Before Chloe could answer, Roelke approached with a crystal cup of cranberry punch. “Everything okay?” he murmured as Kari swiped at her eyes. Chloe nodded, sipping gratefully.
Dad stepped up to what had once been the church chancel. After tapping a microphone, he waited until the room fell silent to thank everyone for coming. “My family is blessed to belong to such a community.” He paused to clear his throat. “And we’re blessed to welcome Roelke and his family and friends to our community.”
“That’s a long speech for my dad,” Chloe whispered. “He’s going to make me cry.”
Dad offered a toast to the newlyweds, and everyone raised glasses of punch or akevitt. “And now,” Dad concluded, “we have a special surprise.” He looked toward a side door just as Kent walked in—with Aunt Hilda on his arm.
Chloe gasped. “I didn’t think she was coming!” She had visited Hilda, now recuperating at home with full-time caregivers, several times. Chloe had found the tiny telltale letter R that identified the fiddle maker as Jørgen Riis, and she’d explained what she’d learned about Hilda’s fiddle. Hilda had confirmed that it had been a gift from Marit, but a private conversation had been impossible.
Kari smiled. “She wanted to surprise you.”
Kent helped Hilda to a chair on the dais, then handed her the Hardanger fiddle that Jørgen Riis had made for Solveig. As Hilda began to play, Roelke put his arm around Chloe’s shoulders. She closed her eyes, hearing not just Hilda’s beautiful music but Grandfather Jørgen’s too, and Grandmother Solveig’s. It was magical.
After the tune, Roelke cocked his head toward the front. “You go say hello.”
Chloe greeted Hilda with a kiss on the cheek and pulled another chair close. “I am overjoyed to see you here, and to hear you play.”
“I’m grateful to be here,” Hilda said fervently. “But—there’s something we need to talk about.”
“Okay.” Chloe scooched her chair even closer.
Hilda’s eyes were troubled. “Chloe, I’m sorry I never told you that your mother gave me the fiddle. We were fifteen, I think. I’d heard someone play at a lodge meeting and was crazy to learn how. And Marit told me she’d painted the sides, which made it even more special. I didn’t know she’d inherited the fiddle.” She lifted a palm, let it drop back to her lap. “I did wonder where she got it … but that was a different time. Back then farmers stored cattle feed in their grandparents’ rosemaled trunks. Ale bowls and ambars disappeared into attics. Heirlooms represented the past, and the immigrants’ children wanted to be American. But … I should have asked.”
“Aunt Hilda, you have nothing to feel bad about,” Chloe assured her.
“When you and Kari were in high school, I tried to give the fiddle back to Marit. I thought it should go to one of you girls. But Marit said no, that she hadn’t changed her mind about the gift.”
Chloe snorted. “Mom was not one to change her mind.”
“But,” Hilda continued, “she did say that if it troubled me, I should leave the fiddle to you in my will.”
“To me?” Chloe repeated. “Why me? Kari was closer to Mom.”
“Marit didn’t say. Maybe it was because she never really knew how to connect with you.”
Or maybe, Chloe thought, Mom trusted me to figure everything out.
“I almost told you,” Hilda said. “The day of your mother’s funeral.”
Chloe nodded, remembering.
Hilda leaned forward and clasped Chloe’s hand with surprising strength. “I want you to take the fiddle now.”
Chloe placed one palm on the fiddle. She’d seen it many times, but now it told new stories about people and places she couldn’t have imagined. The pearly inlay and black inked designs held new meaning. Jørgen had included the twin spirals she’d remembered, but also the squares representing fertile fields, and an ornate sun. The designs were balanced and spoke of his dreams of a happy family. It was a precious artifact.
But it was not one she wanted to possess. “Thanks to you, Aunt Hilda, that fiddle brings people joy. That’s as it should be. I can’t accept it.”
“Well, I have to do something,” Hilda fretted. “Now that we know who made it, it seems too important for me to keep.”
“It would be nice to have an expert remove a bit of Mom’s painting, to expose a devil or two,” Chloe mused. “Both Jørgen’s handiwork and Mom’s painting are part of this fiddle’s story now. But Aunt Hilda, all I want is for you to enjoy playing it for many more years to come. Leave it to the Stoughton Historical Society or the Hardanger Folkemuseum in your will. In fact, the Norwegian museum director is here. I’ll introduce you later.”
The older woman hesitated, considering the fiddle. Then her facial muscles eased. “All right, dear. That’s what I’ll do.”
“Pardon me.” Kent approached, looking apologetic. “Hilda, people are hoping you’ll play a dance tune or two. Only if you’re up to it, of course.”
Hilda smiled. “I am indeed.”
She began a schottische, and couples moved to the open area in the middle of the room. Chloe rejoined Roelke, who was watching from the side.
“Everything good?” he asked.
“Everything is wonderful.”
