“No,” he said, putting his hand out and giving Gunnar a firm handshake. Unnecessarily firm, for unnecessarily long.

And Gunnar responded.

Just as unnecessarily hard and for just as unnecessarily long.

Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

HIS COAT SPARKLED with snowflakes.

Karl Berzelius stamped the snow from his shoes before he got into the taxi outside the Louis De Geer Concert Hall.

He raked his hand through his thick gray hair and straightened his coat underneath him.

Margaretha was already sitting in the backseat with her purse on her lap. She wiped her delicate eyeglasses with a tissue before replacing them on her nose and carefully folding the tissue and putting it back into her purse, closing it with a click.

“Fantastic,” she murmured as the taxi swung out onto the cobblestones.

“What did you say?” Karl asked, looking out the window.

“The concert was fantastic. The best I’ve heard in a long time. Makes me happy.”

“Yes, it is one of the most played pieces in the entire piano repertoire.”

“I understand why.”

“Rachmaninoff, hard to beat.”

“Yes.”

He looked at the snowdrifts. As the car turned to the right, he turned his gaze up to the garlands that hung over the street, watching the thousands of lights swaying back and forth.

“It’s the second Sunday of Advent this week,” Margaretha murmured. “And Christmas soon...”

She said it quietly, but he heard her.

“Yes? And what about it?”

She didn’t answer at first, as if she were biding her time. Then came the question he had expected. “Maybe it’s time to invite her over?”

He looked at his wife, saw how she was hugging her purse and knew that she was waiting for his reaction.

“For Christmas, yes,” he replied.

“Or earlier, maybe even this Saturday so that we could...”

He held his hand up, signaling that he’d heard enough.

“Please, Karl.”

“No.”

“But I don’t want to wait until Christmas, and I think it’s a good idea if we...”

“She hasn’t called.”

“But I’ve called her.”

He glared at her, making Margaretha hug her purse even more tightly.

“Have you spoken with her?” he asked.

“Yes, and you should, too. It’s been a long time since you did,” she said, adding his name. “Karl.”

He cleared his throat.

“I don’t want to hear any more,” he said.

“So we should just leave her alone?”

“Yes.”

“But I don’t want to.”

“That’s enough! If you want to see her, do it. Invite her over. Do what you want! But leave me out of it!”

There it was again. The anger, irritation. He surprised himself with it. He heard her sigh but didn’t care.

He turned his gaze back to the window.

Back to the swaying lights.

* * *