“It’s not about pretending or manipulating, it’s just being a little flirtatious with an attractive woman—that’s not such a terrible thing, is it?”
Nora was attractive, he couldn’t deny that. He had gazed at those incredibly long legs more than once, and then there were those alarmingly blue eyes that constantly threw murderous looks at him. He shook his head. “Surely that’s irrelevant? Ted just asked me to talk about Nora’s reaction yesterday. What do you want me to do? Ted gives me one set of instructions, then you come along and say something different. Then there’s the fact that Nora is furious all the time. I have no idea how I’m supposed to flirt with her convincingly.”
Elnaz shook her head. She sighed, a distant look in her eyes as if she were thinking. “Maybe the two of you ought to meet up on your own; it might make the vibe between you a little more relaxed. Ask her out for a glass of wine; try to build some bridges.”
“I’m not sure a glass of wine will help when my very existence infuriates her. She seems to think it’smyfault that she’s run her place into the ground.”
“That’s exactly the kind of thing you mustn’t say. I know how Ted thinks, but we’ve got a lot of footage of you being supercritical—I’m afraid the viewers will begin to have a negative impression ofyouif wecarry on like this. Everyone loves Henrik Eklund, and I’d prefer that it stay that way. A little romance would make you more human; they don’t want to see that superior being anymore.” They had reached the hotel, and the last rays of sun had been swallowed up by the dark-blue twilight.
Elnaz had a point, of course.
“Invite her out for a glass of wine tomorrow evening and talk about something else. Just try to get her to like you a little bit so that we can get on with filming. Okay?”
In order to clear his head before dinner with Don, Henrik took a walk through town. He stopped outside the bookstore and decided to go inside. It was a light, airy space, with bookshelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling. Henrik’s latest book was a bestseller. Thanks to his TV success over the past few years, sales had been excellent. Then again, success might be fleeting—he was nervous about meeting Don.
He wandered over to the cookbook section. He couldn’t see his father’s latest work, but the classicHome Baking with Hassewas there. It had been reprinted several times, with a new edition published last year. Henrik picked up a copy, leafed through the pages. He stopped on a picture of his father and thought of how he’d outright rejected his proposal for a café. The book really was a classic, containing recipes and photographs of bread, cakes, and Danish pastries. There were also a few pictures of his father in the big rustic kitchen at the mansion.
The recipe for Eklunds’ cinnamon buns was one of the first in the book. The buns were their pride and joy, and they were the key to the company’s original success.
It had all begun with Great-Grandfather, who had started his own bakery, which then grew. Henrik’s grandfather had gone into the business as soon as he left school, and the two of them had expanded the bakery, delivering bread and buns all over Västmanland, Uppland, andDalarna. By the end of the 1970s the firm had grown so much that Eklunds’ cinnamon buns were the most popular store-bought bun. Thanks to the technique of baking at a high temperature and then immediately freezing them, they seemed as if they were freshly made when customers bought them at the store.
The love of baking had been passed down to Henrik’s father, then to Henrik and Tom. Even though they had so much in common, there had always been quarrels and rifts within the family. Hasse thought his children should earn their place in the firm, because that was what he had had to do. He had created a public profile, made a name for himself, and the expansion of mass-produced loaves and cinnamon buns had proceeded at warp speed when Hasse took over. He thought his children had had everything served up on a silver platter. He had assumed that he would eventually have sole control of the business, given that he was an only child. When Grandfather split everything equally between Hasse, Henrik, Tom, and Camilla, the shaky relationships within the family had reached an unprecedented level of difficulty.
Henrik had always gotten along better with his grandfather, who adored his grandchildren. On one occasion when Henrik was a teenager and his father had made some disparaging remark to Henrik over dinner at the summer cottage in Bergslagen, in front of the whole family—Hasse’s specialty was making condescending comments when everyone was listening—Grandfather had taken Henrik on a fishing trip. In the little skiff on the quiet waters of the lake, with only eight hundred mosquitoes for company, he had confided in Henrik that he and his father had also had their difficulties. The conflicts between them had escalated, and by the time Great-Grandfather died, the two of them were only colleagues rather than father and son. They discussed business, nothing else. They never saw each other outside of work. Henrik didn’t know what those conflicts were about, and it didn’t matter; he had understood that he didn’t have to be friends with his father, that it was okay for a family relationship to be poor. And now it felt as if everything he hadfought for, all his dreams, was slipping through his fingers because of his father.
Henrik had spoken to the landlord, who told him that there was another interested party coming to look at the place in a couple of weeks. The board meeting would be taking place around the same time, so Henrik still had a chance of securing the lease unless the other party was superquick.
“It’s Henrik Eklund, isn’t it?”
A voice interrupted Henrik’s train of thought, and he turned to see the bookstore owner smiling at him.
“It is.” He held out his hand.
“Malin—I just wanted to say hello. I heard you were in town.”
“That’s right—I’ve been here for a few days now.”
“Your book is very popular. I love the apple cake, my kids are crazy for it. I make it all the time.”
Henrik smiled. “I’m glad you like it—it’s always good to hear that.” It was true—he was always pleased when people appreciated his recipes.
“I wonder if you’d be interested in taking part in an author’s event here? We run them from time to time, and they’re very well attended.”
He considered for a moment. He wasn’t sure he had time; filming days were busy, and he was traveling back to Stockholm soon to recordChristmas with the Eklunds. But he enjoyed meeting his viewers and readers, and maybe the production team would be interested in including it as part of the show?
“Of course I understand if it’s not possible, but I thought it was worth asking,” Malin said.
Something about her cheerful demeanor and warm smile made it hard to refuse.
“Why not? It sounds great—would you mind if we filmed it for the TV show?”
“That would be fun! We could make it a mulled wine evening—we could buy some snacks and treats from Nymans too. Maybe you could bake your delicious gingerbread cookies?”
“I’d love to.”
“We usually hold our author events on Wednesdays—would that work for you?”
“Let me double-check the schedule with the production team—I’ll ask them to contact you.”
