They chatted comfortably, catching up on each other’s lives until Lauren finally asked, “How is Vilde? You haven’t mentioned her.”
Lasse grimaced. “Vilde is history. We broke up a while ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Lasse and Vilde had been together close to three years. Lauren had assumed they would eventually marry and start a family.
“Yeah, well, she met someone else. They’re engaged.”
Lauren gently touched his hand in sympathy. She had always believed he loved Vilde. The breakup must have hurt.
“I’m not sure I’m entitled to your sympathy,” he said wryly. “According to Vilde, I had only myself to blame. She said, during our years together, I never once hinted at marriage. She got tired of waiting.”
Poor Lasse. He was such a good guy in so many ways, but he had been skirting around marriage for as long as she had known him. And now he had lost his girl because of it. His antipathy toward the institution was puzzling as his parents’ marriage was a solid and loving one. It was one of the many reasons Lauren was so comfortable spending time with them.
“Still, the breakup couldn’t have been easy,” she said gently. “You were together a long time.”
“And now we’re not,” he said, a touch of finality in his voice.
Lauren left it alone.
“What about this unknown relation you’ve come to meet?” said Lasse, as they avoided the downtown traffic and took the tunnel heading north. “Did you really not know about him?”
“We really didn’t. We’re supposedly connected somewhere on my mother’s paternal great-grandfather’s side of the family, but I don’t know where he fits in exactly. It’s a real mystery, one I hope he can shed some light on.”
Lasse gave her a quick look before turning his attention back to the road. “Tell me what you know about him,” he invited.
Lauren laughed. “That should take about three seconds. I don’t know much about him at all except his contact information and where we are meeting for lunch.”
Lasse looked at her again, one eyebrow raised. “I assume the man has a name?”
“Funny.”
“Didn’t you Google him so you’d know what to expect?”
“I like surprises,” she said with attitude. “Don’t hassle me about this. My assistant already gave me the third degree.”
Lasse laughed, a rich, amused sound coming from deep within. “Are you going to tell me his name or do I have to guess?”
“Jonas something.” She reached for her bag and began rummaging through it. “Hold on a minute. My whole life is in this bag.” She located her phone and pulled it out. “Jonas Juul,” she read off her phone calendar. “We’re meeting tomorrow for lunch at one o’clock.” She mentioned the restaurant, a rather upscale one. “Satisfied?”
Lasse almost choked when he heard the man’s name. “Say that again?” he requested.
“Seriously, Lasse? It’s a simple enough name, short and catchy.” She smiled. “I like it.”
He tried not to show his shocked surprise. According to local gossip, Jonas Juul was only the best known and most sought-after bachelor in the city. He shook his head and muttered, “Nothing is ever simple with you, Lauren. You really should check him out.”
“Why? And why are you looking so strange? Is he a known criminal or something?”
“Not that I know of. But I know of him. He is a local businessman.”
“Successful?” she asked curiously.
“You could say that.” According to that same gossip, the man was worth considerable millions.
Lauren sighed in relief. A businessman. And if he were successful, he had probably spent years building his business. An older gentleman, just as she had thought. She settled back in her seat and relaxed.
Lasse glanced at her from time to time. She seemed content with the silence between them as they traveled the last few kilometers. He would have told her about Jonas Juul if she had asked. Strange that she had traveled several thousand miles to meet him but displayed zero curiosity about the man. One thing he did know. Lauren was in for a surprise.
Lasse turned off the highway and down the lane toward his parents’ home. He eased the car into the parking area and turned to Lauren. “Will you be all right on your own? I need to get back to the office, and my parents won’t be home for a while yet. Not much of a welcome for you.”
Lauren brushed aside his concern. “I’ll be fine. I’m not exactly a guest, you know. I know which flower pot the key is hidden under, and the bedroom on the first floor is mine. If I get bored, I’ll slip over and visit with the neighbor, and if there’s time, I’ll fix dinner.”
