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First published January 1, 2008
The department’s coffeemaker produced a liquid that was positively toxic. How Margit could knock it back in such quantities was a mystery. Thomas had switched to drinking tea for the first time in his life because of it.
Apart from the white eaves and steps, every last piece of timber was nauseatingly green. Without the eaves and steps you could easily have imagined you were standing in front of a giant marzipan cake. Only the rose was missing.
"I’ve never seen such a fine example of nouveau riche." (said Margit)

It gave Nora the unpleasant feeling that everything was for sale. Everything could be bought or sold.
Henrik just didn’t get it. He was blind and deaf to any hint that his mother might not be the best mother-in-law in the world. Nora gave in.
Now she had been offered her dream job, and he didn’t even seem to want to discuss it. It wasn’t fair.
Why challenge Henrik, instead of paying attention to the clear signals he had given her?
There was an underlying distance between the two men that never quite disappeared in spite of the fact that they had known each other for a long time. Henrik’s upper-middle-class background and deeply conservative values didn’t exactly improve matters.
Carina was next to them with her pen at the ready. Thomas noticed that she was wearing a barrette, but a few strands of hair had escaped. Her pink blouse looked pretty against her tanned skin.
Carina pointed to a plate in the middle of the table. "Help yourself to a cinnamon Danish, Thomas. I passed a bakery on the way in, and I thought a treat might help."
Thomas nodded. "Thanks. Anything that raises the blood sugar and provides energy is welcome."