had been that she earned more as a policewoman than he did as a cook. When he got the offer to take over as head of the kitchen at Glady’s Corner, Irene had energetically supported him. It was his turn to focus on his career. She had regretted this many times since, but would never have told him so. He loved his work, even if he was often tired to the point of exhaustion when he came home. And who wasn’t, thought Irene. The worst thing was that they didn’t see each other very often. Now, with the twins living their own lives, it was more and more common that she came home to an empty house. Good thing Sammie was around.
They split up inside the shopping mall according to a well-rehearsed strategy. Irene had a list on which her husband had written what she should buy at the State Liquor Store. He went and botanized in the fruit and vegetable aisles, toured at the fishmonger, and rounded things off with a visit to the delicatessen. According to Krister, cheeses had to be tasted before they were purchased. He could stand and sample for fifteen minutes before he made up his mind. When Irene was doing the shopping, a plastic-covered Herrgård’s mild cheese went right into the basket without further ado, or maybe a tub of soft cheese flavored with shrimp.
IT WAS almost seven o’clock when they finally dragged themselves and their heavy bags over the threshold of their row house. Sammie jumped and bounced around them, eagerly investigating what was in the bags. He stuck his nose into a bag and sniffed. Little wieners? Liver paté? Grilled chicken? Yes! Grilled chicken!
Irene tripped over him when he was fussing around her legs. With repressed violence, she shooed him away from the grocery bags and went into the kitchen.
She made sure that she remedied the threat of starvation by filling the cupboards. Krister had purchased fresh baguettes which were still a little warm, a piece of whiskey cheddar, and a perfectly aged Brie. The cheese was going to be enjoyed with the evening’s salad. Because Jenny didn’t eat meat or fish or anything of animal origin whatsoever, all members of the family got to make their own salads. A base of tomatoes, onions, corn, cucumber, black olives, lettuce, and fresh basil was set in the middle of the table in a large bowl. There were smaller bowls with feta cheese, chicken pieces, and Thousand Island dressing around it. The dressing was made light with crème fraiche, which was the reason Jenny wouldn’t eat it but used vinaigrette instead.
Both girls were at home, and they helped slice the ingredients of the salad. Naturally, Jenny refused to involve herself with the chicken cadaver, so Krister had to do it himself. He paused in the middle of cutting up the chicken and said, “Girls. As usual, Mamma and I are working at different times this weekend—”
He was interrupted by Katarina, who exclaimed, “But you were supposed to have the weekend off!”
She looked at Irene accusingly. Irene knew full well that she worked too much, but with the occupation she had, there wasn’t much she could do about it. When there was a lot of work to do, there was also a lot of overtime.
“Had you planned on being home?” Irene asked Katarina.
Katarina didn’t answer, but merely shrugged. Recently she had turned eighteen, giving her the right to vote, the right to marry without parental permission, and the right to drive a car, but still sometimes she was just a child. At least she couldn’t buy alcohol at the State Liquor Store yet, thought Irene.
“Katarina probably planned on driving practice. Just like me,” said Jenny.
“We’ll arrange it. When are you going to take the test?” Irene asked.
“In three months. There’s a waiting list,” Katarina said sulkily.
Both girls had had their learner’s permit and had driven, accompanied by their parents, for more than a year. They were very good. The driver’s test would certainly go well. But it would be difficult financially, since both of them were going to obtain their much-desired licenses at the same time.
Krister cleared his throat. “If I may return to what I was saying earlier, we’re going to have Easter dinner on Good Friday. It’s the only day both myself and Mamma are free at the same time. And I start work at five o’clock on Easter Eve. But I should have time for a smaller Easter lunch before I start.”
Jenny