Fru Riber had a strict rule that she didn’t feed those who missed dinner. At least she always had a loaf of bread in the kitchen.
Henrik climbed the stairs to the common area. Fru Riber would have retreated to her quarters, far from the chatter of the boarders.
In the living room, four students sat at the round table playing cards, and Else sat on a sofa by the stove.
She stood and smiled at him. “There you are, Hemming. I kept a plate for you.”
He stopped halfway to the kitchen. “You did?”
Else breezed past him into the dining room. “I figured you must have had to work late.”
Henrik followed her into the kitchen, his jaw dangling.
Else opened the oven door. “I reminded Fru Riber you aren’t an inconsiderate student, and she’d already prepared the food. Why waste it? She let me save a plate for you.”
Henrik had many things to say, watching her bustle around. For him. But all he could say was “Tak.”
A pretty shade of pink colored her cheeks as she passed him carrying a plate brimming with cod and potatoes. “She also served parsnips, but I’ve noticed you never take them.”
He hated parsnips. She’d noticed? “Tak.”
Else set the plate at Henrik’s place, rounded the table, and stood behind the chair across from his. “I can stay if you’d like company. Or...”
Henrik gripped the chairback, and his mouth opened to tell her he didn’t mind eating alone. But he did mind. He motioned to her chair.
She took her seat, beaming as if he’d given her a gift, not the other way around.
He reminded himself to sit like an oaf not a gentleman. Something about Else always made him forget tonotuse his manners.
Henrik bowed his head, silently said grace, then went to work on the cod.
Else wore a dark blue blouse with white dots, professional but feminine. “Thank you for letting me stay. Laila’s sleeping off amigraine—a headache. She needs dark and quiet, so I’m down here alone.”
Henrik glanced through the door into the living room, where the students roared in laughter over their card game. He smiled at Else. “Yes. Alone.”
“How was work?” she asked. “Are you building a ship?”
He had to smile. “Yes.”
She turned her head to the side and laughed, a charming sound. The week before, he’d opened the door to this tentative friendship. He ought to slam it shut against the dangers of openness and attraction.
How could he with those blue eyes dancing in amusement?
Else leaned forward, her face bright. “Tomorrow’s the day.”
“Day?”
“I’m going to yelp.”
At Mortensen. “Good.” He took a bite of creamed potatoes, fragrant with rosemary and nutmeg.
“I’ve decided what to say, and I practiced with Laila. Mortensen’s secretary will come with me. She has things to say too.”
Courage was contagious. He rearranged the words into Hemming’s vocabulary. “You are brave. Now she is brave.”
“Do you think so?” Her eyes darted back and forth as if pondering, and her mouth curved into a teasing smile. “I haven’t talked to him yet.”
“You will.” He spoke with conviction.