“Wow,” said Lasse with a grin. “Sure you don’t want to stay at my place? I’ll help with the dishes.”
Lauren laughed. “No, thanks. I like it here. Your parents spoil me.”
“They love you. They always look forward to your visits.”
The feeling was mutual. The Jansens had only been part of her life for the last eleven years, but Bente and Lilly, Lauren’s mother, had been childhood friends who’d stayed in touch after Lilly’s family moved to the States. Ever since Lauren’s first visit to Norway more than a decade ago, they had embraced her and treated her as one of their own. To Lauren, they had become her second family.
They exited the car and moved to the trunk where Lasse retrieved her suitcase, and together they climbed the wide flagstone steps to the house.
Lasse used his key to unlock the door while Lauren rooted around for the spare key under the designated flower pot, just in case she wanted to leave the house for a while.
Once inside, Lasse placed Lauren’s suitcase in the bedroom down the hall, then returned to the living room. “Enjoy your luncheon tomorrow. And remember, I expect a full report.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek and left.
After unpacking and settling in, Lauren spent some time reacquainting herself with her surroundings. She loved the Jansen family home, a house that had passed from generation to generation and, she had been told, would someday be Lasse’s. Comfortably roomy, it was a well-loved home. Lauren had felt at home here from her first visit at eighteen and always looked forward to spending time with the family.
She slipped out the back door, across the terrace, and down the stairs leading to the family’s boathouse and private dock. She sat down on the edge of the dock, kicked off her shoes and dangled her feet in the water. Too cold for swimming yet, but the water felt wonderfully refreshing on her feet.
Her mother had grown up across the bay. Bente told stories of the two friends rowing across to each other’s houses to hang out when they were kids. Or meeting in the middle of the bay to do a little fishing. In the winter, when the ice was thick enough, they would sneak down and go ice-skating. They weren’t supposed to as the changing tide made the ice close to shore slushy and dangerous to cross. But Bente and Lilly had been fearless until the time Lilly fell through the heavy slush and Bente helped pull her out, ice-cold and sopping wet. They did not tempt fate again but instead switched their ice skating to a safe neighborhood pond.
Lauren loved listening to Bente reminisce. She learned things about her mother’s childhood that Lilly had never told her own children.
Having grown up in the western U.S. with relatively easy access to lakes and reservoirs, and in a family that enjoyed boating and other water sports, Lauren had learned to love the water. But this little slice of western Norway appealed to her in an entirely different way.
Her gaze followed the hills on the far side of the bay to her mother’s childhood home, visible in the distance. She loved the elegant look of the old house and often found herself wishing it was still in the family. She sighed. No matter how often she wished, it didn’t change the fact that her grandfather had sold the property decades ago.
Her gaze lingered until the chill of
the water penetrated her thoughts. She pulled her feet out and lay back against the warm boards, her head pillowed on her arms. She closed her eyes to shield them from the bright light of the sun and within minutes succumbed to jet lag and fell asleep.
Lauren dreamed. She was on board a private yacht. Her companion was a young man with sun-bleached, windblown hair and eyes that crinkled attractively when he smiled. He was dressed casually in khaki shorts and a T-shirt and wore a pair of beat-up old boat shoes that should have been relegated to the trash heap long ago. Lauren teased him about the shoes, and he grinned, claiming they were the most comfortable pair of shoes he owned.
They were returning to port after a day spent on the water. While he manned the wheel, Lauren leaned back against the deck’s railing, her head turned attentively towards him so she could hear his voice over the subtle noise of the engine. Something tickled her arm. A fly, she thought and absently flicked it away.
Suddenly the timber of her companion’s voice changed, and the words didn’t fit their conversation.
“Thought I’d find you here.”
Lauren felt another touch on her arm. This time she stirred, vaguely aware it wasn’t a fly but someone nudging her. Her eyes still closed, she recognized Jon’s familiar voice and sighed. Her perfect day on the water was only a dream!
