He laughed. ‘Double date. I’ll bring Lotta.’ Because now he had her number he had so much hope that she might be part of his life, the fact she was leaving the country tomorrow didn’t matter at all. Tonight he’d been given a second chance, and he was going to grab it with both hands.
6
It had been a long day. That morning Lotta had taken the bus to the Folk Museum for a meeting she’d set up with their Communications Officer to see if they’d be open to a collaboration before she went any further. She felt there was a lot of scope if she worked with them on the project since the museum was a true reflection of Norway’s history, told through buildings and who’d lived in them, as well as other artefacts like furniture and clothing.
After the meeting with Elin, her spirits and enthusiasm for her idea had taken a dive. It was the downside of working alone; there was no one to bat ideas off, and no one to turn to if you needed a morale boost, or reassurance you were heading in the right direction. So when Amelie not only thought Lotta’s campaign was exciting, but then took her around the museum showing her artefacts and details on the buildings that she thought had an interesting story behind them, it gave Lotta the confidence to carry on.
Back at the hotel, she’d emailed Clemmie to update her on the visit so far, glossing over the negativity of Elin and concentrating on the positives, and within a minute of pressing send, Clemmie was calling her.
‘Talk to me about the meeting with Elin,’ she said, straight to the point.
Lotta struggled to conjure the right words to convey what had happened without throwing Elin under the bus andsummarised the meeting without saying what Elin had actually been like.
‘Lotta, seriously, tell me. Whatever it is. You don’t owe her anything.’
She sighed. That was true, and Elin could have been smarter about how she’d handled the meeting if she thought she was being spied on. ‘I don’t think they work with any makers. The couple they have are Norwegian but not necessarily local, and they’re mass-produced rather than handmade. My impression is that there’s no one they can suggest for us to approach.’
‘Which is why you haven’t been able to recommend anyone in your email.’
‘Yes, but it can still work. There’s no reason why their introduction to being stocked in Snug Oslo can’t be through this collaboration. If we choose the right person, it could bring in more artists and makers to fill the void and bring the Oslo store into alignment with the others as far as that side of things is concerned.’
‘Your contract isn’t in danger because of this. This store was supposed to be the blueprint and it will be, just not with the help of the store manager this time. You’re absolutely right to think of another way to make it work and I’m happy to go along with that. Don’t have any further contact with the store for now.’
‘Okay,’ said Lotta, relieved that perhaps there wasn’t a hidden agenda after all. It really was a wider campaign and not just about dealing with the issues they suspected there were with Elin. ‘I’ll finish up here tomorrow and see you in a couple of weeks once I’ve pulled a proper proposal together.’
‘That sounds perfect. Thank you for getting us to this point. I’ll respond to your email with an overview of what we’ve discussed so that you have approval in writing to start speaking to makers on our behalf.’
‘Thank you.’
Lotta ended the call and sighed, flopping backwards onto the bed. She was pleased not to have to go through Elin anymore because she wasn’t going to give the project the boost she should have been able to by identifying the perfect maker. But it meant there was an extra element to sort out: actually finding artists and makers who would be up for the challenge.
Determined not to be derailed by Elin, Lotta researched influencers based in Oslo that she found on Instagram. It would have been easier to start with a maker that already worked with Snug so that she could see who was championing them on social media and go from there, but since she didn’t have that option yet, she spent a lot of time down an Instagram rabbit hole.
By the time she’d made a list of people to contact, it was dark and she was exhausted. She pulled her hair into a bun and googled somewhere nearby that she could get a relatively healthy takeout. She’d eaten pizza the past two nights and was craving something fresh that featured vegetables other than tomatoes. The best place had various kinds of street food and it all looked good. She could decide when she got there, and it looked like the kind of place you could eat at alone without feeling too self-conscious if she changed her mind.
She walked down the hill along Karl Johans Gate towards the station, across Anne-Cath. Vestlys plass and onto Dronning Eufemias Gate where the trams ran down the tree-lined centre of the street. Barcode Street Food wasn’t far along there, and she found it easily, slipping inside and then looking for a quiet place to sit while she looked at the menu.
To her right was a room where no one was sitting, with dim lighting and patio tables and chairs, and to her left was a booth made from a 1950s American car where a couple were enjoying a meal together. The man was facing into the room, and it took her a moment to realise that it was Mats. She darted into the room opposite and sat down so that she was out of sight whilestill being able to see him. The woman with her back to Lotta had long dark hair pulled into a slick ponytail, and she was wearing an oversized sweater that fell off her left shoulder in a way that looked effortless but was probably intentional. She was leaning in as she listened to Mats, occasionally sitting up straighter and gesticulating with a chip in her hand. They looked as if they were enjoying each other’s company, and clearly that was why he’d never asked for her number.
Backtracking on her intention to peruse the stalls for her dinner, she chose a ramen from the app and sat back to wait for a text to tell her it was ready to collect. She couldn’t stop looking at Mats. Today he was devastating in a suit. It was dark blue, and even though he was sitting down, she could see it was cut to perfection just by the way it fitted across his shoulders. And he was clean-shaven with his fair hair swept back from his face. He looked so smart, so sexy that Lotta felt her knees go weak even though she was sitting down.
Her phone buzzed, and she drew her eyes away from him. It wasn’t meant to be. She needed to collect her ramen and leave all thoughts of him behind when she left Norway. Luckily, there were other exits from the room without having to walk out the way she came in, which Mats would almost certainly notice. She collected her food and headed outside on the opposite side of the building from where she had come in.
‘Lotta!’
For a split second she thought about ignoring him, pretending it wasn’t her, but she wanted to see him again. She’d wanted to see him since the moment he’d left the airport, and watching him from afar for the past ten minutes hadn’t been enough.
‘Mats.’
He had a wide smile that made his eyes shine, and his entire face lit up. It was nice that he had a girlfriend he felt that way about.
‘How are you?’ He raised his eyebrows, making her feel as if he really wanted to know.
‘I’m okay, thanks.’
‘I… I should have asked for your number the other day. I don’t know why I didn’t.’
The reason seemed fairly obvious. ‘Are you asking me for it now?’
