Time for New Beginnings

by Mette Barfelt

  “It is, but you get used to it. I feel fresh and energetic afterward, and I never get a cold.”

  They chatted while the cookies were baking in the oven. Soon the whole counter was full of baked goods, and the cookie jars were filled to the brim.

  “I have some leftovers from the Mexican dinner we had yesterday. If I heat it up, I won’t have to cook for my aunt. I’ve no strength to start on a huge meal now.” She fetched the leftovers, put everything on a plate and placed it in the microwave for a few minutes.

  “It’s so much extra work for you when Mrs. Fredriksen demands everything served.” His forehead wrinkled, and he stood. “I’ll check on her. Would you like to have dinner with me at Lombardi’s? Do you like Italian?”

  She looked at him in surprise. She hadn’t expected a dinner invitation. But could she have dinner with another man? It wasn’t like he was a stranger. After three years next to Erik in school, she knew him almost as well as she knew Preben. On second thought, she may not know her fiancé as well as she thought she did. She was aware of that now. She kept discovering new sides of him, and she didn’t like what she saw. A few hours in Erik’s pleasant company would be just what she needed after this challenging week.

  “That sounds nice. Especially getting served. As soon as my guests have left, there will be no more full board. The new guests will only have breakfast. That’s it. That was the idea the whole time.”

  “Smart move.”

  “I’ll make a cup of tea and a glass of sherry, so she’ll be fine until I’m back. I’ll take it along with the food.”

  She showed him the rooms before going upstairs to Mathilde, who looked as healthy as a horse this time. Erik seemed to be satisfied with her progress.

  “You look better,” he said, “for which I’m glad. Are you able to come down to the living room, do you think? Get some exercise? It’s not healthy for you to stay in bed like this for such a long period.”

  “That’s none of your business.” Mathilde was not enthusiastic about the suggestion, and her voice was firm.

  Erik hid a smile behind his hand. “As your doctor, I’m allowed to point out what’s best for you. And lying here is not part of it any longer. You need fresh air. Sit outside on the porch, or wander around your garden.”

  Bettina knew he meant every word he said and hoped Mathilde would come to her senses. Otherwise, she would wither away in this bed.

  Her aunt appeared to loosen up. “I’ll think about it.”

  ***

  Mathilde waited until they had left to get up. She was dizzy, but she managed to walk over to the window. She felt better today. Her doctor was right about that. To be honest, she was getting awfully bored of lying in bed.

  Then she saw someone in the courtyard. Wasn’t that Bettina and the doctor? Hmm, how odd. She would have liked to know where they were heading. And together! Wasn’t she engaged? What was his name again? Something with a P. Petter? No, it was Preben. How peculiar. Or maybe not. The motorbike was so noisy. Who could stand that in the long run?

  Mathilde caught a better glimpse of the man when he turned and offered Bettina a dazzling white smile. How did one get such white teeth? Hers didn’t look like that.

  The doctor was a charming man in every way. Even she thought so. Broad shoulders, Scandinavian blond hair, and a mischievous twinkle in those blue eyes. And he was a doctor, no less. He was the kind who would get the best parts in romantic movies. But back to Preben. Where was he?

  ***

  Bettina and Erik strolled to the restaurant. He was staying at the apartment above the doctor’s office, about halfway between Bettina and Lombardi’s. The distances in town were small, and it was fast enough to walk from one end to the other.

  When they opened the door, they were met by the aroma of freshly baked bread and garlic. They were placed at a cozy corner table by the window. Several of the tables were taken, but she didn’t know any of the people sitting there. Sara was the one she knew the best since they saw each other almost every morning.

  When the steaming hot lasagna was set in front of her, she could feel her muscles finally relaxing. How awesome to be able to enjoy a night without having to serve people. And not having to run up and down the stairs, while trying to fulfill another’s wishes. She deserved a break, if only for a night.

