Page 2 of The Christmas Book Flood

She couldn’t have stopped her smile even had she wanted to. Which she assuredly didn’t. Slipping in, she sent him the grin that Ari had always said could warm the heart of a snowman and waited for him to close the door behind himself. “Good morning, Anders.”

He nodded, throat bobbing with a swallow. “Morning, Tatiana.”

She wiped the snow from her shoes on the rug inside the door kept there for that purpose. “Are you excited for next week?”

He looked at her blankly. “Next week?”

A breath of laughter slipped out. “The official release of your new book.”

“Ah.” Why did his smile look so sad? They’d already had enough orders come in for it to guarantee it was as big a success as his last one—which was saying something. “Yes, of course. I always forget the actual day—given that I get my copies early.”

As she had hers. Yet another perk of the position.

She waited for him to join her before turning toward the stairs.

“My niece is going to be ecstatic. They’re her favorite books.

” She’d already told him as much each time she asked him to autograph them for her, but it bore repeating.

In fact... “Oh! She’s arriving in Reykjavik on Monday and will be coming into the office with me, assuming Uncle Valdi says it’s all right. She’ll be so excited to meet you.”

At that, Anders’s face relaxed a bit, his smile more genuine. “And I her. She’s visiting before the holiday?”

“For it, actually.” As they climbed up to the third floor where all the staff offices were, she gave him the short version of Gunnar’s injury, Ari’s bed rest, and their decision to ask for help. “I’m so excited to have her,” she said as they reached the landing for their floor.

Anders grinned, pausing rather than turning immediately to his office on the right. “I imagine. And will the Yule Lads find her here?”

Tatiana’s eyes went wide. She hadn’t paused to consider that yet—but the Yule Lads would begin making their deposits of gifts in children’s shoes the morning after Elea arrived.

It was perfect timing... except that she had no gifts to sneak into her niece’s footwear.

“Well, I know what I’ll be doing this weekend. ”

Anders watched Tatiana dash toward her small office attached to her uncle’s large corner one, his lips refusing to give up their smile.

He could admit that he’d been dubious at first, when he heard Valdi was hiring his niece to act as his assistant.

In Anders’s experience, working with family was as much a headache as it was a boon.

But within a week, he’d had to recant his silent objections.

Tatiana was a spot of sunshine in the winter darkness. A trill of laughter in heavy silence. A scent of sugar and spice in a world of rations and lack.

He never dared say anything like that aloud, of course. If ever he tried, his tongue would tangle and his face would heat and his brothers’ taunting would fill his mind. Anders the Red-Faced Bookworm , they’d called him as a lad. Too backward for friends. You could bore a volcano to sleep.

His fingers tightened around the handle of his briefcase, and he turned toward his own office door, since Tatiana had gone straight to her desk.

It was different here at the Story Society, yes.

These were his people. Other lovers of books, of the written word, of the storytelling that had undergirded Icelandic society for centuries.

Here, he was understood. Appreciated. Lauded, even.

But it was hard to remember that after a visit from one of his family members, and it seemed one or another was dropping by his flat every other day.

To ensure he was eating—his mother. To ask a favor—his little sister.

To remind him of who he was and where he came from—all three of his elder brothers.

“Morning, Anders.”

He looked up at the familiar voice of his assistant, Helga—who had quickly adopted Tatiana as her best friend upon the younger woman’s hiring.

Which of course meant Tatiana lingered outside his office, chatting with Helga, every spare moment, thereby distracting him constantly with her laughter and lyrical voice.

He smiled at the assistant who could still outwork anyone, even with gossip breaks factored in. “Morning, Helga.”

“I put the post on your desk. There were several you’ve been waiting for.” She named several of the authors he’d been working with, all of which made him nod.

“Perfect. Thank you.” There was nothing like attending to his correspondence to get his mind back into publishing and away from home.

Last night both Mother and his eldest brother, Dalmar, had dropped in after the fishing boats had returned to Reykjavik harbor for the day.

