He said good night, and as Nora was locking up her bike, she reflected on what had just happened. She was going to have a glass of wine with Henrik Eklund. For some reason the prospect didn’t seem quite as bad as it would have a few days ago. Maybe it wouldn’t be completely unbearable.
18
1945
Nils was sitting opposite his father, and between them, on Father’s enormous desk, lay a warm, fresh loaf of Tuula’s rye bread. The crown of one of the tall willows outside the window cast flickering shadows across the surface every time the wind took hold of the lush green foliage. The branches scraped the glass, and the sunlight filtered down through the leaves, brightening the dark decor of the office. The rich aroma of Tuula’s bread filled the air. His father picked up the slice Nils had cut for him. Tuula had baked the loaf only a little while ago, and Nils had wrapped it in a kitchen towel so that it would be as fresh as possible when he served it to his father. He had cycled to the family firm’s head office with it tucked beneath his arm, steering with one hand. The office was on the village’s main street, not far from the bakery. The butter melted as he spread it on the slice.
His father took a bite, then closed his eyes. Took another bite, swallowed, looked up at Nils. “I’ve always thought that Finnish rye bread tastes like it’s been made from tree bark, but this ...” He paused for another bite. “This is delicious. It would go perfectly with herring, or a mature cheese.” He shook his head, taken aback by how good it was. “And you said it was baked by the Finnish woman who’s just started in packing?”
Nils nodded. “If we decide to sell the bread, I thought I could promote her to baker. Back home she worked in a small hotel, where she baked a lot.”
His father frowned, clasped his hands together, and leaned back in his chair. “I definitely think we should add it to our offering, but can we really promote someone at this point? A woman? And a Finn?”
“It doesn’t feel right to take her recipe and bake the bread if she’s not involved. Plus she’s the one who has the skill.”
His father cleared his throat. Cut another slice and buttered it. “I don’t believe women belong in bakeries, and as for Finns ...” He shook his head slowly. “You know what they say about the Finns here in the village. Malmsten down at the sawmill, he’s had all kinds of trouble with them. They drink and fight, and the police have been called out several times to the places where they live. They show up drunk to work; it’s a serious issue.”
Nils straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath. “I do know what people say about the Finns here, but I’ve heard plenty of other stories, too, so I think there might have been a certain amount of exaggeration.”
“Oh? So you’re saying I’m exaggerating?” His father looked indignant—he wasn’t used to Nils contradicting him.
“No, not thatyou’reexaggerating, but the people you’ve spoken to. This woman is incredibly conscientious, just like the friend who recommended her. And I know the foreman at the mine—they’ve got some very hardworking Finnish men there, so some of what you’ve heard is clearly not true. Anyway, I can’t sell this bread if I don’t promote her. That would mean stealing the recipe from her.”
“My son.” His father leaned across the desk. “In business it is sometimes necessary to steal. And a Finnish woman isn’t in a position to fight back, so you’re risking nothing.”
His father was wrong there—Nils was risking a great deal. He had no intention of treating Tuula that way. He shook his head. “No. I’mnot going to bake that bread, and I’m not going to ask her for the recipe unless she becomes a baker with us.”
His father gazed at him in silence for a few seconds. “So there will be no Finnish rye bread unless she’s promoted. Have I understood you correctly?”
Nils took a deep breath. He wasn’t used to setting himself against his father. They often discussed his suggestions, but Father always had the final word. “You have.”
Father sighed. “Well ... People have started to talk about the end of the war. Demand will rise, and we’ll have to increase our production, which means we’ll need a couple more bakers. I still don’t think women belong in a bakery in that capacity, but ... okay.”
“Thank you, Father. I really appreciate it.” Nils got to his feet. “I’d better get back to the bakery.”
“I’m keeping this.” Father grabbed hold of the loaf.
“You do that.” Nils smiled and headed for the door, feeling excited. He couldn’t wait to give Tuula the good news.
“Before you go . . .”
Nils stopped, then turned around.
“This idea of frozen food looks as if it might become a reality. I’ve heard from my contacts that there are plans to start selling frozen berries and vegetables. And I’m all for it—so I’m going to need that permission from the local council. Just imagine, a huge freezer room!”
Nils shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other while his father was talking, and then came the inevitable question. “Have you asked Birgit out?”
He shook his head.
Father sighed again. “I don’t want to force you into anything, but can you please explain why not? She’s a nice girl from a good family. And she’s ... very attractive, as far as I can see. Can’t you just invite her out for dinner?”
Nils had already tried his father’s patience sufficiently, and didn’t want to discuss the matter any further, but he couldn’t simply give in. “I ... I’ll think about it.”
Father nodded slowly, but as Nils closed the door behind him, he saw that his father was shaking his head.
He didn’t want to have dinner with Birgit; he didn’t want to spend any time with her. They had nothing in common. And someone else was filling his thoughts. He wanted to be with her right now, tell her the big news.
He got on his bike and pedaled through the village as fast as he could. He heard a cry of delight from an open window, and wobbled alarmingly. Another whoop of joy, then a cheer, and within seconds everyone seemed to be laughing and shouting. Someone ran out into the street, quickly followed by others.
