But she couldn’t deny that Jonas and Rolo were worlds apart, and it had to do with more than just the fact that they’d grown up in different countries.
It was refreshing. Jonas was refreshing.
So refreshing, in fact, that when the door opened and the bell tinkled, Frankie didn’t even look up until a shadow fell over her. She’d almost forgotten why she was in the gallery in the first place.
Almost…
‘Hello. I would ask if you needed any help but I can see that you’re in Jonas’s careful hands, so in that case, can I offer you some refreshment?’
The voice was strange yet familiar, as if stirring long-buried memories, and the accent was English, just like her own.
Frankie raised her eyes and her mouth fell open.
Chapter 11
Jonas watched Frankie’s expression change when Freya entered the gallery. It was as if she’d brought an icy draught in with her because Frankie’s face drained of colour and her green eyes widened as she peered up at Freya.
As he stared at them both, Jonas realized why Frankie had seemed so familiar when he’d first seen her: it was because she reminded him of Freya.
How was that even possible?
‘I’ll get some coffees.’ Freya was in her efficient professional business mode. He’d seen it many times before, the slow lifting of her chin and pushing back of her shoulders, the gentle patting of her hair then the determined way she put one foot in front of the other.
Frankie, on the other hand, seemed to have slumped in her chair.
‘I think I have all the details I need now.’ Jonas tried to get her attention.
She nodded but stared at her hands.
‘Frankie?’
‘Uh?’
‘I said I have everything I need for now but I’ll give you my number in case you think of anything else. Or change your mind.’ He gave small laugh, trying to thaw the atmosphere that had changed when Freya had walked in, but Frankie seemed oblivious to his attempt at a joke.
‘Why would I change my mind?’
‘Some people do, especially if it’s an impulse buy.’
Frankie shook her head. ‘I won’t change my mind.’
Jonas nodded then pushed his chair back. ‘I’ll see if Freya needs a hand. Be right back.’
He left Frankie sitting at the desk, suspecting that for some reason or other she needed a few moments alone, and walked through the gallery to the kitchenette.
Was she running away from something? She certainly had that shell-shocked air of a woman needing some space from something that life had thrown at her. He was also puzzled about her reaction to Freya. He knew Freya had left England almost thirty years ago and that she’d had a troubled time there, but she’d never told him everything. In fact, she’d said it was too painful to speak about in detail but that she’d loved and lost and that she often wished she could turn back time and start over. But that wasn’t possible because life didn’t have a rewind button.
Freya was practical and philosophical and Jonas looked up to her. He admired her artistic talent, although these days she didn’t paint that much, and he found her attitude towards life inspiring. She was a free spirit too; he recognized it in her but she also had a haunted quality that told of harder times, of a broken heart. She’d been out with him a few times on his tours to experience the freedom of the Norwegian wilderness first-hand, but he sensed that she was wishing someone was with her on those tours. Perhaps more than one person…
Whoever it was that she’d been forced to leave behind when she left England.
‘Everything all right, Freya?’ he asked, as he entered the small kitchenette and found her making coffee.
‘Yes, Jonas, thank you, although I do have a bit of a headache today.’
‘If you’d like, I could make the coffee and take it through. That customer… Frankie Ashford… has just bought one of my Northern Lights range.’ He got three mugs from the cupboard then pulled the milk from the fridge. ‘I forgot to ask if she wants milk.’ He frowned.
‘Did you say Frankie Ashford?’
He turned to look at Freya and her eyes bored into his. He’d never seen her like this before. Her calming presence, her joie de vivre, had dispersed and it was like looking at a stranger.
‘Freya, what is it? You’re worrying me.’
‘Oh, Jonas, I knew that one day my past would catch up with me but I didn’t know exactly how.’
‘Your past?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I know and it’s a long story.’
‘I’m a good listener.’
‘I will tell you, I promise. You’ve been a good friend to me and you deserve to know. Of course, it could just be a coincidence and perhaps it’s a different Frankie Ashford.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I know.’ She shook her head.
‘I don’t want to pry, Freya, I just want to know that you’re all right.’
She placed a cool hand on his arm. Her silver bangles jangled as they always did and her short purple glitter nails sparkled.
‘You’re not prying, Jonas, and you have a right to know the truth. You’re like a son to me.’
He swallowed hard at the compliment. He knew that Freya respected him and his work but to say that he was like a son to her was more than he’d expected. She didn’t have anyone else and she led a quiet life, and sometimes he worried about her because of it, but whenever he’d tried to ask if she was OK, she always brushed off his concerns. He hugged her with one arm, almost embarrassed to make contact but sensing that Freya needed it.
She smiled up at him. ‘You sweetheart! Thank you. Right, I have an idea. Seeing as how that young woman just made a purchase, I think we should take her out to dinner to celebrate. What do you think?’
He swallowed his response about the fact that she’d only bought one photograph and that would probably pay for one meal, because Freya looked so keen that he didn’t want to disappoint her. ‘I think that’s a great idea. Will you invite her?’
She shook her head.