“Wake up, sleepyhead. Bente has dinner ready.”
Lauren slowly opened her eyes. Jon stood next to her, nudging her awake with the toe of his shoe. She sat up with a start. Dinner! “Oh, Jon, I’m so sorry. I meant to fix dinner. Instead, I fell asleep. That blasted jet lag.” She got to her feet and received a warm hug.
“Welcome, Lauren,” he said warmly. “It is wonderful to see you. I’m sorry you had to arrive home to an empty house.”
Lauren returned the hug. “Lasse met me at the airport and brought me home, so I was fine. And I want you to know you just woke me from the best dream I’ve had in ages.”
Jon’s booming laugh rang out. “Handsome young man romancing you?” he wanted to know.
Lauren grinned. “I’m a little vague on the details, but he was beautiful in a very masculine way. I can still see his face quite clearly.” She sighed. “Oh, well, I should have known it was too good to be true.” She touched her midriff. “I’m starving. Race you to the top.”
Jon glanced at the flights of stairs clinging to the steep hillside and shook his head. “As much as it pains me to admit it, I’m too old to race these days,” he chuckled. “But be my guest.”
She saw Bente waiting for them on the terrace above. She was an attractive, trim woman in her late-sixties, but looked much younger with her sparkling blue eyes and short, naturally wavy hair just beginning to turn silver. Bente wore no makeup and didn’t need any. Her skin was soft and still unlined except for a few fine lines around her eyes that deepened when she smiled, and her cheeks had that natural, healthy color so common to many Norwegians. Lauren hurried up the last flight of stairs and flew into Bente’s welcoming arms.
“Oh, Lauren, it is so good to have you here. Let me look at you properly.” Bente held her at arm’s length. She took in the sun-kissed glow on her cheeks and the new hairstyle—short and sassy—which suited Lauren’s enchanting face to perfection. “How many hearts have you broken lately? You look wonderful.”
Lauren laughed. “Not a one, but thank you for the compliment.” She glanced down the hillside and spotted Jon within a half-dozen steps of the terrace. “Let’s wait for Jon. He refused to race me, the slowpoke.”
“He may not move as fast as you, but he does surprisingly well for a man his age. Of course, he has been racing up and down this ravine since he was old enough to walk.”
Jon looked up at the two women waiting for him at the top with a contented look on his face. “I heard that. It is a good thing I am secure enough in my manhood not to be offended.”
“It was a compliment,” both women called out simultaneously, as he navigated the last few steps.
“And we both adore you,” added Lauren, noting that his breathing sounded quite normal in spite of the long climb. Jon appeared to be in great shape for a man in his seventies.
During dinner, the three of them shared updated information about their families and then discussed Jon’s business, Bente’s work as a pediatric nurse, and Lauren’s demanding job in New York.
Then her hosts wanted to know about the unknown distant cousin.
“I don’t know much about him. On purpose,” Lauren added. “I didn’t want to arrive with a lot of preconceived ideas and then be disappointed. But Lasse was pushy and insisted on knowing his name. He said the man is a local businessman.”
“And who is he, then?” asked Jon with a twinkle. Being a longtime business owner himself, he knew a lot of people and was generally on top of what went on in the city.
“His name is Jonas Juul,” Lauren informed them, “and except for what Lasse told me, I know very little about him. We are meeting for lunch tomorrow, so I’ll give you a full report tomorrow night.”
A peculiar look passed between Jon and Bente.
“What?” Lauren demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Jonas Juul is well-known in the business community,” said Jon slowly. “Highly regarded. But he is a private man who doesn’t flaunt his success. I think you’ll like him.”
“You know him?”
“We belong to the same professional association, so we cross paths occasionally.”
Lauren gave a sigh of relief. If Jon approved of him, he must be okay.
