“Send him in,” David said once Michel was gone.
He stood up. This won’t take long.
Malin mumbled something, and then he saw the man.
“You can go on in,” Malin said, and David’s normally confident communications director looked uncertain as she showed the visitor in.
David crossed his arms over his chest and studied the man who walked in. “Carl-Erik Tessin,” Malin said. “Count Tessin,” she, the woman who was never nervous, added nervously.
“Thanks, Malin,” David said. “You can go home. This won’t take long.” He was deliberately impolite, allowing some of the rage he felt to be heard in his voice. How dare this man even think about coming here?
Malin quietly closed the door on them, and they were alone.
“Hi, David,” Carl-Erik said. He spoke in that quiet, articulate voice that David more than anything else associated with the upper class and abuses of power.
“What the hell are you doing here? And what the fuck do you want?”
Carl-Erik’s face quivered. “I’ve tried to reach you.”
“So?”
Still no anger from the man, but then Carl-Erik had always been a cowardly, evasive person.
“I wrote to you,” he said quietly. “And called. You don’t answer.”
“No,” David said tersely, didn’t say anything more than that, didn’t want to prolong this conversation, didn’t want to have this conversation. There was nothing Carl-Erik could say that David wanted to hear. He hated this man, his count of a father. Just that word—father, dad—the most meaningless and noncommittal word there was, turned his stomach. This count with his genteel southern Swedish dialect and his rarified pedigree was the man who had had two children—not one, but two—with a young, beautiful Helena Hammar. The man who had met the uneducated waitress out on the town in Stockholm in the late seventies and started a relationship. Got her pregnant and never thought about separating from his wife, a woman with the right background for a count. There were no words to describe the disdain David felt for Count Tessin. He stared blankly at him, made himself cold, and radiated unavailability. If anyone knew what it felt like when an outstretched hand was met with indifference, it was he.
“I saw you in Båstad,” Carl-Erik continued.
David had also seen him, but in the same way that Carl-Erik once had refused to recognize his illegitimate children, David refused to acknowledge Carl-Erik’s existence.
“And I read about you in the papers. I read everything.”
There had been a time when this whole business of having a father had been important in David’s life. There had been times as a child when he’d wondered what he’d done wrong, since his own father hadn’t wanted him. One time he’d taken the bus, without telling his mother, all the way down to Skåne, a bus ride of many, many hours, and stood outside the fence of the mansion where his father lived with his wife and his legitimate children. Tired and sad, he’d returned home and then shut the door on his past for good.
Years had gone by, and Carl-Erik might as well have been dead now. To David he was dead. Aside from the fact that David hated him, and a rational part of him realized that you couldn’t hate someone who was dead. But he hated this man standing before him with a mixture of remorse and hope in his eyes every bit as much as he hated Gustaf and Peter. This man who always backed away, who exploited and left, who disappointed and was weak. David wanted to believe that there wasn’t a single cell in him that was like Carl-Erik Tessin.
“Like I said, what do you want?” David inhaled, tried to contain his anger, didn’t want to show that he cared. “I’m giving you two seconds, then I would like to see you get out of here. For good.” He loathed that he was so angry. He wanted to be indifferent.
His mother had loved this man. If Carl-Erik had been there for her, everything would have been different. Carolina wouldn’t have been hurt, his mother wouldn’t have had to work so hard. Maybe they would have lived happily ever fucking after.
“I would really like to get to know you, to have a relationship.”
David didn’t say anything.
“I wasn’t there for you when you were little, and I have to live with the guilt of that. But now . . .”
“Now?” David interrupted. “There is no now.”
“If you only knew how much I wish I’d done things differently, that I’d been there for you more, for your mother, for Helena. But she wouldn’t let me into her life.”
David remembered the tears and the bitterness. “Maybe that has something to do with the fact that you were married to another woman,” he said icily. He had no memory of anything good when it came to this man who had the balls to claim to be his father.
“I couldn’t get divorced, but I wanted to help her. She refused to take almost everything I offered her, I could only . . .”
“Is that all?” David asked coldly.
“I came to ask for your forgiveness. And your sister’s . . .”
“Caro?” David blurted out, despite having decided to remain silent no matter what the old man said. “What does she have to do with any of this?”
Carl-Erik’s face softened. “Carolina and I see each other sometimes. I’ve visited her at her home in Denmark. And we had coffee together in town yesterday.”
David tried not to show how shocked he was. They were in touch with each other? Carolina had never told him that. He’d always thought Carolina told him everything. He tried not to feel betrayed.
“Carolina is a grown woman, David,” Carl-Erik said with a friendly smile, a smile that made David want to punch his aristocratic face. Of course he knew Carolina was an adult; he just hadn’t quite understood that she had her own life. Maybe sometimes he thought her life revolved just around him, but he certainly knew she was an adult. It was just a shock to find out about her independence this way. Coffee in the city, no less.
“Carolina wants me in her life, and I’m extremely grateful for that.”
David clenched his teeth so hard he heard them grind together. His patience was at its limit now.