‘You do it but make sure she doesn’t refuse. If she can’t come tonight, then suggest tomorrow, and reassure her that we do this with most customers. I’ll stay out here, so you tell her I’ve got caught up with an international customer on the phone.’
‘Will do. The usual place?’
‘Yes. I’ll book a table for eight.’
Jonas placed two mugs of coffee on a tray along with a small jug of milk and some sachets of sugar then carried it through to the gallery. Freya was acting strangely but she’d asked him to trust her and told him that she’d explain everything, so he’d try not to worry. He was also glad that he had the excuse to ask to see Frankie again.
She was special in some way and he wasn’t quite sure what it was, and she was linked to Freya or the gallery or to some aspect of their lives too, he felt sure of it. So there was no way that he could let Frankie walk out of their lives today without ensuring that they’d see each other at least once more.
* * *
‘Thank you.’ Frankie accepted the mug of coffee then shook her head to milk and sugar.
‘Freya sends her apologies but she’s on the phone to an international customer.’
‘Oh… right.’
Frankie sipped her coffee to try to hide her disappointment. She didn’t think that Freya had recognized her but she’d wanted her to, and the fact that her mother had just walked away without a second glance was making her chest hurt.
She winced as hot coffee filled her mouth and tried not to spit it back out. Instead, she rolled it around her mouth then swallowed. What was a bit of physical pain compared to the heartache she was suffering? She’d been stupid coming here, stupid hoping for more. Sometimes, answers never came and she should have just accepted that. She’d drink her coffee then get up, walk out and go home. What else could she do?
‘Frankie, how would you feel about dinne
r tonight?’
She met his gaze.
‘Dinner?’
‘Yes. With Freya and me.’ His cheeks coloured in that way she already found endearing and he glanced away as if he was uncomfortable before meeting her eyes again. ‘It’s a standard thing we do with most customers.’ He frowned. ‘Especially ones from abroad. I would have liked to ask you out to dinner anyway, even if you hadn’t made a purchase, but Freya would like to come too. Not as some kind of gooseberry, you understand. But then it’s not a date. Oh stop talking, Jonas.’ He tapped his forehead and smiled. ‘I will start again. Frankie, would you like to join Freya and me for dinner so we can tell you more about beautiful Norway and convince you to visit Oslo again someday?’
‘I’d love to.’
‘Tonight?’
‘Yes. Why not?’
Her heart skipped. Her mother wanted to have dinner with her, even if it was as a customer, and so did Jonas. Although it seemed that Jonas would’ve liked to take her out anyway and she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that right now. It made something inside her flutter, but she needed to process what was happening, and if this was the right thing to do. After twenty-nine years, she was going to have dinner with her mother. She wanted to jump up and down and punch the air and scream and cry and run up and down the street. But she’d do none of those things because then they’d wonder what on earth was wrong with her.
So instead she calmly asked, ‘Where are we dining?’
‘I’ll write the details down for you.’ He eyed her outfit. ‘It’s smart dress. Not that you’re not smart. I think you look great. Like… really great.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Here I go again. What I meant was that they don’t allow casual attire in the restaurant.’
‘That’s fine. No problem at all.’
Frankie took the paper he’d written the restaurant details on then tucked it into her bag. She’d need to hit the shops again to find something to wear this evening. And that was fine, because if there was one thing Frankie knew how to do, it was to dress for dinner.
She stood up then he walked her to the door and she shook his hand again.
‘I’ll see you there at about eight then. And by the way, I think you look pretty good too.’
She flashed him a grin then stepped out into the Oslo afternoon, her stomach full of butterflies but her heart lighter than it had felt in years.
Chapter 12
Frankie was ready to go. Well, she was dressed and standing in front of her hotel room door ready to open it and make her way to the restaurant to meet Freya and Jonas, but… she couldn’t do it.
She walked back into the room and paced in front of the bed.
Reasons to do this: She’d waited all her life to get to know her mother. She’d waited all her life to ask her mother why she’d abandoned her. The friendly, attractive woman she’d met today intrigued her, and even if Freya wasn’t her mother, she’d have wanted to know more about her. Like, how did she end up owning a gallery and what did she like to paint? And… there was Jonas. Frankie wanted to get to know Jonas better too, especially if he was involved with her mother in some way.
Reasons not to do this: Freya didn’t know who she was and might not care. Freya had walked away from her and barely tried to make contact all those years ago. Frankie hadn’t contacted her after she turned eighteen, so now Freya might not want to know Frankie. This was going to be really difficult and Frankie was downright scared but also a bit angry. Freya had looked absolutely fine, not like a woman who had walked away from her husband and child. She didn’t look heartbroken at all, not in the way Frankie realized she had hoped she would. She’d expected to find a remorseful woman, possibly a broken woman, but Freya was successful and, by the looks of it, quite well off financially, so it was highly possible that she harboured no regrets at all about leaving her child behind. After all, she’d never come back and knocked on the door, had she? Never banged on the door until Frankie appeared then told her how sorry she was. So perhaps she wasn’t sorry at all.
