Bea sipped her tea and opened another box. “Speaking of Christmas, we’re going to my sister’s place this year.”
“Are you sure it’s okay if I come along?” Nora had asked the same question every year since her mother died, and Bea always said yes. She still had to ask, though, and there it was again, that persistent gratitude.She was afraid of coming across as ungrateful if she didn’t ask and simply took it for granted.
Bea looked at her. “Don’t be silly—you’re as much a part of our Christmas celebrations as Donald Duck on TV.”
Nora smiled and hoped it was true. Maybe it was, but it didn’t stop her feeling like a fifth wheel.
Bea handed Nora a box. “Could that be a contributing factor to yesterday’s panic attack?”
“What do you mean?”
“The theme for the show—Christmas. And the fact that Christmas is getting closer,” Bea said as she tried to untangle a string of fairy lights.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about—you know I love Christmas.” Nora cut a piece of Brie and put it on some crispbread, then popped the whole lot in her mouth.
Bea’s expression was skeptical. “I know you love theideaof Christmas, but not necessarily the day itself.” She picked away at a stubborn knot.
“The idea of Christmas? You mean the birth of Jesus? That’s the idea of Christmas, isn’t it?”
“Stop it—you know exactly what I mean.” Bea opened a box filled with tinsel and garlands and passed it to Nora. “I should never have applied for you to take part in the Christmas special.”
“Yes, you should have. And despite what you think, I have absolutely no problem with Christmas.”
It had always been her favorite holiday. She and her parents made their own gingerbread cookie dough, chocolate cookies, and other specialties. They also made their own candy—marzipan, mint kisses, chocolate truffles, and more. Her parents baked gingerbread cookies day and night since Nymans was known for having the best in town. They decorated the entire café. They set out angel chimes, and placed Advent candleholders in the windows. A huge Advent star hung in the window by the door, and bags of gingerbread cookies were on display to tempt customers inside.
On the second Sunday of Advent, they held a gingerbread house competition and attended a Christmas buffet at the beautiful Gränsö castle. On the third Sunday, they drank mulled wine and bought their Christmas trees: one for the patisserie and one for the apartment. In the evening they made marzipan pigs, which they dipped in chocolate.
They celebrated Christmas Eve as traditionally as possible, with ham and all the trimmings, and Donald Duck on TV.
That last Christmas had been pure agony. Her mother had been in palliative care for a couple of months and moved into hospice shortly before Christmas. Nora couldn’t do much to re-create any of their Christmas traditions, but she took samples of all the goodies she baked nonetheless. She couldn’t take the Christmas tree to the hospice, so it was standing in Nora’s rented apartment, scrawny and bare, when she got home hours after her mother had passed away.
These days she did most of the Christmas preparations herself, although she usually invited the girls over one evening in the last week before Advent. They would celebrate with mulled wine and put up the last of the decorations in the patisserie. She would have to invite them over a little earlier this year. Everything was going to be different.
Since her mother’s death, she hadn’t felt the same sense of anticipation before Christmas; instead, she became increasingly anxious as the holiday approached. Maybe Bea was right—she loved theideaof Christmas. She loved the lights and candles brightening the winter darkness, the music, the glitter, the mulled wine, the sense of togetherness. But the pain of her mother’s death was a constant presence, and of course she became increasingly aware that she lacked a family of her own.
Nora looked at her friend. “I love Christmas,” she said firmly.
17
Nora’s panic attack had shocked Henrik. He thought he had acted appropriately under the circumstances; he knew that Elnaz was going to talk to Nora and offer counseling, but maybe he ought to do something else as well. In the end he sent a text message. Should he apologize?
When they were filming without Nora the following day, Ted insisted that Henrik do a piece for the camera about what had happened, as if they planned to include Nora’s panic attack in the show. Henrik naturally questioned this, but Ted reassured him that they would show only the conversation beforehand, not the attack itself.
Henrik was still ashamed of himself for going along with it. He talked about how Nora drove herself too hard because she had no boundaries. “And,” he had said in conclusion, “if someone is in such a fragile mental state, then maybe they shouldn’t be running their own business.”
How could he have said that? Surely he had gone too far? But Ted had been pleased, and in the end it was all about making Don and TV24 happy. What the hell was happening to Henrik’s show if they were putting the participants in situations that provoked panic attacks? Don had been across the room when Nora collapsed, and Henrik had seen his expression. He had looked shocked, but also delighted in a bloodthirsty way, like someone watching a gladiator fight.
On their way back to the hotel that evening, Elnaz took him aside.
“Did you think what happened yesterday was okay?”
Henrik gazed out across the inlet. He could just make out the circular jetty that was apparently known as Myntbryggan. The sun had gone down, leaving behind pink streaks across the sky and casting a golden glow across the surface of the water. A thin mist was rising in the chilly air.
He turned to Elnaz. “What do you think?”
She didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I thought you were going to try flirting with Nora? You do realize Don is going to want to highlight the hysterical-woman angle with manipulated emotions, if you don’t give him anything else?”
“So pretending to flirt with her isn’t manipulating her emotions?” Henrik pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his sheepskin jacket.
