“One reason I didn’t mention it,” Emil said, “is it all happened rather suddenly. Or rather, I think it was happening slowly and gradually, but I realized it suddenly. Another reason, honestly, is I worried how you would feel about it.” His words encompassed the group at the bar, but his eyes and his posture were focused on Nalle, the family barometer. The heart, soul and conscience of the Fiskares. And Ingrid’s favorite.

Nalle glanced at Kennet. “Did you know?”

“I found out tonight, just the same as you.”

“I told Kennet first because he’s eldest,” Emil said. “Which is how it’s done. Now I’m telling you and Minor, which is proper. Then I will tell Little and Trudy.”

“And Kirsten,” Nalle said absently.

“Yes. And Kirsten, too.”

“Well, Paps, I think it’s great,” Minor said. “A man like you isn’t meant to go through life alone. Ma wouldn’t want you to be alone. She had her ideas, but grudges and jealousy were never in her nature. Cripes, she was the most damn generous woman that lived. Hoboes chalked it on the sidewalk in front of our house, remember?”

“It’s not the kind of thing you forget,” Emil said. “Nalle, this doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten your mother.”

“I know,” Nalle said, sitting still and tight behind his crossed arms.

Minor nibbled on an orange peel and chuckled. “You’re a ridiculously lucky man, Paps. Some fishermen don’t make one good catch. You made two.”

“Ma would be happy,” Kennet said. “Because I think if she were at all displeased, lightning would’ve struck the house by now.”

Nalle made a small noise, which might have been a chuckle.

“Nalle-Bear?” Emil said quietly. “I’m going to marry Marta. We’d like your blessing. It’s important to us.”

Nalle shook his head a little and seemed to emerge from a dream. He smiled. “I’m sorry. I was just…being a dumb kid about it.” He stood up, took his drink and put his other arm around Emil. “You’re right. Minor’s right, too.”

“Gosh, do you mean it?” Minor said, touching his chest.

“Kennet’s right and Marta is more than right. In fact, she’s perfect.”

Knowing his middle brother was an open window without shades or curtains, Kennet’s ears strained for false cheerfulness. He detected none, and true to nature, Nalle’s mixed emotions were evident in the way his eyes shone at the edges, and how his hand shook a little when he raised his glass high. “Skål.”

“Skål,” Minor said. “To twice-in-a-lifetime love.”

“To kind ladies who live here,” Kennet said. “Skål.”

Emil glanced around the little group. “Till mina vackra söner,” he said gruffly.

My beautiful sons.

The glasses clinked together.

“Skål…”

Good Enough