As far back as she could remember, she had wished for a family link to her mother’s native country, someone connected to them by blood. Jon and Bente had done their best to fill that need in her, and she loved them for it, but to have someone of her own . . . She hoped the man had children close to her age, someone she could connect with, become friends with. Lauren suddenly felt very anxious to meet the man and discover exactly where on the family tree he belonged and why her family had never heard of him.
The following day dawned bright and sunny but only moderately warm, so when dressing for her luncheon appointment, Lauren paired pale charcoal slacks and a matching top with a light-weight jacket in ice blue. She added an eye-catching lapel pin which gave the simply-cut jacked a little pizazz. Her only jewelry was a pair of diamond stud earrings.
Bente looked up from her task in the kitchen when Lauren entered. She smiled with affection. Though she seemed quite unaware of it, Lauren looked as if she had stepped straight off the pages of a fashion magazine. Jonas Juul was in for a treat, she thought with a secret smile. “I’ll give you a ride to the city,” she offered. “I don’t work today and have some errands to run, so I was headed there anyway.”
Bente dropped Lauren off near the downtown harbor, close to the designated restaurant. As Lauren exited the car, she waved goodbye to Bente, who wished her good luck, then cut across the busy thoroughfare toward the century-old building housing the classy Bryggeloftet, one of the city’s most popular seafood eateries.
Lauren entered the quaint, intriguing establishment and looked around. The hostess, an attractive woman in her thirties, smiled as Lauren approached, greeting her in fluent English. “Are you by any chance Miss Hart? Miss Lauren Hart?”
“Yes, I am,” Lauren replied, surprised to be recognized.
As though reading her thoughts, the hostess said, “Mr. Juul explained he would be joined by an American lady and asked me to keep an eye out for you.”
Lauren smiled. “I see. And did he show you my picture so you would recognize me?” She wouldn’t put it past her Aunt Nina to have emailed her picture to the unknown Mr. Juul.
The hostess looked admiringly at Lauren, then shook her head lightly. “Lucky guess,” she said easily. “Come, I’ll show you to Mr. Juul’s table.”
Lauren followed the hostess as she led the way tow
ard a secluded table by a large window offering unobstructed views of the harbor. The only occupant of the table was a man who looked to be in his thirties. Lauren wondered if the hostess had made a mistake, but he stood when he saw them approach, obviously expecting her.
Jonas was dressed casually in slacks and a blazer, a crisp shirt but no tie. His hair was golden brown with sun-bleached highlights, his eyes a deep, cobalt blue that crinkled attractively when he smiled. Lauren was stunned when the hostess introduced them. He was not only decades younger than she had expected, he was beautiful. And he looked vaguely familiar, though she had no memory of having met him before. Was this the right man?
The hostess left, and they both stared at each other until Jonas belatedly held out a hand. Shaking it politely, Lauren looked at him closely and asked, “Have we met before?”
The man looked at Lauren’s face and shook his head. “I don’t think so. I am sure I would have remembered.”
It was said in such a way that Lauren knew he meant it as a compliment. She smiled slightly. “Are you really Jonas Juul? The Jonas Juul who contacted my Aunt Nina?”
The man returned her smile and released her hand. “Yes, I am,” he assured her.
“We really are cousins?”
He nodded. “Yes, but quite distant.”
Before he had a chance to say another word, he found himself with an armful of laughing girl. “I can’t believe it,” said Lauren, her face alive with pleasure. “I actually have family in Norway. I am so happy to meet you.”
Unprepared for the force of her embrace, his arms automatically came around her as he took a step back to keep from losing his balance. “Whoa,” he said with a quiet chuckle and loosened his hold on her. “That’s quite a greeting. You should have warned me. Is that how you always greet strangers?”
“No, that’s how I greet family when I haven’t seen them in a while,” Lauren explained artlessly. “You have no idea how excited I am to meet you.” She thought about telling him she had expected him to be a much older man, then decided he really didn’t need to know that. She determined to simply enjoy their short time together.
Because of Lauren: A Love Story Page 2
