On the Line [Run Cold Book Two]

5: Sleepless Night

By the time we'd cleaned the bowls of batter and frosting, Hanna chatted and laughed and joined me in silly dancing to music on my iPod. A lot our fun might've been due to the quantity of sampling and tasting I'd winked and told her to sneak, but I liked to think of that as bonding.

She decorated the cupcakes in rainbow sprinkles and  purple sanding sugar before her mother shooed her upstairs. Oleana taught me how to pan-fry kjottkaker, minced meat patties containing a flavor reminiscent of Swedish meatballs. Mashed potatoes and mushroom gravy were the sides of choice, but I craved buttery egg noodles or a heaping bowl of spaghetti, something simple like I used to cook for myself on a college student's budget.

Much to Kettil's chagrin, Oleana refused to dance like a 'night lady' but in my hunt for the bag of potatoes I accidentally walked into the pantry at the wrong time and caught her wiggling those hips for him. Running a hand through his graying hair and smiling something wicked, her husband excused himself to the stables and Oleana herself didn't exactly look apologetic as she fixed her apron.

I spent the rest of my potato peeling wondering if her brief walk on the wild side made things more or less awkward between us and still wasn't sure come dinner's end.

Marcus and Katrine returned, tired and hungry and damp, after Hanna theatrically paraded out cupcakes 2.0. They ate reheated dinner at the island bar stools, though not without Marc glancing into the living room a few times, which I only knew from positioning myself in a chair opposite and sneaking a few peeks.

"This is stupid," I hissed, long after the artificial lights had turned off and I was left alone with Einar on the living room couch. Blue-grey moonlight filtered through sheer curtains, creating batty shadows of the playing cards we flung into my emptied cosmetic bag positioned carefully underneath the windowsill. 

I'd brushed my teeth and changed into my cotton Bruins jersey and lay on the couch and rolled and cataloged snores and rolled some more until Einar complained. He probably was a vampire, the way he livened after the sun set.

Being a queen (even a temporary one) meant you had a lot of time for waiting around until things were ready to be viewed or eaten or photographed beside, as silly as that was. Sick of toe-tapping, I made like Grandma Ruth and stashed decks of cards in my purses and luggage, just in case I found myself holed up in a room somewhere. Must've learned a dozen new games from staff and palace guests in the past month alone, none of which I was in the mood for.

Einar split the deck and we made a game of who could land the most in the bag. Thus far he'd beaten me twice, but as the cards flew and we regathered and launched again, my aim grew steadily improved.

"You should rest," he said as the moon rose higher and the slant of light shifted off our target. He set his cards on the coffee table. 

"I can't."

"Neither can my daughter at Christmas eve, when she's excited to see what presents Julenissen has brought, but you aren't excited about someone's arrival. Something else keeps you awake."

"Amy." This wasn't a lie, it just wasn't the truth he'd asked for; and he knew it from the tired way he dropped his hands on his lap then stood.

"Ma'am."

"Allie." I glanced towards the darkened staircase. "Do you think Katrine can tell?"

"You have a horrid poker face." He pulled back the cot's blanket and sat, taking a moment to finally loosen his tie. "Why should she care since you agreed to talk to Kettil on her behalf?"

"Yeah," I sighed, shuffling my remaining cards. "Sort of regretting that."

"Honesty now saves trouble down the road."