Page 8 of Entwined in Norway

‘The sandwiches will be two or three different kinds. Is there anything you don’t eat?’

‘No, I’ll eat anything.’

Pål grinned. ‘Me too.’

Without wishing to jinx himself, Erik liked the idea of being fed whatever there was. It made for a more authentic Norwegian experience. And that was long overdue after his burger and pizza meals of the past two days.

When the sandwiches arrived, Erik could see he’d made the right choice. They were all open sandwiches on a wholegrain flatbread. One had smoked salmon on top of some slices of cheese, one looked as if it were flaked fish in a tomato sauce and the final one was curls of brown-coloured cheese on top of a jammy-looking spread.

‘Eat this one last,’ Pål advised, pointing to the jam and cheese one. ‘It is almost like a dessert.’

‘Is this cheese?’

‘Yes. Brown cheese. I think you’ll enjoy it.’

It seemed unlikely. ‘Thank you.’

Erik tucked in. The flavours were delicious, especially after the past few days of airplane food, fast food and pizza. It was fresh, tasty, and left him wanting more.

‘Could I get another round of the same?’ he asked when Pål came to collect the plate. ‘And can I get a coffee, please?’

‘Sure. How was the brown cheese?’

‘Surprising.’

Pål laughed. ‘It doesn’t taste the way it looks.’

‘That’s it exactly. It looks unappetising to say the least.’

Based on his experience so far, Erik was looking forward to the week ahead. It was very easy to relax here. The staff were so jovial; it was hard to maintain the cut-down-in-his-prime demeanour that had swallowed him up over the past eight months. That had to be a good thing, although without that suit of armour, and without being a champion snowboarder anymore, he wasn’t sure what was left. The most important thing was to remember that he was here for a reason. He would give himself a break today, but then he’d start up his research.

5

After Ida had checked Erik Anderson in and he disappeared up to his room, she went into the ladies’ toilets and checked her appearance in the mirror. If he’d arrived on the shuttle boat service, she’d have been better prepared, but the fact he’d kayaked here gave him a capable air that made her go weak at the knees, and she needed to make sure she looked as good as possible for when he came back downstairs. She smoothed her hair behind her ears with her fingers and swiped on some lip balm. That would have to do. If she’d known Erik Anderson was going to be a gorgeous fair-haired Canadian around the same age as her, she’d have given more thought to her outfit that morning. She put her lip balm in her pocket and looked at her reflection. As if a hot Canadian guy like Erik Anderson was one, likely to be single, and two, likely to be interested in a woman whose hair had been dragged into a ponytail because it could have done with being straightened that morning or a woman who couldn’t even be bothered to wear mascara. She sighed and went back to the reception desk.

By the time most of the guests had eaten lunch in the dining room, Erik still hadn’t emerged. A quick check on the system told Ida his keycard was in the master room switch, so he was in his room. Checking on him already felt like an unhealthy obsession. It was time to take a break.

With no guests due for another hour, unless they arrived by kayak, Ida went on her usual walk to the far tip of the island. She did it every day to stretch her legs and because she enjoyed the solitude of that end of the island where none of the guests tended to venture. Eventually, Mats planned to rebuild an old barn that stood there, as well as making more of the beautiful shoreline and views of the snow-capped mountains beyond.

When Mats and Lotta stayed on the island in their cabin, they built a campfire here, and the remnants of the last one were still visible. Now that it was summer, they had a couple of wooden chairs from the veranda of their own small cabin they left over here, and Ida took a seat on one of them and closed her eyes, enjoying the peace, and enjoying the visions of Erik Anderson that were playing behind her eyelids.

It was slightly unnerving to be feeling like this. Was it because he was exotic compared to the men she usually met? Most of them she’d known from school, which was an instant turnoff, or they had very complicated lives because of divorce and things like that. For all she knew, Erik might have a complicated life of his own. It seemed far-fetched to imagine he had reached his thirties without some kind of baggage. Had anyone?

Hers was grief. Grief over losing her parents and grief at losing so much of herself to the process of caring for them. She didn’t regret any of what she’d done for a moment. But she regretted that she hadn’t moved on more in the two years since. Now that she had taken a tiny step towards that by working for Mats and by voicing to him and Fredrik that she was ready to think about selling the house, it made her wonder why she’d been holding back. Because it was no one else’s fault that she found herself in this position.

Maybe finding herself with heart-eyes for Erik Anderson was another sign that she was moving on.

She pulled her phone out, feeling the need to share how she was feeling. This was a new thing for her. Her younger sister Ingrid had turned into a grown-up while she hadn’t been looking and had become the confidant Ida never had. Ingrid lived and worked in Oslo and could hardly ever be tempted back to Bergen, but when she’d visited earlier in the year for the hotel opening, the five-year age gap between them seemed to have dwindled to nothing. Ingrid was the kind of woman Ida used to be: fearless, ambitious, and carefree. And even if that wasn’t who she was now, Ida could remember enough to feel an affinity with Ingrid that she didn’t have with her other siblings.

‘Ida! Hey! What are you doing?’ It warmed her heart that Ingrid was pleased to hear from her.

‘I’m good. Just sitting at the top of the island. How are you?’

‘I’m great. And I’m wondering why you’re calling me in the middle of a workday. Because I am very happy to hear from you, but it’s out of character, Ida. What’s up?’

‘I checked a man in today. He’s Canadian, and he kayaked here.’

‘He kayaked from Canada?’