“Yes,” Olof said bluntly, his eyes twinkling. “Haven’t seen a man glow like that since I saw myself in the mirror the day I met your mother.”
“And ten days later, you were married,” Emil said, smiling at the familiar line.
“So we were. It might’ve taken you longer than ten days, but I suspect she was worth the wait.”
She was. And after everything they’d been through together, Emil had no intention of ever letting her go.
“I’m going to propose. Soon.”
His father raised a brow. “I didn’t say that to pressure you?—”
Emil shook his head. “It’s not that. I’ve finally figured out what matters. That includes Olive and her family.”
“All of them?” Olof moved behind the desk and opened a drawer.
“Yes, all of them. Including ten-year-old Robbie, who, by the way, is in our kitchen eating all of Mor’s cookies,” Emil said dryly. Olof chuckled, nodding as he continued to rummage. “You haven’t met Olive’s mother yet. Anna. She’s gentle and kind, like Olive. But she isn’t well.”
That stopped Olof’s search. He straightened, brows drawing together. “How so?”
Emil quickly explained Anna’s inability to leave the apartment, the landlord’s threats, Robbie’s day at the masonry, and the financial strain it put on Olive. The fury that lit his father’s face was instant, but for once, Emil knew it wasn’t directed at him. It was for Olive and her family, as if they were already his own.
“They’ll move into the floating house at once,” Olof said firmly.
“I can’t ask you to do that?—”
“You didn’t ask. I gave.”
Emil’s voice caught. “Thank you. I’ll tell them when I take Robbie home. They may hesitate?—”
“Then don’t give them an option. I know how persistent you can be.”
The words, which so easily could be a complaint, were spoken with pride. Warmth rose in Emil’s chest. His father had finally seen him. He nodded, at a loss for words.
“Aha. Here it is.”
Emil leaned forward. “What is it?”
“The deed to the floating house.”
“No, absolutely not. Mor would kill?—”
“I’m not giving you her house, you numbskull.” Olof chuckled. “I’d be skewered with hot toothpicks until I was nothing but Swiss cheese.”
Emil chuckled sheepishly. “Of course.”
Olof spread the deed across the desk and pointed to a line farther down the page. Emil scanned it, not yet understanding. “I didn’t know our property extended to the other side of the boardwalk. That empty lot is ours?”
His father nodded. “That’s where we’ll build your house.”
“Far,” he said weakly, undone by the magnitude of his father’s generosity.
“We won’t be in your hair. Your mother and I will stay in Ballard most of the year, at least until we get the business back on track and I can retire.”
Emil was silent, possibilities rushing in with increasing optimism.
“You’ll oversee the construction from our house, and when it’s finished, Olive can invite me over for a piano concert.”
“She’ll say yes. She adores you.”
