Page 24

She wrapped her fingers around mine. “I mean it, Selma. Thank you. For everything. I’m… I like it here in your house.”

I swallowed. “You earn your keep. I’ll have my best holiday season yet.”

“I’m only happy to help.”

Her eyes held mine, and she was so lovely that my throat tightened with something that I was fairly certain was tears. I couldn’t name the emotion that made me want to cry other than that it wasn’t sadness. It was… no, it was that no woman had ever looked at me this way, with such earnestness. As if she saw so much more than the odd toy maker who insisted on pants and who most people liked well enough but no one truly knew.

The floor in the corridor creaked, and Alma walked in. I pulled my hand away from Lilja’s. Before Alma could rush out the door, I stood. “I’ll come with you. I need buttons and beads.”

“I’m sure we have what you need. Just dig through our drawers.”

Helena entered and Lilja set to filling a bowl for her. I thought her cheeks had colored a little—and that she made a point of not meeting my gaze now that we were no longer alone.

Karin was in my uncle’s kitchen with her hands deep in a bowl of dough. She greeted us both with a nod. She was used to Alma’s early morning returns. She never blabbered, which was a quality that, in my opinion, far outweighed her skill in a kitchen.

In my uncle’s store, I set to looking in one of the counter’s many drawers as Alma went to her room to change her dress. She was a meticulous organizer, and the buttons were arranged in compartments according to color and size. I chose three small mother-of-pearls for the closure of the dress I was making for the mayor’s daughter. Next, I looked for beads. Those were experimental. I wanted to try and set some into the wood of a horse’s head to see how lifelike it would make its expression.

Alma walked in, stuffing the last pin into her hair. There was no sign she hadn’t slept in her own bed last night. “Found what you were looking for?”

“Yes.” I placed my treasures on the counter. “How much?”

She didn’t wave me out the door like she once would have tried to. She knew by now I insisted on paying. “Twenty öre for all of it.”

I counted the coins from my pocket, handed them to her, and with the edge of my hand, I swept the buttons and beads into my palm.

“Lilja’s a bit of an odd one, isn’t she?” Alma said.

“Odd?”

“I just meant that she seems different.”

“She’s not from here.”

“She’s a stranger,” Alma said.

“So?” I slipped the buttons and beads into my pocket. “Many people are strangers until they’re not.”

“But where’s she from?”

“Up north. She told me so.”

“But how did she even get to Norstad?”

I shrugged. “I imagine she took the train.”

“Without any money?”

“She might have used what little she had on the ticket.”

Alma thrummed her fingers against the counter and narrowed her eyes. I knew her well enough to know she was considering. “Has she told you anything more about her past?” she asked.

“No, and I don’t want to pry. Whatever she’s running from, she’s scared still.”

“But you trust her with your cash registry?” There was a pointedness to Alma’s tone that I didn’t like.

“She’s given me no reason not to,” I said. “She’s not a thief. I count the coffer every night, and it’s always accurate. She does her job well. Her notes are precise and thorough. She has a remarkable memory. I have no complaints.”

Alma bit the side of her lower lip. The continued thrum of her fingers seemed very loud in the silence between us.