staff making a huge spectacle of removing the dinner dishes and presenting an entire buffet of desserts with such fancy names that I had no idea what was in them.
There was some weird cake called Prinsesstårta, which Will explained meant ‘Princess Cake.’
“I used to call it a Catherine Cake,” he said, laughing. Catherine giggled at my side, and I smiled in spite of myself.
“It’s incredibly fattening,” Catherine said, wrinkling her nose. “But it’s delicious as hell!”
“Catherine!” Vicky admonished.
“Oh, God, Mom, all I said was hell,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I’m the future Queen, I can say whatever I want.”
“It would best serve the family if your language was more ladylike, Catherine,” Vicky replied, her voice icy and stern. I noted she only spoke to Catherine and Will like that, and in a weird way, it made me miss my mother. I’d love to confide in her right now, to have another woman to talk to besides Sally.
Next up was some sort of waffle-looking thing called spettkaka.
“Spettkaka is a southern Swedish delicacy,” Will explained, as he began piling the lattice shaped cakes on his plate. “They’re also called the “pyramid cake” in English, because the English had a problem with the Swedish name which translates to “spit cake”, because it’s baked on a rotating spit.”
“Like a pig!” Catherine said. “Why didn’t they call it pigcake?”
Will groaned and rolled his eyes, “that’s so stupid!” he said.
“Stop it, you two!” Vicky said, and they both stopped closed their mouths. “You’re making a bad impression on Julia.”
“Oh, no —,” I replied, shaking my head.
“—you’re right, Mother. We should hear more about Iceland,” Will said. “Tell us, Beatrice and Elizabeth, how many Vikings did you end up fucking while you were there?”
Aunt Ora spit water everywhere and began coughing. Bertolf rushed over from the corner and began patting her back.
“Wilhelm!” his mother barked. I jumped and looked over at Will. His arrogant smile spread across his face and he winked at his mother. Her anger visibly melted as she looked across the table at her son, and she shook her head. The table erupted in laughter, except for Beatrice and Elizabeth, who tried to smile but looked slightly mortified.
“Julia, you’ll have to excuse my son. He can be a little crass. He has a mischievous streak,” she said to me with a warm smile.
As if I didn’t know , I thought.
We finished our spit cake and the dishes were removed immediately, replaced by a small warm bowl of water. I watched as Will and Catherine casually dipped their fingers in it before drying them on the hot towel next to the bowl. I copied them, feeling awkward, even though the hot towel felt nice.
“Before we all go our separate ways, I want to remind everyone to be dressed and ready to greet the guests by seven o’clock on Friday night for the party,” Vicky stated.
“Party?” I asked.
Vicky looked at me and nodded.
“Party is a bit of an understatement, actually. It’s actually our annual Christmas ball. There will be thousands of guests with an orchestra in the main ballroom for invited guests and a receiving line for the general public. It takes several hours to get through, and by the time it’s over, we’re usually ready to let our hair down a little. It’s quite a lovely, festive evening. I trust you’ll enjoy yourself, Julia.”
“Don’t worry,” Will said, putting his hand over mine. I stared down at him. He was touching me again. I told myself I wasn’t going to let him do that, but there it was. Flesh on flesh. Electric. Like a fucking light switch. “I’ll take care of you.”
“Take care of me?” I muttered. I didn’t need his care, and I was just about to state as much when Catherine spoke up.
“What he means is, we will both take care of you. You won’t want to get too lost in the crowd,” Catherine said, covering my other hand with
There was some weird cake called Prinsesstårta, which Will explained meant ‘Princess Cake.’
“I used to call it a Catherine Cake,” he said, laughing. Catherine giggled at my side, and I smiled in spite of myself.
“It’s incredibly fattening,” Catherine said, wrinkling her nose. “But it’s delicious as hell!”
“Catherine!” Vicky admonished.
“Oh, God, Mom, all I said was hell,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I’m the future Queen, I can say whatever I want.”
“It would best serve the family if your language was more ladylike, Catherine,” Vicky replied, her voice icy and stern. I noted she only spoke to Catherine and Will like that, and in a weird way, it made me miss my mother. I’d love to confide in her right now, to have another woman to talk to besides Sally.
Next up was some sort of waffle-looking thing called spettkaka.
“Spettkaka is a southern Swedish delicacy,” Will explained, as he began piling the lattice shaped cakes on his plate. “They’re also called the “pyramid cake” in English, because the English had a problem with the Swedish name which translates to “spit cake”, because it’s baked on a rotating spit.”
“Like a pig!” Catherine said. “Why didn’t they call it pigcake?”
Will groaned and rolled his eyes, “that’s so stupid!” he said.
“Stop it, you two!” Vicky said, and they both stopped closed their mouths. “You’re making a bad impression on Julia.”
“Oh, no —,” I replied, shaking my head.
“—you’re right, Mother. We should hear more about Iceland,” Will said. “Tell us, Beatrice and Elizabeth, how many Vikings did you end up fucking while you were there?”
Aunt Ora spit water everywhere and began coughing. Bertolf rushed over from the corner and began patting her back.
“Wilhelm!” his mother barked. I jumped and looked over at Will. His arrogant smile spread across his face and he winked at his mother. Her anger visibly melted as she looked across the table at her son, and she shook her head. The table erupted in laughter, except for Beatrice and Elizabeth, who tried to smile but looked slightly mortified.
“Julia, you’ll have to excuse my son. He can be a little crass. He has a mischievous streak,” she said to me with a warm smile.
As if I didn’t know , I thought.
We finished our spit cake and the dishes were removed immediately, replaced by a small warm bowl of water. I watched as Will and Catherine casually dipped their fingers in it before drying them on the hot towel next to the bowl. I copied them, feeling awkward, even though the hot towel felt nice.
“Before we all go our separate ways, I want to remind everyone to be dressed and ready to greet the guests by seven o’clock on Friday night for the party,” Vicky stated.
“Party?” I asked.
Vicky looked at me and nodded.
“Party is a bit of an understatement, actually. It’s actually our annual Christmas ball. There will be thousands of guests with an orchestra in the main ballroom for invited guests and a receiving line for the general public. It takes several hours to get through, and by the time it’s over, we’re usually ready to let our hair down a little. It’s quite a lovely, festive evening. I trust you’ll enjoy yourself, Julia.”
“Don’t worry,” Will said, putting his hand over mine. I stared down at him. He was touching me again. I told myself I wasn’t going to let him do that, but there it was. Flesh on flesh. Electric. Like a fucking light switch. “I’ll take care of you.”
“Take care of me?” I muttered. I didn’t need his care, and I was just about to state as much when Catherine spoke up.
“What he means is, we will both take care of you. You won’t want to get too lost in the crowd,” Catherine said, covering my other hand with
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