He pulled open the door to his building, jogged up the stairs, and let himself into his flat, considering all the while.
The answer came to him the moment he put his briefcase down and spotted the early copy of Tandri Ebbisson’s debut novel,By the Stars at Night, sitting on his table. It would make the perfect gift for his mother—it had adventure, mystery, a dash of romance, and the sort of emphasis on family that she most loved. She was sure to enjoy it. And perhaps, after she’d read it, they could talk about it. Perhaps then he could admit to having worked with Tandri on it as his editor. That he even dared to count the reclusive author as a friend after their many letters—many of which had veered off topic and shared personal details, not just thoughts about the manuscript.
There was no guarantee it would work, of course. But itcould. Perhaps it was time to obey the very advice he gave his authors.Don’t just tell the reader what happens. Show them.
He’d been trying to tell his family for years why he’d chosen this life, why it meant so much to him. Timeand again he’d broach the subject, and time and again they’d all go away frustrated.
This year, he would show them. Show them what he did every day. Show them why it mattered. Nearly every household in Iceland, after all, had responded to the Book Bulletin at this point—that must include his family. This year, perhaps they’d finally see why it was worthwhile.
FIVE
14 DECEMBER 1944
Tatiana laughed around the bite of leaf bread she’d taken, holding a hand to her mouth to keep the mirth from resulting in any crumbs from escaping. All around her, her colleagues were laughing too as Aunt Beta finished her story of her first disastrous Christmas as Valdi’s wife, before she’d learned much by way of cookery. Tatiana had heard the story before, but that did nothing to make it less funny now.
Elea’s laugh was brighter than all the adult versions, in that way that only children could manage.She giggled from deep inside, throwing her head back with the joy of it. She’d already finished the food she’d selected from the spread that Beta and several of the editors’ wives had brought to feed the volunteers on this Thursday night, and though Tatiana had expected her niece to be either bored or impatient by this point in the day, Elea had surprised her.
She’d been working in the warehouse with Tatiana since after lunch the past two days, and she was nearly as fast as any of the other workers. In fact, after watching her for a few minutes earlier, Valdi had declared that she was working hard enough to earn some money for all her endeavors. Naturally, that had put a light in the girl’s eyes and made her redouble her efforts. “I can buy presents to send home to Mamma and Pabbi,” she’d declared in an excited whisper.
Tatiana had been all set to explain that the shops didn’t have much to boast this year, given the rationing, but she ought to have known better. Elea had apparently been eyeing up some of the books on the company’s shelves for her parents. She knew very well Valdi would have given their little helper any titles she wanted for her gift giving, but there was somethingspecial about earning them. Paying for them yourself. How could Tatiana argue with that?
There were two dozen of the Story Society’s employees ranged around the warehouse floor, some on rickety folding chairs they’d scrounged from somewhere, others on the floor with their plates. Many of them had come in early that morning, just as she had, and those who couldn’t were staying late. Some did both. Helga had been arriving early to help Tatiana on the processing and inventory management, attending to her usual duties with Elea at the small desk beside hers during the morning, then they’d both come down here after lunch. But she’d had to leave on time this evening to attend a program at her niece’s school.
Tatiana and Elea had been there thirteen hours already, much like yesterday. It was a surprising amount of fun. Someone had brought in a record player and kept Christmas music piping through the warehouse all day, which lent a festive spirit.
Valdi and Beta’s fifteen-year-old daughter, Camilla, picked her way through the picnicking employees and settled beside Tatiana and Elea with a grin. She’d come with her mother an hour ago to help with the food... and perhaps to try to convince her father to let her skipschool the next day to help at the warehouse. Which Valdi had, of course, refused.
“Did Stufur come to see you last night, Elea?” Camilla flipped her braid of rich chestnut hair over her shoulder and focused her bright blue eyes on her little cousin.
Elea had given up rolling her eyes at all the people who asked her about the Yule Lads. She simply grinned and held out her wrist, showing off the macramé bracelet of red, green, and white that Tatiana had tucked into her shoe last night. “We had to set up a chair for him by the window so he could reach.”
“Well of course you did.” Camilla gave a serious nod. “Stufur means ‘stubby,’ after all. He’s the shortest of the brothers. Did you leaveskyrout for him?”
Elea shot Tatiana a grin. “Aunt Tatta made us stop at the grocer’s and get some for him on our way home yesterday. We’d eaten the last of ours with breakfast.”
Tatiana returned the smile with no apology. “Luckily, Stufur accepted our offering of store-bought yogurt. I wasn’t so sure he would. When I was growing up on the farm, my mother always made her ownskyrand claimed it was the only kind Stufur liked.”
Elea’s smile faded a bit. “Mamma likes to make itherself too. But she hasn’t lately. She doesn’t like the kind you can buy, though, so we just haven’t had any.”
These moments pounced without warning. Tatiana never knew what might lead to them—but she’d learned to either pivot or work with them. “I can’t blame her. Our family’s recipe is far better than what we can buy. But I never have time to make it myself either anymore.” She turned her gaze to Camilla. “Does Aunt Beta make it fresh?”
Camilla had clearly also caught the sudden downturn of Elea’s lips. She laughed. “Only for special occasions. She says that it’s too much work when you don’t have your own livestock to milk, like she did growing up. Living in the city requires change, she says. Personally, I’m so used to the store-bought variety that I think homemadeskyrtastes funny.”
Elea’s eyes went wide in pure childish shock. “It’s thebest!”
“Says you.” Camilla reached over to tickle Elea’s side. Something or someone must have snagged the teenager’s attention then, because she strained up a bit, her gaze tracking something from left to right. “I didn’t realize Anders had stayed too.”
“He’s nice. He’s been letting me do my schoolworkin his office in the morning, out with Helga, and he even showed me what he has of the Volsunga saga so far.”
Camilla sent a questioning look to Tatiana. “How in the world is he making a child-friendly version of the Volsungs?”
Tatiana had to laugh at that, given that she’d wondered the same thing. The saga of that particular family was full of murder and infidelity and insatiable vengeance. But then again, so were the others that he’d successfully adapted for young readers. “The Vikings weren’t exactly a peaceful people, were they?”
Camilla snorted her agreement.
“He let me read the story about Sigurth and the dragon, Fafnir. You should see his drawings! The dragon and his hoard of gold are so beautiful!” Elea turned back to her plate and picked up the cube of cheese she’d yet to eat.
Camilla’s gaze was still off in the distance, presumably wherever Anders was. “I do find it curious that a man of such strong Christian faith chooses to tell stories about pagan Vikings that include their gods as characters.”
