Page 7 of Entwined in Norway

‘Can I ask how you got here?’

‘I kayaked.’ Kind of an odd question.

‘No one’s ever done that before,’ she said, grinning. Her face transformed into something altogether more beautiful. ‘Guests usually use the shuttle boat service, so I wasn’t expecting anyone until later.’

‘Oh, right.’ It made sense now. She really hadn’t thought he was a guest. ‘I like making my own way if I can.’

Her smile was infectious, and despite himself, he smiled back at her, mesmerised by the way her blue eyes were sparkling at him.

‘And your name sounds Norwegian, so I wasn’t expecting an American.’

‘Canadian,’ he corrected, digging his passport out of his trouser pocket.

‘Sorry.’ She looked appalled at her error.

‘It’s okay. Happens all the time.’

‘It’s hard to tell the difference.’

That was annoying. Understandable, but annoying. But again, a nicer side of him prevailed, and he smiled, wanting to reassure her, and changed the subject to stop her from overthinking it.

‘I had a Norwegian great-grandfather. That’s why I’m here, to do some family research.’ It was the most he’d spoken to anyone since he’d been here, and it was nice to have an actual conversation. Especially with her. He guessed she was around the same age as him.

‘I know Emilie told you the room is small.’ Her eyes ran up and down him. ‘But for someone your size, it is going to be tight.’

‘I’m sure it’s a step up from a bunk in a hostel.’

She laughed. ‘It definitely is. But since you’re staying a week, we can move you if a better room comes up.’

‘Okay, thanks.’ He really didn’t care about the room, but if it made her feel better…

‘You’re on the third floor. Room 308.’ She handed him the keycard. ‘I’m sorry I don’t have anyone who can take your luggage for you.’

‘I can manage fine,’ he said. Although the third floor wasn’t ideal, taking the stairs was exactly what his physiotherapist would encourage to get himself going again after a couple of days of relative inactivity.

‘Well, if you need anything, please let me know. My name’s Ida.’

Ida.

‘Thank you, Ida.’ He did a weird salute with the keycard as he backed away. What was that about? As he headed to the foot of the stairs, he looked into one of the rooms that led off the hallway. It was a lounge room with large windows that looked out over the woodland and sofas that looked like they might swallow you whole. He climbed the stairs, seeing the view change from the windows above the front of the hotel. On the first floor, there were just trees. The second floor gave him a glimpse of the mountains he had kayaked past, and by the time he got to the third floor, he could see the fjord. It was spectacular.

His room was right in the corner of the roof, and Ida had been right to be sceptical. He laughed out loud when he saw the shower. He’d have to sit on the floor to get any water over his head. He sat on the edge of the bed and took his boots off, sighing with pleasure when his feet hit the sumptuous carpet. Then he lay back on the bed, which, for a single, was a good size and very comfortable. It was perfect. Just for a moment, he closed his eyes.

The next thing he knew, it was two hours later. His immediate reaction was one of annoyance with himself, but then, what else would he have been doing? He could give himself a break. This holiday was as much about re-energising himself after a tough year as it was about discovering his great-grandfather’s legacy.

He stood up and stretched, laughing again when his hands touched the ceiling. He pulled his boots on and went in search of some food.

This place was like no hotel he’d ever stayed in. There was no one at the reception desk to ask about the arrangements for food. Erik could hear voices coming from the room on the opposite side of the hallway to the lounge, so he headed in that direction. The dining room had a more intimate feel than the lounge or the rest of the hotel that he’d seen. It was decorated in a similar way, but the clever use of gauzy curtains and large pot plants had created nooks for tables of two around the edge of the room, leaving the centre for one or two larger tables. Erik guessed that most people coming here would be couples, so it made sense.

‘Table for you, sir?’ A smiling younger man came over to him and handed him a menu.

‘Yes, thank you. You’re still serving lunch?’

‘We serve all day.’

His table was next to one of the large windows that looked over the woodland toward the jetty where he’d arrived this morning, although it wasn’t possible to see through the trees.

Erik chose a lunch of sandwiches. There didn’t seem like much of a choice from the menu which was mostly a list of drinks, but his server, Pål, explained that anything he chose would be good, and that what they offered depended on what supplies the kitchen had to hand on any given day.