It was fun to watch the dancers—young and old, skilled and not, happy people wearing folk costumes and immigrant attire and everything in between. After a few sprightly tunes, Hilda began a slow piece.
Roelke held out his hand. “May I have this dance?”
“But you—you don’t dance,” she stammered.
He led her onto the floor and pulled her into his arms. They swayed back in forth in time to the melody. “This is the extent of my ability,” he warned her. “No Hallings or Springars for me.”
Chloe had never been happier on a dance floor. “This is perfect.”
After a moment he said, “I’ve been thinking about our Norwegian wedding all day. You know what my favorite moment was?”
She shook her head. The day had overflowed with favorite moments.
“The part where we promised to go adventuring together.”
Chloe tipped her head to meet her husband’s gaze. “I think we have lots more adventures ahead of us.”
“That,” Roelke said, “sounds very good to me.”
1. Porcelain doll dressed as a Norwegian bride, purchased in Bergen, Norway, 1911.
2. Square Doily with border of elaborate white Hardanger embroidery with cutwork.
3. Hand Cloth (Handaplagg, Handaklede), linen cloth with silk blackwork embroidery, 1700s.
4. Bridal Crown made of silver with gold wash, glass, and enamel, Bergen, Norway, ca. 1740. Embroidered silk ribbons hang from the bottom section.
5. Silver Bride’s Locket with filigree work covering the front, leaf-shaped dangles with an engraved decoration, and Maltese-style cross with three additional leaf-shaped dangles.
6. Hardanger Fiddle (Hardingfele) with devils painted on the sides, made by Otto Rindlisbacher, Rice Lake, Wisconsin, 1930–1970
7. Hardanger Fiddle (Hardingfele) with devils painted on the sides, >made by Otto Rindlisbacher, Rice Lake, Wisconsin, 1930-1970.
8. Carved printing block with spiral motifs, Hallingdal, Norway, nineteenth century.
9. Midgard’s Studio, Marie Maurseth Egge and daughter Helen, Stoughton, Wisconsin, 1915. Marie’s folk costume is from the Hardanger area. Helen holds a bride doll with folk dress from Hardanger.
10. Bridal Party approaching the Kinsarvik Church.
11. The Utne Hotel, with the Utne Church visible to the left, 1929/30.
Acknowledgments
Vesterheim, the National Norwegian-American Museum and Heritage Center in Decorah, Iowa, has been a wonderful partner since I began researching the first Chloe Ellefson mystery, Old World Murder; the fourth mystery, Heritage of Darkness, is set the
re. Fiddling With Fate was born when my husband and I traveled to Norway with Vesterheim in 2015. Warm thanks to Vesterheim’s dedicated staff members and volunteers. Special thanks this time to Chief Curator Laurann Gilbertson.
I am indebted to Agnete Sivertsen, Director of the Hardanger Folkemuseum in Utne, Norway, who provided insight into the Hardanger area’s extraordinary folk traditions and material culture; and to guide Maria Folkedal, who sang for us in the open-air division’s oldest building. Thanks also to everyone at the Utne Hotel who continue to welcome guests with rare hospitality.
Many people have helped me glimpse Stoughton’s Norwegian-American community. I’m grateful to Susan Slinde, one of the first Norwegian Dancers; Vicky Goplen, Sons of Norway, Mandt Lodge Vice President; Nancy Hagen, Stoughton Historical Society President; and genealogist Dee Grimsrud, who helped me imagine the complicated task of tracing Norwegian ancestors.
Thanks to Jeff Dunn for sharing his knowledge about 1980s Volvos.
I’m grateful to my agent Fiona Kenshole, and to Brian Farrey-Latz, Terri Bischoff, Amy Glaser, and Nicole Nugent for championing the series. Huge thanks to Laurie Rosengren for editorial assistance; and to Katie Mead and Robert Alexander, Write On Door County, the Council For Wisconsin Writers, and Ernest Hüpeden’s Painted Forest, for providing space to write.
I’m especially grateful to my family for a lifetime of encouragement, and to my husband and partner Scott Meeker. Most of all, heartfelt thanks to my wonderful readers.
About the Author
Kathleen Ernst is an award-winning author, educator, and social historian. She has published thirty-six novels and two nonfiction books. Her books for young readers include the Caroline Abbott series and Gunpowder and Teacakes: My Journey with Felicity for American Girl. Honors for her children’s mysteries include Edgar and Agatha Award nominations. Kathleen worked as an interpreter and as curator of interpretation and collections at Old World Wisconsin, and her time at the historic site served as inspiration for the Chloe Ellefson mysteries. The Heirloom Murders won the Anne Powers Fiction Book Award from the Council for Wisconsin Writers, and The Light Keeper’s Legacy won the Lovey Award for Best Traditional Mystery from Love Is Murder. Ernst served as project director/scriptwriter for several instructional television series, one of which earned her an Emmy Award. She lives in Middleton, Wisconsin. For more information, visit her online at https://www.kathleenernst.com.
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