  “Do you come here often?” she asked and watched him remove a mussel from its shell.

  “Sometimes… Well, quite often,” he had to admit. “I can cook, but it’s boring when you’re alone. I eat at the café, too.”

  “I get you. There are only two restaurants in town, but there’ll be more when the new hotel opens.” She looked at him curiously. “Do you know anything about the hotel?”

  He sipped his white wine. “Not much. I’ve heard it’s supposed to be finished by spring, and that they’re focusing on both conferences and a spa. Apparently, the spa will consist of several pools and stuff.”

  “Oh, I could use that now.”

  He smiled. “I thought you preferred cold water.”

  “Not at all. I love water, no matter the temperature. Imagine all the lovely treatments they’re going to offer. I can go there to soften up my sore muscles after running up to my aunt all day long.”

  He laughed. “Yes, that would be something. I could assist you, but I doubt that’s appropriate.”

  “I guess it isn’t.” She blushed. Maybe this dinner wasn’t a smart idea after all. She had to admit to herself that Erik was very charming. And tempting. She pushed the thoughts away and tried to focus on her fiancé instead. The problem was she had trouble picturing Preben without seeing Christel at his side. It wasn’t easy to separate them, neither physically nor mentally, it appeared. How confusing it all was.

  “What I was trying to say,” she continued, “is that I’m worried about the competition.”

  “Between Preben and me, you mean?”

  Bettina turned an even darker red when she saw how it could be misunderstood.

  “Sorry,” he said with a wide grin. “I couldn’t resist. Of course, you’re talking about the guesthouse and the hotel.”

  Bettina smiled easily and lifted her glass of rosé. “I was.” She tried to stay serious because the topic was indeed serious. “What kind of impact are we talking about?”

  He thought about it. “Good question. The most important is that you spend the next six months on building your reputation. Happy guests always come back. And great word of mouth advertising is priceless. But from what I saw this afternoon, you have nothing to fear. The guest rooms are classic and elegant. Everything is consistent, and the stunning paintings fit perfectly with the surroundings. What’s not to like?”

  She looked at the rich lasagna. She had eaten half of it and was starting to get full, but it was so tasty. She took another bite. “The hotel will have lots to offer. Perhaps even some small shops, for all I know.”

  He finished the mussels and pasta. “On the other hand, you only have six guest rooms to fill. That’s easy. There’s a demand for accommodation in Solvik. If not for you, there wouldn’t be anywhere to stay. People hesitate to go to Oslo to spend the night. And they have different preferences. Some want a big hotel with a spa, while others prefer a unique and smaller place.”

  Bettina knew he was right and felt more optimistic. It wasn’t like she had a choice. The guesthouse was already there, waiting for guests, and she had received several bookings for the next weeks. She didn’t expect people to book far in advance at this time of year. But when spring came, they would want to be sure of a room for the summer, which was the most popular season in Solvik.

  “The guests won’t be able to resist the cookies or the cute hostess,” said Erik.

  Bettina had blushed enough tonight, so she finished the wine and decided it might be time to go home. She could hear duty calling.

  “We’ll have a dessert, right? They make a heavenly chocolate fondant. It’s the redcurrant season now.”

  She stroked h
er flat belly. “It’s tempting, but I’m so full.”

  “How about sharing one? I promise it’s unforgettable.”

  His insistence made her laugh. You would think he owned the place. “All right. I’ll eat some.”

  It didn’t take long for the owner to show up. Bettina recognized him both from the opening of the guesthouse and previous visits here.

  “Ah, what a superb choice,” Ricco said and enthusiastically gestured with his hands. “It’s our signature dish, and you’ll see why.” He disappeared with the order.

  “What can I expect from Mathilde?” She looked at him as if he was an oracle.

  “I think her desire to stay in bed is more about grief than a possible heart attack. It’s normal to feel tired, but there’s no reason for her to stay in bed,” he said.