“She’s worried about your hostile takeover. She’s worried about you.”
The fury was like an explosion in his body. Carl-Erik had no right to discuss Carolina with him, no right at all. The rage sat in his chest like a seething black mass.
“Go,” David said in a quiet voice. It was either that or scream. He had trouble thinking and choked out the word: “Go!” The anger came in waves now, as if it was breaking against a rocky shore, as if he might lose control at any moment. “Get out of here,” he said. “Out. Now.”
“David . . . ,” Carl-Erik pleaded, holding up his hands beseechingly.
Something broke inside of David.
The tension, the rage, all the old feelings he’d been convinced he was done with were given new fuel, and he lost control. He stepped forward, grabbed Carl-Erik’s clothes, an extremely firm grasp that made the elderly man blanch. With the count in one hand, David opened the door with his other and threw—literally threw—him out of the room. Then he slammed the door shut with so much force that the whole wall shook.
He had to lean against the door frame and bend over to get the blood to his head. He never lost his temper, hated people who berated and yelled to demonstrate their power, but he’d come close to murdering an old man.
He took another deep breath and felt something akin to reason returning. It was evening and the office was empty. He couldn’t keep throwing people out haphazardly. The old man might have had a heart attack and died out there.
David ran both hands through his hair. He adjusted his clothes and put his hand on the doorknob. He made a face, furious with himself and this whole farce. He opened the door and looked out, but the corridor was empty.
Carl-Erik Tessin had left.
47
Saturday, July 26
Alexander had scarcely had a chance to leave Sweden behind before he was summoned back again. He’d stood in this same
passport-control line at Arlanda airport less than two weeks earlier. He’d just started to get over his jet lag back home in New York, but now here he was again, tired and hungover. Ordered home by his father. He didn’t usually obey when he could avoid it, but Alex was curious about what was going on. The family business was in danger? Was that even possible? The thought was strangely exciting. Almost liberating.
Alexander picked up his bags from the baggage-claim carousel and sauntered through customs out into the arrivals hall, heading for the line of taxis outside. The tabloids screamed their headlines. He hopped into a cab, but then realized he had no idea where he was going to stay. He couldn’t bear to stay with his parents. Hmm. Maybe he ought to buy a place here after all? Say what you will, but Stockholm was beautiful in the summertime. “Take me to Hotel Diplomat,” he finally told the driver.
He fingered his phone. He ought to call Natalia; this must be really hard for her. David Hammar, whom she’d seemed so fond of, was picking a fight with Investum. He glanced out the window. The question was, what the hell was going on? And whether he could be bothered to care about it.
48
Sunday, July 27
David studied the sculpture towering in front of him. He wasn’t particularly interested in art, and he didn’t really understand sculpture as a medium at all. But Carolina was walking around it looking enraptured, so he kept his thoughts to himself and nodded as enthusiastically as he could each time she looked his way.
Carolina had always been interested in art, culture, and other creative expressions, and he knew that those interests were probably what had saved her from losing her mind, so every time they saw each other, he made sure to take her to a museum or an exhibit. It was fun for him, too, although baffling.
There were a lot of people at the exhibit, and he noticed Carolina happen to bump into a man. He stiffened, ready to leap to her rescue. But Carolina just apologized with a smile, without looking afraid, without blanching. David exhaled and relaxed a little.
For so many years, going out in public had downright terrified Caro. He wondered if he would ever get used to her not being as fragile as before.
She came over to him with a smile. The exhibit was outdoors, and the breeze ruffled her hair. She smiled, and there were laugh lines at the corners of her eyes. She lived by the sea and loved the outdoors, the sun and the wind. “You don’t look as agonized as usual,” she said, putting a hand on his arm. “Do I dare hope you’re actually enjoying this exhibit?”
“There’s nothing I love as much as staring at naked statues,” he said. Then he added, “You look happy.”
Carolina squeezed his arm. “I feel good,” she said. “I know you worry, but it’s true. Someday you’re going to have to start believing me.”
Caro was right, David realized, dismayed. She actually looked robust. For so many years, he’d worried about her, been so preoccupied with trying to do right by her that he hadn’t taken the time to stop and see what was increasingly obvious: Caro was thirty-two and doing great. She was practically radiant.
“Now don’t be mad at me,” she said, “but I’m thinking about finding some cozy hotel to stay at for the rest of my time in Stockholm.” She bit her lower lip and watched him carefully, as if to see what his reaction would be.
“But why?” he asked. Obviously she was free to do as she liked, but this came out of nowhere. “I thought you were happy at my place,” he said, feeling a little guilty.
“Really?” Caro said with a smile. “And what are you basing that on? Given that you’re never home, I mean.” She was still smiling, as if to take the edge off her criticism, but she was right. He’d been neglecting her.
“Your apartment is great, but I’m way too old to stay with my brother. No, my mind’s made up. Actually, I already called and booked a room,” she said, looking satisfied.
