With trembling hands, Nora fetched the broom and started to sweep the floor, and then she began to prep for the next day. Without feeling, without thinking, she moved from one task to the next, anything to avoid plunging into an abyss of fear and anxiety. She mixed dough while listening for the doorbell and new customers. When they arrived, she went and served them. At six thirty she locked the door, swept the floor, and wiped down all the benches and work surfaces. She worked mechanically, eyes fixed on the cloth as she moved it back and forth across the tables.
She switched off the lights, went up to her apartment, and stepped into the shower. Only then, with the water flowing over her body, did she allow her mind to return to the conversation with the bank. She couldn’t absorb the full implications of what Göran Fredriksson hadsaid, so she focused on the TV show. She ought to cancel her drinks with Henrik tonight, contact the producer and let them know she was going to have to close the patisserie. There would be no TV show. Her body began to shake as the realization hit her. Would she really have to close?
She took a deep breath. She would speak to her accountant, review her income this month; maybe there was a solution. But she had run the numbers and knew that even if business had increased over the last week or so, she was nowhere near being able to repay 75 percent of her overdraft.
Her legs were trembling as she switched off the water, wrapped a towel around her body, padded across the cold, drafty floor, and sank down on her bed. She dried her hair with the towel.One thing at a time.She would meet Henrik tonight, tell him. Then she would call Elnaz.
While she put on her makeup—she didn’t want to look as bad as she felt—she wolfed down some leftover pasta salad. She scrutinized herself in the mirror. She looked pretty tired, and the lines Don had pointed out on her forehead were deeper than ever.
She pulled on a pair of dark-blue jeans and a white cotton shirt that she loved. She piled her hair on top of her head in a loose bun and put on an extra slick of red lipstick, as if the color might give her strength, before she put on her quilted jacket and set off to walk the short distance to Harry’s.
On the other side of Fiskartorget, the water was shimmering in the glow of the streetlamps along the quayside; its dark, rippling surface looked like liquid gold. She took a second to inhale the fresh, salty air. The endless darkness of the sea calmed the storm within her.
Henrik was already there, taking a selfie with one arm around an older woman. The woman beamed and gave him a hug, just as he spotted Nora. He nodded to her, handed back the phone, and came over. He offered his hand as Nora leaned in to hug him, so they collided and she fell against his arm. He caught her, and she smiled as he awkwardly patted her shoulder. It might have been meant as a response to herattempt at a hug, but it came across as a gesture of consolation more than anything.
“What would you like to drink?”
“A glass of red would be good, but I can go and order ...”
“No, no, let me do it. You sit down.”
She did as she was told and sat down in a leather armchair as he went to the bar. She gazed at him. Blue jeans and a cotton checked shirt. Leather boots. Well built, bearded, and a baker ... He was everything she dreamed of in a man, at least on paper. It was a shame he was such an arrogant shit.
“Hi, Nora.” A male voice interrupted her train of thought. She glanced up. The Veg Guy. Had he come to present her with all his unpaid invoices?
“Hi, how are you?” She got up and gave him a half-hearted hug.
“I’m good. I heard you’re going to be onLet’s Get Baking?”
“I am—we started filming a little while ago.”
“Fantastic.”
“Listen, I’m sorry I haven’t paid the last few invoices, but ...” She wondered what to say. She might never be able to pay. Ever. Hopefully there would be something left for her creditors when the business was wound up. Both Jonathan and his father had been good to her. “But it’s all in hand,” she said, dredging up a smile.
“No problem. Now you’re onLet’s Get Baking, business is bound to take off.”
She nodded. “Let’s hope so.”
There was a brief silence. Jonathan looked as if he was working up the nerve to say something else, but then Henrik reappeared with their wine.
“Oh, you’re here with Henrik Eklund?” Jonathan was clearly impressed. He held out his hand. “Hi there, Jonathan, I’m a big fan.”
Henrik put down the glasses and shook his hand. “Good to hear.”
“I won’t disturb you. Nice to meet you.” Jonathan cleared his throat and turned to Nora. “See you soon.”
“Another of your admirers?” Henrik said when Jonathan had gone.
She shook her head. “I wouldn’t call him an admirer.”
“It’s just the way he looked at you.”
“He wants his invoices paid. And possibly a roll in the hay. Nothing more.” Nora smiled, then realized how it sounded.
“He wants to be paid for a fuck?”
“No, that’s not what I meant ...” She laughed. “I mean he might want to sleep with me. For free. There’s nothing else between us.”
