She added a few pastries to a plate, and Christy closed her eyes and breathed.

“Cinnamon and cardamom.”

“Yes. Kanelbullar. Cinnamon buns.” Robyn put the plate on the table. “I’ll teach you how to make them, if you like. And Holly, too. That is, if she’ll sit still long enough to bake. She’s a busy one, that’s for sure.”

Christy laughed. “You obviously know my daughter well even after such a short acquaintance.” She helped herself to a bun, broke off a piece and waited for it to cool before popping it into her mouth. “Incredible.”

“Cinnamon buns are the reason I decided to settle in Sweden.” Robyn took a sip of coffee and smiled. “I’m kidding, obviously. Erik had a lot to do with that decision. And the place itself, of course.” Oh this was ridiculous. She put her cup down. “This is awkward, isn’t it? I’m afraid of saying something that will upset you and you... Well, you must have a million questions. Things you don’t know and would like to?”

Christy was silent for a moment. “I don’t know where to start. Why don’t you tell me everything you feel comfortable telling me? I’d like to hear your story.”

“What do you know already?”

“Not much. My mother didn’t...” She pulled a face, and Robyn nodded.

“She didn’t want to talk about me.” It didn’t surprise her. What surprised her was that it still hurt a little, even after so long. “Don’t feel embarrassed. I don’t blame her. Things happened between us. Bad things. I made life difficult and chaotic, and Elizabeth couldn’t deal with chaos. Her way of dealing with difficult things was to ignore them. The worse the chaos, the more she blocked it out.” Was she being unfair? Was there really ever a chance that they could have come back from what had happened?

“That’s true.” Christy pulled off another piece of cinnamon bun, but this time she didn’t eat it. “When I was growing up she was always organized. She liked order and routine, but that didn’t seem like a bad thing. Life was busy, so being organized seemed a sensible way to live. Sometimes difficult to deal with, but not abnormal. We were never late anywhere, and we never missed anything. Dinner was always at the same time. Everything was predictable and stable. When my father died, it went into overdrive.”

Robyn listened, hungry for information. It was fascinating to hear about her sister from someone else. “What happened?”

“It was a terrible time, obviously, but she got so much worse. Everything was more concentrated and intense, and she would never talk about things. Anytime I was upset, or tried to talk about how we were both feeling, she’d say that the way to get through this was to keep busy, so we’d end up baking bread or scrubbing out cupboards. Sometimes at ridiculous hours of the night or morning. It’s only recently that I figured out it was a coping mechanism. I have a tendency to do it, too, although I’m working on that.” Christy gave a rueful smile. “Still, I’m a brilliant baker, so that’s one good thing that came out of it. Was she like that as a child?”