She stopped walking and took a few slow deep breaths. Right, this was silly. If she didn’t go out for dinner this evening, she’d regret it for the rest of her life. She’d always be wondering what if… and Frankie was sick of what if?
So she was going to go and meet Freya and Jonas and, hopefully, have a good evening. It would be interesting anyway. Plus, she’d bought a new dress, shoes and bag for the occasion and had her hair done in the salon along the road. Luckily they’d managed to fit her in this afternoon and the stylist had created a smart, chic updo for Frankie that went well with her silk purple dress.
She checked her mobile and saw that it was seven forty-five. It was now or never; this chance wouldn’t arise again.
* * *
Jonas was confused. He was sitting in the restaurant waiting for Freya and Frankie to arrive but he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier that day. The way that Frankie had reacted when she’d seen Freya had definitely suggested there was some sort of spark there. But what could it be? Freya hadn’t elaborated yet about her reaction when she’d found out Frankie’s name, and Jonas had no intention of pushing her. He knew Freya would tell him what was going on when she was ready. And if that time never came, then that was fine; it was Freya’s prerogative, after all.
He drank some more water to try to settle his stomach. For some reason it was swirling like a concrete mixer and he tried to think about what he’d eaten that might have upset his system but nothing stood out to him. Unless…
He shook his head. This was so uncharacteristic of him. He was nervous about seeing Frankie again. Jonas never got nervous about anything. Over the years, he’d been a bit of a thrill-seeker and had taken some risks to get the perfect shot, whether abseiling off cliffs, jumping out of planes or getting up close to bears and wolves. Nerves didn’t affect him any more because he always knew the risks and was ready to deal with them should something go wrong. And here he was, about to have dinner with two lovely women, one of whom he’d known for a while and was good friends with, and yet… his stomach felt as if he’d just snowboarded in the Winter Olympics. Not that he’d ever managed that standard of snowboarding; he boarded recreationally, not professionally. However, he knew how it felt to soar through the air and pull a few 360 spins, and that was enough to send his stomach churning.
‘Evening, Jonas.’
‘Freya.’
He stood up and pulled out a chair for the older woman then kissed her cheeks.
‘You look really nice.’
‘Ha! Thank you. I wasn’t quite sure what to wear. I mean it’s not every day you get to meet your—’ She bit her lip. ‘A new customer from England, eh?’ She gave a wry laugh but her eyes were wide and she seemed stiff and uncomfortable, something Jonas had never seen before. Freya was usually so calm and confident, so relaxed within herself, and he suspected it had something to do with all the yoga and walking she did. But this evening, she was tense and coiled, as if she’d spring from her chair at any moment.
‘You always look nice, Freya, but your dress is very pretty.’ Freya was wearing a navy knee-length dress with lace sleeves and a cowl neck. She also had heels on, which she only wore when they had a customer dinner or an exhibition. Her bobbed hair was pulled back behind her ears with two silver slides and she was wearing seed pearl earrings. As she reached for a glass of water, her trademark silver bangles jangled.
‘Thank you, Jonas. You’re very kind.’ She smiled at him. ‘You know… I will explain why I’m all… aflutter. But after this evening. I want you to enjoy dinner and to make your own mind up about a few things.’
‘OK, Freya, you’re the boss, but I have to be honest with you… I’m a bit confused.’
She nodded. ‘Perhaps I should just go ahead and ex—’
‘Hi there.’
Jonas turned to find Frankie standing at his side. Her scent filled his nostrils, vanilla and coconut, sweet and sensual, and made him think of beaches and hazy
summer days, of paddling in warm water that lapped gently at his skin. He stood up and smiled at her, aware that the heels she was wearing made her about two inches taller than usual.
She stepped closer and he automatically leant forwards and kissed her cheeks. It was a greeting he reserved for friends but he felt as though he knew her somehow, as if their acquaintance stretched out for longer than just a day.
When they were seated, the waitress arrived and took their wine order, then handed them menus.
‘Thanks for inviting me. It’s really nice to have some company.’ Frankie smiled at them, the low lighting of the restaurant making her green eyes darker, sultry even, or was it the kohl pencil she’d outlined them with? Her hair was wound into a chignon, leaving her neck bare, and Jonas made an effort not to stare at the soft white skin of her throat and the hollows of her collarbones that were framed by her short-sleeved purple dress. He was no fashion expert but the dress looked expensive, as did her shoes. She looked as though she had money, as though facials and manicures and the like were routine rather than rare treats, as they were for his mother and most of the women he knew.
Then he looked from her to Freya and back again, realization dawning now that he could see them so close together. They had to be related in some way, even if it was a distant link.
Once the wine arrived and had been poured, Jonas raised his glass.
‘A toast to Frankie for buying one of my photographs. I hope you have somewhere to display it?’
‘Oh yes, I’ll find somewhere for such a perfect piece.’
He nodded. ‘I’m glad it has gone to a good home.’
‘How long are you in Oslo, Frankie?’ Freya asked, leaning on the table, her arms folded loosely.
Love at the Northern Lights Page 8