  “That’s what I thought. Mathilde has been bedridden since the funeral, so you must be right.” She bit her lip. “In a way, I want her to come down and help run the guesthouse. On the other hand, I’m free to do what I want when she’s not around. It’s terrible to say it aloud, but that’s how I feel.”

  He smiled and took her hand. “There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, it’s completely normal. There are both pros and cons of sharing the guesthouse. As long as it isn’t yours, this is how it will be.” He stroked her hand with his thumb, and she could feel tiny butterflies in her tummy. He was stirring up feelings that shouldn’t be there. Feelings that were not at all unpleasant, only confusing.

  Ricco came with their dessert and placed it between them. The portion wasn’t small, and it abounded with redcurrants and confectioner’s sugar. Her mouth watered, and with her spoon, she divided the chocolate fondant in two. Thick, dark chocolate oozed out. And the taste was indescribable.

  “Wow, what a dessert.” She closed her eyes for a moment and savored the taste of sweet chocolate and sour berries.

  “I told you so.”

  “I’ll listen to you next time.” If there is a next time, that is. There ought not to be. She knew deep down that she shouldn’t have agreed to this dinner. But suddenly she got annoyed at herself. What was wrong with having a good time with an old friend from school? Wasn’t that what Preben was doing every day with Christel? And they had even been married. That was a lot worse. She envied Preben and Christel’s close relationship. She was the one who should have it, but she wasn’t even close. As if that wasn’t enough, she was jealous of Christel being pregnant. She longed for a child. Maybe it was time to have another chat with Preben about it.

  “I like spending time with you, Bettina. We’ve had a lovely night.” Erik had paid, and they were on their way home. She didn’t want him to walk her home, in case the house was full of guests. There was no point in making people suspicious. After all, she had only had a nice dinner and innocent fun. So they said goodbye at his apartment.

  “I hope this won’t be the last time.” He put his arms around her. She saw his eyes were circling her lips, wanting something more before he gave her a light kiss on the mouth and quickly pulled away.

  13

  The house was full of people, and the conversation was cheerful. Bettina was back from the bakery with the car full of baked goods for the next two days. It was the weekend, and Preben was off work. He had arrived late last night, and she had barely noticed it when he slipped under the comforter. Two days left, then his parents would leave. Only Christel would stay on, and the days would be calmer.

  “How was the car ride?” she asked while distributing several packages of bacon into three frying pans. The house had been empty when she got home yesterday, so she had given Mathilde an extra sherry and retreated to her room.

  “Haha, it was grand,” Willy answered on behalf of them all and used the opportunity to caress her arm when he sat at the table. “We went everywhere, and finally ended up at a fashionable restaurant.”

  “Good for you.” This was exactly his style, and his car must have impressed people, driving along the country roads. A Jaguar was not a common sight around here.

  “Look at all the cookie jars you’ve filled. It must have been lots of work. You should have come with us instead,” Elfrid said while setting the table. “Then you would have had a readymade dinner. We had reindeer, a divine meal.”

  Bettina set the strips of bacon aside and started cracking the eggs. “I’ll have to come next time.” If only they knew how she had spent the night. She wouldn’t have chosen any other place to be. The innocent kiss Erik had given her when they parted was impossible to forget. How could a tiny kiss make her thoughts run in all directions? Perhaps she should have gone with them.

  “How was your dinner last night, Preben?” she asked and looked at his tired face. He liked to sleep in on the weekends, and now he had to get up early to have breakfast with his parents.

  “Late.”

  Christel smiled. “You’re not an early bird. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

  “Yes, please. You’re an angel.”

  Bettina felt a sting in her heart. His ex-wife knew precisely what he needed and how he felt, even without being told. But then again, Christel had had breakfast with him every morning for eight years, while she had only lived with him a few weekends. Either way, she should have been attentive enough to ask him what he wanted. How hard it was having his parents visit. She might have remembered if there weren’t so many other things to take care of. Like bacon, that easily could burn in the pan. She noticed that the eggs had been fried too long, and she had to start over again. Now she had to keep in mind that her aunt was also waiting for breakfast, but she would have to do without for a while longer. The guests had priority, at least now Mathilde was feeling better.

