“Nothing has been decided yet. All I know is that they’re looking around. And I’m sorry you found out that way.” Elnaz frowned. “What I don’t understand is why your dad wants to compete with you. It seems crazy—you’re part of the same company, the same family.”
Henrik shrugged. There was a great deal about his father and his behavior that was impossible to explain. “It’s fine,” was all he said.
“Ideally, the Christmas special will give the show a boost,” Elnaz said after a moment. “We need to add something new this year, something that gets people talking.” There was a sudden spark in her eyes. “Maybe people are getting tired of the same old same old? Which is why Nora Jansson is the perfect fit.”
Her tone was teasing, insinuating. She used the same tone whenever they’d finished dinner together on location—when she always suggested that he should try out what the town had to offer. And she wasn’t talking about the food, but more ... nocturnal activities.
“What do you mean?” He took a spoonful of the artichoke soup, which was delicious. Another nice thing about Västervik was the number of good restaurants. He tried the wine, a dry Riesling with the perfect blend of sweetness and acidity.
“The bakers we’ve worked with so far have been great people, with good background stories that were both entertaining and sympathetic.But a lot of them have been men.” Elnaz paused. “And the women who’ve appeared on the show were a little too old for you. Nora’s about your age. She’s attractive, and she would probably be charming if she dropped her guard a little.”
“You want me to stage a romance?” Henrik asked, even though he understood exactly what Elnaz meant. He just wanted to make her come straight out with it so that she could hear for herself what a stupid idea it was.
“A romance wouldn’t be such a bad thing, would it? I mean, it doesn’t have to be real. It just needs to be suggestive enough for the viewers to believe something is going on.”
Henrik sighed and took another sip of his wine. Then he looked at Elnaz. “And is Nora on board with this romance?”
“I haven’t said anything to her. I’m thinking it could just be something understated. You don’t have to fall in love—maybe just flirt a little, give the viewers hope.”
“I’m not sure—it doesn’t feel right.”
“Don’t worry—all you have to do is gaze at her for a few extra seconds, maybe make a nice remark after you’ve been all critical. Enemies to lovers ... We’ll take care of the rest.”
Henrik took a deep breath.
“I know what you’re thinking, Henrik, but this is exactly what we need to give the show a boost. The heartbroken celebrity baker, trying to recover after his breakup with the beautiful sommelier.”
He was taken aback. No one on the production team had ever mentioned the situation with his ex.
Henrik and Bente had fallen in love on prime-time TV when they appeared on several episodes of a morning show, marrying cakes and puddings with dessert wines and demonstrating how rustic bread with a few drops of olive oil and a pinch of sea salt could make the perfect appetizer when accompanied by a good Italian wine. Henrik’s Italian bread and Bente’s favorite Barbaresco had found their way into many Swedish homes, along with their love story. The press adored the twoof them together—but had adored their painful separation even more. When Bente cheated on him, they both became fodder for the gossip columns. The interest and speculation made him more popular than ever, andLet’s Get Baking’s ratings had actually gone up.
He knew the production team was well aware of what had happened, but no one had ever said a word about it.
He merely nodded. The main course arrived, and Elnaz started chatting with one of the camera operators. Henrik wasn’t sure what he thought about all of this; first Don’s talk about angles, and now Elnaz’s attempt to turnLet’s Get Bakinginto a dating show, which he hadn’t expected of her. He might have expected it of Ted, who was notorious for ruthlessly pushing ahead with no scruples, but he hadn’t yet witnessed any situations where the producers’ conscience and moral compass were tested. It seemed that was about to change.
The following morning, Nora could barely look Henrik in the eye when she arrived at the patisserie. He thought she deserved to be a bit embarrassed after the previous evening.
“I thought we could start with some clips about what we discussed yesterday,” Ted said when everyone had gathered. Nora was asked to go in the bakery while Ted sat down at Henrik’s table.
“Tell us what you think about the patisserie.”
“I definitely think the patisserie has potential,” Henrik began. He had to speak in full sentences for editing purposes, because the viewers wouldn’t hear the producer’s questions and instructions when the show aired. “But what I said to Nora is true. She has too many different items on offer, too many cakes and cookies, when she should be focusing on the products that have the most potential. She has too many irons in the fire but not enough good bread in the oven, so to speak.”
“Mmm ...”Ted didn’t look happy, possibly because of the awful analogy. “Does it annoy you that she’s let things get to this point?”
Henrik realized where Ted was going with his extremely leading question, and he was completely on board. “I do find it frustrating that she’s taken over such a fine, well-established business, only to let it slip through her fingers.” He raised his voice, frowned. “Not looking after such a gem really does infuriate me.”
“Excellent.” Ted nodded to the cameraman to stop filming. “Okay, let’s take a walk around.”
Henrik followed the team into the bakery, where Nora had clearly just finished her clip for the camera. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were a little shiny; presumably she had been furiously complaining about Henrik’s feedback on her bread and cakes.
Definitely genuine feelings. Exactly what the production company wanted.
Filming resumed and Henrik looked around. Everything was kind of shabby, but the appliances and ovens were of good quality, and the equipment was clean and well maintained. He continued into the cool room. In the middle of the room was a tray of loaves, and he immediately recognized the smell of sourdough. He often baked using a sourdough starter at home, and his grandfather had taught him a lot about it. His father had a complicated relationship with sourdough, which might sound surprising, but in spite of everything Hasse was both a baker and a baker’s son—he took dough seriously. Besides, he had a complicated relationship with most things.
Henrik didn’t know much about his father’s childhood, apart from the fact that he had grown up as an only child with a single mother. Strangely enough, Henrik’s paternal grandparents had separated—not a formal legal arrangement, but they lived apart, and Hasse had stayed with his mother. He never talked about it, but Henrik’s grandmother wasn’t a particularly loving person, and one of the elderly ladies who had worked at Eklunds forever had hinted that Hasse had been beaten as a child. When Henrik thought about that he felt a degree of sympathy for him, but then his father had done little to ensure that his own children had a happy childhood. Though he had never hit them, he had made noeffort to be affectionate with them. He seemed to think it was enough that he had helped his father build up a baking empire. In his world, that was worth more than any amount of love.
Henrik continued going through the produce in the cool room, starting with the bottom shelves: decent butter, milk, whipping cream, fresh vegetables, cheese, and other toppings such as liver pâté, ham, turkey, Brie, and salami, all of good quality. Nothing out of the ordinary. But then he took a closer look. The higher shelves were packed with inexplicable jars, tins, and packets. He picked up a can of condensed milk and held it out to Nora. “How often do you use this?” Then ricotta cheese. “And this? It’s nearly out of date.” He shook his head, moved on to several rock-hard tubes of pasta coloring. “You’ve got way too much stuff in here. You’re wasting money on unnecessary things.”
