That was when she realized what was at stake. If she didn’t fix the patisserie now, she would lose it.
Nora had her pride—but what would that be worth if she no longer had her business?
5
The cold stung Henrik’s cheeks as he waited for the landlord to let him in. He wasn’t wearing warm enough clothes for this unusually cold November evening, but the place was around the corner from his apartment, exactly as he had imagined when he dreamed of one day having his own bakery.
He had had his eye on the property for a while. Located right in the middle of the Vasastan district of Stockholm on a small street just off Odenplan, it was a stone’s throw from the subway station and the busy life of the city. It currently housed a real estate office, which was a huge waste of its potential. With its tall arched windows that let in a fantastic amount of light and its open layout, it would make an amazing bakery, with plenty of room for customers to sit and chat over a cup of coffee and a delicious cinnamon bun.
He had stopped in once on the pretext of asking the agent about an apartment, and had been blown away by the place. When it subsequently became available to rent, he took it as a sign that he had to act. The landlord had shown him around the previous week, and he’d determined that it wouldn’t cost much to convert it to a bakery. The idea was that his father, Camilla, and Tom should have taken a look earlier in the day, but only Camilla and Tom had shown up. At the last minute and with no explanation, Hasse had informed his son that he had to postpone the meeting. As usual. Hasse Eklund often did exactlywhat he wanted, and he expected the rest of the family to fall in line. However, he was coming over this evening.
Henrik thought the bakery would make an excellent addition to the family firm in which Henrik, his two siblings, and their father were all active shareholders and board members. At one point both Henrik and his father had had more executive roles within the company, and before that Hasse had worked hard to expand the business, and their bread and pastries could now be found in virtually every food outlet in Sweden. Then he had become a popular TV baker, and worked twice as hard as before. Henrik had been the company’s production manager for many years before his own TV career took off. His sister, Camilla, acted as agent for both Henrik and his father; Tom was the only one who still worked for the firm on a daily basis, as business manager.
Although Eklunds sold mass-produced bread, Henrik had thought for a while that they ought to open a physical bakery too. That had always been his dream, and this location was perfect. He looked forward to showing it to his father so that he could visualize everything Henrik proposed to do.
The landlord appeared, a bunch of keys ready in his hand.
“Hi—I hope you haven’t had to wait for too long.”
Standing outside in the cold hadn’t exactly been pleasant, but Henrik smiled and said it was fine.
The landlord unlocked the door, and they went inside.
“I thought I’d leave you to it and come back a little later if that’s okay? I just need to stop by the office.”
“No problem.” Henrik actually preferred to show his father around on his own. He should be here any second.
The landlord left, and Henrik took off his coat and draped it over one of the chairs in the sparsely furnished reception area. He wandered around, picturing how the bakery would look. Tiled walls, rustic oak shelves stacked with loaves of bread and rolls, wooden chairs with upholstered seats in muted colors, comfortable sofas and round tables for larger groups, large potted plants, modern art on the walls. Hewanted something tasteful but livelier than the industrial-chic trend that had been in vogue for a few years now.
He sat down and opened his laptop to review the numbers one more time. Where the hell was his dad? They were running out of time. Tomorrow was the first day of recording for the Christmas special, and Henrik had to go home and pick up his suitcase before catching the night train to Västervik.
He called his father, but the call was rejected. Then a text message came through:Sorry—running late. I’ll be there in half an hour.
Half an hour? He glanced at his watch. Shit, there was no way he’d make his train, which meant he’d be late for tomorrow’s recording. Well, it couldn’t be helped. He had to show his father the property and present his proposal tonight; the landlord wasn’t willing to wait another week.
Some people might think the dream of opening a bakery was silly, but Henrik wanted to get back to the essence of baking, not just running a bread production company and being a TV personality. His most cherished childhood memories were the hours he had spent baking with his grandfather during summer vacations at his grandparents’ lakeside country home. He’d kneaded and proofed dough. And made cinnamon buns. And made batter and baked cakes. His love for baking came from his grandfather. Everyone thought it was down to Henrik’s father, but the truth was that they had never baked together when he was a child. Hasse was too busy working or hanging out with other celebrities.
His grandfather had often talked about the café the family had run alongside the bakery when he was younger, when the family firm was a smaller enterprise, and Grandfather himself helped out in the bakery. There was a kind of romantic nostalgia in his tales of cycling to work before dawn, preparing the first dough as the sun rose, and ending the day serving customers in the village café. When the family’s large-scale production operation had grown, the family had chosen to focus entirely on that. They kept the bakery, but sold the café in Almtorp in Bergslagen where everything had begun, which meant that Grandfathermoved farther away from the essence of it all, as he put it. And that was what Henrik longed for, more and more: the essence of it all. Henrik thought a bakery with a café reminiscent of the one his grandfather used to run would give the company a little more heart. It would also enable him to meet the people who bought his bread and to bake real bread in his own oven. Bread that would be eaten by customers and not just by a production team after the cameras had stopped filming. He would do more than simply sit in endless meetings about improving the marketing and maximizing the sales of factory-produced bread.
Eklunds’ strong brand name would give the bakery an enormous advantage, but he was a little nervous. Given the family’s reputation, he couldn’t open an ordinary café or bakery—people would expect something special. At the same time, he didn’t want anything too grandiose; he thought he’d landed on a concept that was just right. Camilla and Tom had been enthusiastic, which left only his father.
He flicked through his business plan, which had all the numbers that his mother and her boyfriend, Vanja, had already reviewed. Vanja was a high-ranking bank director, and his mother now worked for an investment bank. In other words, he had been given two expert opinions. They both thought his calculations were sound, the business plan was solid, and the location was perfect. Henrik couldn’t think of anything that would make his father say no. However, Hasse was always the one who came up with suggestions within the family firm, and usually everyone agreed with him. That was how it had worked so far. Hasse had taken the company to where it was today; it was thanks to him that the expansion during the eighties and nineties had happened so fast, which was why he thought he had the monopoly on running Eklunds—everyone simply had to go along with whatever he wanted to do. And now for once Henrik had been working on an idea that hadn’t come from Hasse, which could be seen as an attempt to undermine his father and his role—Henrik was well aware of the implications. That was why his planning had been so meticulous—he wanted to be sure that Hasse couldn’t say no.
The door opened and his father swept in, a faint smile visible behind the graying beard. His glasses immediately steamed up; he took them off, rubbed them quickly on the lapel of his coat, put them back on, and patted Henrik on the shoulder. “Okay, what’s so important? Let’s hear it.”
His cheerful demeanor gave Henrik hope. Maybe he’d misjudged his father?
Henrik made them both a coffee from the agency’s machine, and then they sat down and Henrik handed over the business plan. He explained his vision while his father perused the document.
“So I’m thinking that the bakery will be our hub, a meeting place for the family and a flagship for Eklunds,” Henrik said in conclusion.
“A flagship for Eklunds? What do you think Almtorp is?” Hasse stared at Henrik. Almtorp was the small town in Bergslagen where the head office had always been located.
“Of course. But it’s not a place where our customers can go, it’s just an office. It would be easier for us to meet up here. We could try out new recipes, talk to customers, maybe even run classes or training courses.”
Hasse nodded slowly while Henrik was talking—which was encouraging. Had he been worrying for no reason?
Hasse finished his coffee and slowly put down the cup, but deliberately remained silent for a few seconds. “To be perfectly honest, this feels like we’re going back fifty years in the company’s development.”
