Valkyrie Symptoms by Ingrid Paulson Read Free Book Online Page A

my humiliation. They were all in on whatever strange inside joke was unfolding around me.
    The old woman turned and waddled back to her friends. The baker’s eyes were apologetic as they returned to me. “Tell Hilda she still has friends. Not all of us believe the rumors.” He shook his head, refusing the money I slid across the counter toward him. “Run home, and don’t pay her any notice.” He inclined his head toward the table of old ladies, who looked like they were contemplating a second assault.
    The baker certainly didn’t need to tell me twice. I had no intention of staying to be abused by a crazy old lady. Or mocked by a bunch of rude fishermen. It seemed that even if the town looked the same, some things about Skavøpoll had changed.
    A T SEVEN O’CLOCK that night, there was a soft knock at the door. I’d told my grandmother about what had happened at the bakery, and she’d laughed like it was the best joke she’d ever heard. Apparently the old lady was angry about something that happened at last year’s garden show. She’d spread rumors that Grandmother had cheated. Attacking me seemed like an over-the-top reaction, but as Grandmother showed me daily, flowers are important to old ladies.
    When I mentioned my plans with Kjell, Grandmother didn’t seem at all surprised. Even though it confirmed my suspicion that Kjell was acting under her coercion, nothing prepared me for her behavior once Kjell finally arrived. She could be a bit abrupt with most people outside our family. Which, come to think of it, might have had something to do with how the rest of the people at the bakery had acted that morning.
    Grandmother rushed through the entry hall to greet Kjell before I was even halfway out of my chair. She opened the door and pulled him into a bear hug—which was no small undertaking.
    I tried to understand what they were saying but only got the general gist that he’d been back for just a few days and she hadn’t seen him since the holidays. Kjell was clearly a favorite.
    I stood there, feeling stupid and silent, until finally my grandmother mercifully switched to English. “I’m so glad you two met,” she said. “And I know you’ll take good care of my Ellie.”
    â€œOf course I will,” Kjell said. “But she seems like the kind of girl who can take care of herself, too.”
    His response earned him more than a few points. As did the fact that Kjell looked even better when cleaned up—and far too sophisticated, in his dark slacks and sweater, to be seen with someone like me.
    â€œReady?” Kjell asked.
    â€œLet me just grab a jacket.”
    I ran upstairs and dug through my suitcase for a sweater that would make me look slightly less like a high school girl who had no business hanging out with a cute college boy. Which was impossible. I finally found a black sweater that Tuck always said made me look like a little old lady. Far from ideal, but at least that meant it made me look older.
    When I was halfway down the stairs, I heard Kjell and my grandmother talking in low voices. Something about their tone made me reflexively pause to listen, even though I wouldn’t understand. I strained my ears, but the only words I could pick out were Odin and Valhalla. And only because I recognized them from my grandfather’s bedtime stories.
    Whatever Kjell said made my grandmother break into a peal of laughter. Oddly enough, it sounded forced. I wasn’t sure what could be so funny anyway, given that Odin was basically the grim reaper in Norse mythology and Valhalla was his home. From what I remembered, anything involving Odin was pretty creepy and gory.
    The step beneath my feet creaked as I shifted, trying to creep closer. Their conversation ended abruptly.
    One look at Grandmother’s arched eyebrow as I walked down the stairs told me that my attempt at stealthy eavesdropping had failed, to say the