Page 4 of Hidden in Memories
“What’s wrong?” Lydia asks.
Her sister is very good at picking up on small signals, but Hanna can’t tell her how she feels. Lydia gives her a searching look.
“Nothing,” Hanna replies dismissively.
Fortunately the waitress arrives with their desserts, distracting Lydia’s attention. Hanna tucks into her crisp apple pie with Marcona almonds, beautifully served on a bed of vanilla sauce. Lydia has chosen a chocolate mousse with cherries and meringue.
“Is it about a guy?” Lydia persists. “Have you met someone new?”
Hanna’s sister didn’t only take care of her when Christian broke up with her out of the blue—she also made sure that he shared the money from the sale of the apartment they had lived in together. Without her, Hanna would have received nothing, and she wouldn’t have been able to buy a place of her own.
“I’m afraid not,” Hanna mumbles with her mouth full. “This is delicious,” she adds. “How’s yours?”
Lydia has no intention of dropping the subject, despite Hanna’s best efforts.
“Just because Christian behaved like a pig, it doesn’t mean all men are the same,” she points out gently.
Hanna sees Daniel’s face in her mind’s eye. The hazel eyes that can switch between warmth and gravity in a second, the short beard, the way his cheeks move when he smiles.
He is the one who has made her feel at home in Åre. They often travel to Östersund together, and those are the best times in the whole week as far as Hanna is concerned.
Daniel would never have an affair behind Ida’s back, or try to con her out of money. He is totally different from Christian, a much better person.
But he is taken,Hanna reminds herself.
The music from the loudspeakers has been turned up, and the hum of conversation increases accordingly.
“It’s time to move on,” Lydia says. “Time to meet someone who really cares about you.”
“I know. I know.”
The problem is, Hanna has no idea how that is going to happen.
Not when she can’t stop thinking about Daniel.
3
The airy foyer at Copperhill Mountain Lodge is crowded with guests at seven o’clock in the evening. Paul Lehto is on duty at reception, working as fast as he can to deal with the long line. People are also waiting in the seating areas, and there are suitcases everywhere.
Paul has worked at the hotel for many years, but he has never had a worse day.
He is fighting to maintain a professional smile in spite of the stress in his body. A blizzard in central Sweden has meant that every train and flight to Jämtland has been significantly delayed. Now it feels like every single guest for the Easter break has arrived at exactly the same time.
Everyone is running out of patience. It doesn’t help that the huge open fire is crackling away merrily, or that there are lanterns with candles and Easter eggs piled high with candy in every corner. Nor that the décor, in tones of burnt reds and oranges with hints of copper, has been carefully chosen to create the right atmosphere.
People just want to check in.
They also want a scapegoat to take out their frustration on.
Paul can feel himself getting more and more irritated as they all crowd around the reception desk. No one is waiting their turn or showing the least scrap of understanding. And they are standing much too close, bearing in mind the social-distancing requirements.
It’s not our fault that the blizzard caused chaos,he wants to yell, but he bites his tongue, takes a deep breath, and reminds himself that his shift will soon be over and he will be able to get away from these spoiled fuckers. He can hardly breathe behind his mask. The guests don’t have to wear them, but they are compulsory for all members of staff as soon as they set foot on the premises.
“Next,” he says quietly, without looking anyone in the eye.
A well-built man in his mid-thirties moves forward, followed by an attractive blond clutching a two-year-old by the hand.
“Aavik,” says the man, tilting his chin upward. “We’ve been waiting for over half an hour.”
