“Just a quick visit, I didn’t have a chance to give anyone a heads-up. Do you have time for dinner tomorrow?”
“Sure.” Henrik swallowed hard. Was that when Don was going to drop the bombshell about the ratings? What if he said that TV24 intended to cancel the show?
“Great, I’ve already booked a table. Guldkant, seven o’clock.” Don looked at Elnaz and Ted. “Could we have a few minutes in private? You too, Henrik.”
They went into the bakery, and Don leaned against one of the tables with his arms folded.
“So I’ve seen the first clips from this week’s filming.” He sighed heavily, then took off his hat. “It’s the most boring crap I’ve ever seen. We’ve talked about feelings. You’ve got a gold mine out there with her—she’s an emotional person, you can see it from a mile off. Create situations that give her an outlet for those emotions.”
Elnaz’s expression was skeptical, but she didn’t raise any objections. Henrik kept quiet, too, even though this didn’t feel right. Of course he wanted to make good TV, but he still thought it was wrong to go beyond factually criticizing the patisserie. The idea of provoking feelings and reactions as Don was suggesting was another matter altogether.
“I’ve checked the schedule; we can let you have a few more days of filming. This will give you a chance to fix things.”
They returned to the café. It was time for the team to interview some of the customers. Ted and the camera operator went over to a table where the man and woman from the first day were sitting. He was the one who’d said he had a tab, and that Nora allowed him to pay when he could afford it. Don sat down at a table nearby, picking the spot with the best view. Henrik noticed that Elnaz was looking kind of anxious while Ted gave nothing away—but then he was always like that. Always kind of switched off. Maybe that was how he survived in an industry where genuine feelings were hard currency.
Nora marched toward Ted and her customers.
“I think they want to film in peace,” Henrik said as she passed him.
“I just want to hear what they’re saying.”
Henrik followed her, and they both stopped behind the camera. Ingemar was dressed entirely in beige, while Maggan was his polar opposite: a leopard-print coat, lips painted a bright pink that clashed with her vibrant red hair.
“Tell us what you think about Nymans,” Ted instructed them. Nora was listening attentively.
“I think everything is delicious,” Ingemar said.
“The bread’s too hard,” Maggan announced. “Nora does certain things very well, the croissants are very good, for example. But some of the bread is kind of tasteless.” She glanced apologetically at Nora. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. And some of the cookies I’ve bought have been stale.”
Henrik had to stop himself from giving Nora a triumphant look. He could feel the tension radiating from her body. She smelled amazing; he’d thought the same when he was whispering in her ear that evening in the hotel restaurant. As if she had just stepped out of the shower, mixed with a subtle scent of lavender. She smelled even better than freshly baked bread.
“The rolls are good, the price is good,” Ingemar piped up again. “But the coffee can be ... a little bitter sometimes,” he added hesitantly. Unlike Maggan he didn’t look at Nora, but kept his eyes fixed on the table.
“The coffee?” Nora exclaimed. “Why haven’t you said anything?”
“I’m sorry, but should she really be here when you’re talking to the customers?” Henrik said.
“Because I ...,” Ingemar stammered. “Because you’re so kind to me, and I didn’t want to complain.” He still managed to avoid looking at Nora.
“No, she shouldn’t be here,” Ted agreed wearily, rubbing his eyes. “Nora, can you please go and take a break somewhere else?”
Nora sighed loudly and stomped off into the bakery.
When they had finished filming, the camera team followed her. Nora ignored them as she peered into the oven, then lifted out a tray.
“We thought Henrik could go through the bread now. What you bake and how,” Ted said, glancing over at the table where the production assistant had laid out a selection of loaves on red-and-white-checked kitchen towels.
“Bread is a specialty of mine, so you might find it interesting,” Henrik said.
Filming began, and Henrik noticed a rich smell coming from a tray Nora that had just taken out of the oven. Ignoring Ted’s instructions and the script, he went over to check out the thin square of crispbread, baked to a perfect golden brown.
“What’s this?”
“Sourdough crispbread.”
He broke off a piece, tasted it. “This is delicious.” For a moment he forgot all about the show and Don’s demands—this was special. Discovering something unique in a patisserie was always delightful, and he was going to savor this moment.
It was the best crispbread he had ever eaten. But he couldn’t come straight out and tell her that—she would be unbearable.