  “Bettina has decided on the flowers for the wedding,” Elfrid said with a satisfied expression on her face and looked at her son. “It’s a step in the right direction.”

  “Absolutely. Did you choose roses?” He didn’t have time to look up. He ate as if he hadn’t had food in a long time, so the dinner last night couldn’t have been filling. Most likely a French restaurant, with an insignificant piece of meat placed in the middle of the plate and an absence of carbohydrates.

  Bettina looked at him, bewildered. “No, peonies. It’s my favorite flower.” Had she never told him that? She remembered he had bought her flowers on several occasions, but it had always been red roses.

  “Oh, I was hoping for roses.” He looked disappointed, and she could feel herself getting annoyed. Was he going to have an opinion about that too? She didn’t know a single man who would care what flowers were decided on for his wedding. Most would be more than happy if the decision was made for them, and they only had to show up at the wedding.

  “Because you had roses last time?” It slipped out of her. Oh no, what had she said now? What she was thinking, of course. It was too late to take the words back. One look at her fiancé’s face confirmed it was red roses that counted.

  “I like roses. Nothing wrong with that.”

  The other women around the table were smart enough to keep their mouths shut, but not his father.

  “Haha, forget the flowers. No one cares about them anyway. The wedding night is what’s crucial. Start planning that.”

  Now it was Bettina’s turn to have rosy cheeks, and right now she was tired of flowers altogether. She deftly changed the subject. “I was thinking of May as the perfect month to get married. Perhaps the end of May.”

  Everyone looked at each other, and she realized that she’d said something wrong again. What could it be this time? Not even Willy said anything. She looked at them, but they had found some food on the table that they were scrutinizing thoroughly. There was nothing left to do but ask. “What’s the matter?”

  Preben looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat. “We married in mid-May.”

  She felt a twinge in the heart. How on earth was she supposed to know that May was “their” month? At least she hadn’t chosen the same weekend. But why had she never inquired about when he
got married? Because the thought had never crossed her mind. She regretted it now.

  “It was just a suggestion. It doesn’t matter to me when in the spring it’ll be,” she said, trying to satisfy everyone. “You pick a day, Preben.”

  He seemed to be at a loss, and in no condition to make such a serious decision. “Let’s think about it. I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”

  She wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but she let it be. There were more important issues that had to be dealt with first, like the church and the venue for the reception. And she had no plans on bringing it up now, with his parents and ex-wife present.

  “This was a tasty meal,” Elfrid said and started clearing the glasses. “You’re spoiling us, Bettina.”

  “I’m glad you like it here. Now I have to run up to Mathilde with another cup of tea.” She left Preben to entertain his parents. She had lunch and dinner to plan and didn’t know what to make today. They were leaving tomorrow, so she had to come up with something for their last day. She decided to make a buffet for lunch so everyone could help themselves. And for dinner, she would make something simple. She felt like having pizza and decided to serve homemade pizza. She would need to make two or three pizzas in the roasting pan, so she needed a lot of dough. Anneli was having a sleepover at Jane’s this weekend, so that was one less to feed.

  She needed pepperoni, ham, onions, and cheese, in addition to a few ingredients for a salad. She’d get the groceries now. Mathilde’s condition was improving, and Bettina was more optimistic than she had been in a long time. She had to think of something clever to lure her out of the apartment but didn’t know what. Mathilde couldn’t stay in bed any longer. The doctor had been explicit.

  The grocery store didn’t only have groceries, but a range of other articles. This was where the folks of Solvik did their daily shopping. Bettina fetched a shopping cart and started filling it with cherry tomatoes and cucumber from the vegetable section.