henrik had remained in Västervik after the fire and hadn’t left.
Tomorrow, on Christmas Eve, they would all go to Bea’s sister’s house. Bea’s grandmother was curious about Henrik, and Nora was sure they would get along famously. She had finally met someone she could take with her—proving that Bea’s husband wasn’t the only good man around.
On Christmas Day she and Henrik would head up to Stockholm to celebrate with his mother and Vanja. Nora was a little nervous, but she looked forward to meeting them. Henrik hadn’t spoken to his father since the press launch, but his brother and sister would stop by at some point during the day.
Henrik reappeared carrying a small box. He put it down on the coffee table and took out a glass jar. It looked like a sourdough starter. He handed her the jar.
“Oh, have you made me a new starter? That’s ... That’s very kind of you.”
He probably hadn’t grasped the significance of her starter; he was looking so expectant that she didn’t have the heart to explain that this wasn’t the same as the one she had lost.
But then he shook his head. “Let me explain. My paternal grandfather, Nils, fell in love with a widow who came to Bergslagen from Finland with two small children. The boy’s name was Matias and the girl’s name was Ritva.”
Nora inhaled sharply.
“The woman’s name was Tuula, and she brought with her a sourdough starter that her mother had given to her in Finland. My grandfather’s parents didn’t like the fact that he was seeing a Finnish widow, and his father wanted him to marry Birgit, who was my grandmother. Tuula and Nils didn’t get to stay together, and the only thing she left behind when she moved away was this sourdough starter.”
Nora’s eyes filled with tears; could this really be true?
“I took it over when my grandfather died. I knew how much it had meant to him, and I’ve kept it alive ever since. And baked with it.”
Nora opened the jar, breathed in the smell, and with it all the old memories. It smelled exactly like her starter.
“When you told me about your great-grandmother who came here from Rovaniemi in Finland with two small children, it rang a bell. And when you told me her name, I was pretty sure, but I just had to double-check a couple of things to be absolutely certain.”
He dug around in the box. “And I wanted to show you this.” He produced a white sign with TUULA’STASTYBREADin ornate blue writing.
She took it from him, tears running down her cheeks.
“I’ve been teasing you about your old recipes, but actually I have one too.” He held out a piece of paper, and Nora recognized her great-grandmother’s handwriting from the recipe book she had inherited. She laughed, then let out a sob.
“I’ve got the go-ahead to open the bakery in Stockholm; everything is in place. I’ve got the paperwork from the landlord, and I thought we could sell the sourdough bread together. We’ll share the story of my grandfather and your great-grandmother, and bake the bread using this recipe ...”