“Okay,” David said, still caught a little off guard by this turn of events. Carolina had never been particularly impulsive, nor independent either. She’d always relied on him, let him make the decisions. He supposed he’d just instinctively viewed her as fragile, but here she stood, radiating self-confidence and authoritativeness, deciding things without consulting him. Like any grown woman.
“But if you’re going to stay at a hotel, you’re going to need some form of bodyguard or security,” he said, because Caro wasn’t just any woman, and he had to consider what was most important: her safety. “I’ll talk to our security firm about that.”
“You don’t think that’s a little extreme?” she asked, her head cocked to the side, her long earrings dangling against her cheek.
“If anything were to happen to you, Caro . . .”
She squeezed his arm. “David, you can’t protect me from life.”
“You know what I mean,” he said, and his guilty conscience for feeling relief at having his apartment to himself made his voice a little sharp. “I don’t like this. I’m sorry you’ve been feeling neglected,” he added.
But apart from feeling ashamed that he hadn’t really made time for her, Carolina was right. They were adults with their own habits.
And after Natalia had spent the night at his place . . .
The fact was that David had a hard time having anyone else there.
Carolina squinted up at a narrow sculpture. “And since we’re talking about this anyway, I’ve actually been thinking about buying myself a place here.”
He stopped and looked at her. This was news to him. “In Sweden?” he asked.
“Yes,” she nodded. “In Stockholm. I love Stockholm. I remember how we used to go into the city when we were little. Stockholm still feels like home.”
David wasn’t sure he liked that idea. The risk of her running into Peter or Gustaf was much too great. She might seem happy and healthy now, but what would happen if she ran into Peter, the man who’d injured her so badly?
“I thought you were happy in Denmark,” he said. “You’ve always said you love living by the sea.”
As a fifteen-year-old she’d lived in a residential treatment center, of course, but then the years had passed and she’d stayed, and the foreign country and the ocean had done her good. Now she lived in a house David had bought her, with a view of the sea and an enormous studio. It was in the middle of nowhere and windy, but she’d always loved it.
“I do. But I can have two homes, can’t I?” She stopped in front of a sculpture of a bird with outstretched wings. “I like this one,” she said, studying its slender lines for a long time. “I met my accountant last week. We looked over my assets together. I’ve got plenty of money, so I should be able to afford this.” She gave him a broad smile.
He’d managed her finances for many years, bought stocks, invested, transferred over as much as he could, always worrying about her well-being. He’d grown up constantly on guard lest something should happen to him or her; all his plans had been about making their investments as safe as possible. And that had paid off. Caro was financially independent.
“I have to say, it’s handy to have a brother who’s a financial genius,” she said gently. “Both my accountant and I were very impressed.”
She walked on, her long skirt swishing around her feet.
A Carolina who met accountants, booked hotel rooms, and made financial decisions on her own. David was at a loss. When had this happened?
“I can contact a real estate agent I know,” he said when he’d caught up to her. But he was fighting his distaste for the idea. How could he protect her if she was in Stockholm?
“You’re a real mother hen,” she said. She ran her hand over a pedestal, read the inscription, and then looked at David. She was smiling. “You know Mom would have been proud of you, right?”
I doubt that.
Caro had always thought highly of him, David knew that. But Helena hadn’t. Mostly his mother had been hugely disappointed in him. She had thought David let the family down, over and over again, that he was selfish and irresponsible. And she had been rig
ht, of course. If he’d taken better care of his family, a lot of things would have been different.
“You’re my sister,” was all he said. “I want you to be happy.”
And safe.
Carolina moved on to the next sculpture. He followed.
“I heard that you saw Dad,” she said after a bit.
“Yes,” he said uncomfortably. Thinking about the unexpected—unwanted—visit still left a bad taste in his mouth. “Carl-Erik come to the office, completely uninvited.”
Carolina shook her head. “David, it’s okay to reconcile with him, you know. He’s still your father.”
“I didn’t know you two were in touch with each other.” David’s voice was chillier than he would have liked, but he couldn’t help it.
Carolina gave him a mildly reproachful look. “He came to see me in Denmark a few times. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I knew you wouldn’t be happy.” She watched him with her big, blue-gray eyes, so like his own. And with a shock, David realized that both of them had inherited Carl-Erik’s eyes. It had never occurred to him before.
“You know he’s the one who paid for me to run away to Denmark, right? He paid for the treatment center. Mom let him do that.”
“I didn’t know that,” David replied resolutely. But he had wondered how there had been money for Caro’s treatment. His mother had never talked about where she’d gotten the money. Had he suspected, on some subconscious level, that their father had chipped in? Maybe. But did that mean he had to respect the count for that? Hardly.
“It’s going to take me some time,” he mumbled, well aware that that was a lie. He would never reconcile with the count, no matter how much coffee the man drank with Carolina. No matter how much money he provided.
“If Mom were alive, she would be so incredibly mad that we’d seen him,” Carolina continued. “You always had to choose sides with her.” She brushed her blond hair out of her face and tipped her head. “Did you know that he tried to contact us, but that Mom stopped him? He wrote to us every week, but Mom sent the letters back. He still has them. Mom could be very black or white.”
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