dress for dinner. He liked the feel of the big room, its two massive flowered and skirted couches facing each other across twin coffee tables. Fanned out magazines and bowls of wrapped candy invited lingering. Jenny chose a chair facing him next to the stone fireplace where modest flames gave the room a golden glow.
Drawn to the old woman for reasons he couldn’t articulate, Parker asked, “What the heck does ‘Uff da’ mean in Norwegian? I see the word printed all over town.”
With a laugh, Jenny said. “In my ninety-plus years, I’ve used it incessantly. When I was a teacher, ‘Uff da’ took the place of swearwords. Just now, I said it because my spine pained me when I sat down; standing, my knees will protest and I’ll have to say ‘Uff da’ again.” She rubbed her hands together, wincing. “Between arthritis, dizziness, and barking dogs,” she said, pointing to her slippered feet, “I seem to say ‘Uff da’ every other breath.” Jenny slapped a palm on her chair’s armrest. “But I’m here to find out the progress of your investigation, not complain.”
“Thanks for the translation. As for my detective work, ‘Uff da.’”
Jenny laughed, her body quaking with the emotion. “I wondered when you’d conclude that Petersburg comes with challenges.”
He rubbed his forehead. “People are willing to answer my questions, but only after I find the right questions to ask.”
“Otherwise they’ll keep the information to themselves.”
“Right.”
Jenny shook her head. “It’s always been that way.” She was quiet for a moment, a faraway look in her eye. Sighing, she said, “It’s a problem. You have a tendency to assume the worst, to—”
“Right,” Parker said, interrupting. “Because people are averse to offering information, they seem to be hiding things.”
Mallen Skogland stepped into the living room from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Grandma, time for your pills. Orange juice or water?”
Jenny waved her hand. “I’ll take them later.”
“Mr. Browne, you’re being so polite,” Mallen said. “My grandma loves to talk about the past, but I know you have to be on your way.”
Parker looked at his watch and stood. “Better be going.” He winked at Jenny. “But I’ve enjoyed our talk, and my new, useful vocabulary.”
As soon as Mallen returned to the kitchen, Jenny motioned for Parker to come and stand by her. “I think the closed-mouth trait comes from the type of Norwegian who settled in Petersburg. These were rugged individualists, upset about not being able to make a living in their home country and so very determined to succeed here. As soon as they found the best fishing grounds around Petersburg, they kept the locations to themselves. Along with tricks on how to catch fish, they carried those fishing holes to their graves.”
“Really?”
“We have a high theft and assault rate here in Petersburg, higher than the national average.”
“I saw the figures.”
“Booze is part of it, of course. But I think the drive for individual success is the bigger reason.”
Parker reached down to touch Jenny’s hand. “That’s a good theory, Jenny.” He glanced toward the stairway when he heard his father’s steps. “I need all the help I can to work with your friends.” Hurriedly he added. “Like Liv. She’s a puzzle.”
Jenny nodded. “One of my favorite women in this town.”
“Ready?” his dad called out.
“In a minute, Dad.” Parker gazed at Jenny, knowing, for the first time, that the tug he felt from Liv Hanson was more than business and more than curiosity. “We’ll talk about her later, okay?”
She looked into Parker’s eyes. Then, as if she understood his complicated feelings for Liv, she winced and said, “Uff da.”
****
“More halibut, Parker? Fishcakes. Potatoes, Chet? Some lefse ?” Harriet Hanson pointed to each dish on the dining room table. She sat at the head of the table, smiling, her face flushed from
Drawn to the old woman for reasons he couldn’t articulate, Parker asked, “What the heck does ‘Uff da’ mean in Norwegian? I see the word printed all over town.”
With a laugh, Jenny said. “In my ninety-plus years, I’ve used it incessantly. When I was a teacher, ‘Uff da’ took the place of swearwords. Just now, I said it because my spine pained me when I sat down; standing, my knees will protest and I’ll have to say ‘Uff da’ again.” She rubbed her hands together, wincing. “Between arthritis, dizziness, and barking dogs,” she said, pointing to her slippered feet, “I seem to say ‘Uff da’ every other breath.” Jenny slapped a palm on her chair’s armrest. “But I’m here to find out the progress of your investigation, not complain.”
“Thanks for the translation. As for my detective work, ‘Uff da.’”
Jenny laughed, her body quaking with the emotion. “I wondered when you’d conclude that Petersburg comes with challenges.”
He rubbed his forehead. “People are willing to answer my questions, but only after I find the right questions to ask.”
“Otherwise they’ll keep the information to themselves.”
“Right.”
Jenny shook her head. “It’s always been that way.” She was quiet for a moment, a faraway look in her eye. Sighing, she said, “It’s a problem. You have a tendency to assume the worst, to—”
“Right,” Parker said, interrupting. “Because people are averse to offering information, they seem to be hiding things.”
Mallen Skogland stepped into the living room from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “Grandma, time for your pills. Orange juice or water?”
Jenny waved her hand. “I’ll take them later.”
“Mr. Browne, you’re being so polite,” Mallen said. “My grandma loves to talk about the past, but I know you have to be on your way.”
Parker looked at his watch and stood. “Better be going.” He winked at Jenny. “But I’ve enjoyed our talk, and my new, useful vocabulary.”
As soon as Mallen returned to the kitchen, Jenny motioned for Parker to come and stand by her. “I think the closed-mouth trait comes from the type of Norwegian who settled in Petersburg. These were rugged individualists, upset about not being able to make a living in their home country and so very determined to succeed here. As soon as they found the best fishing grounds around Petersburg, they kept the locations to themselves. Along with tricks on how to catch fish, they carried those fishing holes to their graves.”
“Really?”
“We have a high theft and assault rate here in Petersburg, higher than the national average.”
“I saw the figures.”
“Booze is part of it, of course. But I think the drive for individual success is the bigger reason.”
Parker reached down to touch Jenny’s hand. “That’s a good theory, Jenny.” He glanced toward the stairway when he heard his father’s steps. “I need all the help I can to work with your friends.” Hurriedly he added. “Like Liv. She’s a puzzle.”
Jenny nodded. “One of my favorite women in this town.”
“Ready?” his dad called out.
“In a minute, Dad.” Parker gazed at Jenny, knowing, for the first time, that the tug he felt from Liv Hanson was more than business and more than curiosity. “We’ll talk about her later, okay?”
She looked into Parker’s eyes. Then, as if she understood his complicated feelings for Liv, she winced and said, “Uff da.”
****
“More halibut, Parker? Fishcakes. Potatoes, Chet? Some lefse ?” Harriet Hanson pointed to each dish on the dining room table. She sat at the head of the table, smiling, her face flushed from
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