Their mother had fussed over his largely-bare cupboards, as always, and put a pot of fish stew she’d brought for him on the stove to heat.

“From yesterday’s catch,” she’d said, sending him that look of disapproval as pointed as an icicle.

“You should thank your brothers for providing for you.”

Twelve years since he’d left the life of a fisherman and pursued higher education. Seven since he’d landed the job at the Story Society. One would think that would have been time enough to grow a few calluses when it came to his family. But each jab hurt anew.

He knew his lines in the script of their lives, though.

He’d nodded to Dalmar, head of their family’s trawler since Father had passed away six years ago.

“Thank you, Dalmar. Though you didn’t have to bring me food.

I was going to the grocer’s after I put away my work.

” Though he knew it was useless, he pulled his wallet from his pocket. “Please, allow me to pay—”

“Don’t insult your brother.” Mother had frowned and pointed the wooden spoon at him, spattering a few drops of stew on the floor. “You are still part of this family. We take care of our own.”

Yet they refused to allow him to use his salary to help with repairs to the boat. Fishing could support itself, they always said. Especially now that they were exporting their catches to America—one of many benefits to find them since the Americans had occupied their country.

Part of him couldn’t help but think they refused, though, so that they had something to hold over him—all the fish they brought him, despite the fact that he never asked for any of it, was a debt he then owed.

Never mind that he didn’t need it, never mind that he brought in more money through his editing work and his books than they did put together from fishing.

In his family’s eyes, he was nothing but a pretender.

Stories, they’d always said, might be what made an evening bright as they gathered around the fire, but they weren’t something to make a living from.

He set his briefcase on his desk and shucked off his coat, scarf, and hat, praying for the millionth time that the Lord would give him armor to protect him from those opinions.

He knew he was following the call of God by dedicating his life to words instead of fishing.

He’d never for a moment doubted it. But somehow, knowing it didn’t make his family’s disapproval hurt any less.

Coffee. He needed coffee to help dislodge the fog of stress from his brain, and he hadn’t had any at home.

He’d meant to pick some up from the grocer’s last night but had ended up not going, since his mother had provided dinner and then lingered, telling tales of his nieces and nephews, until after the store would have been closed.

The coffeepot was a relatively new addition to the office, but a popular one.

He could have asked Helga to fetch him a cup, but she was already on the telephone, so he opted to go himself rather than wait.

A crowd of his colleagues were already queued up, waiting for their turn, chatting amongst themselves.

Anders took his place at the back of the gaggle, wondering not for the first time how they could be so fortunate.

The other Nordic countries were occupied too—but by the Nazis.

There, they knew from the few Icelanders who had managed to come home after being trapped in Denmark or Sweden, private citizens were starving and dying of cold, because the Germans took it all.

All their resources, all their livelihoods. The people were left with nothing.

Here, it was the opposite. The Americans had brought prosperity with them.

Money they were eager to spend in Icelandic shops, for starters.

Then they opened exports of fish, bringing another influx of cash, and that trickled down to everyone.

For the first time in their history, he and his neighbors not only had enough, they had extra .

Industry was booming. Cities and towns were growing.

They’d gone from being the poorest country in Europe to one of the wealthiest, per capita.

It was a humbling thing, to be benefiting from the war that had been tearing so much of the world apart.

“I don’t know, Tatta.” Valdi’s voice snagged Anders’s attention, drawing his gaze to the publisher’s door, which stood open, displaying both the middle-aged man and his beautiful niece on opposite sides of his wide wooden desk.

“Things are going to be hectic between now and Christmas. Having a child underfoot...”

A hole cleared in front of the coffeepot, but Anders edged forward only a few inches.

None of his business, he knew that. But he couldn’t help but feel a little invested.

Tatiana’s face always lit up so when she was speaking of her niece.

He often asked about little Elea, just to see the way her eyes would go bright.

Surely Valdi wouldn’t deny his grandniece the company of family in the days before Christmas. Would he?

Tatiana’s back was to the door, but he could see the plea in the line of her shoulders, even before he heard it in her voice when next she spoke.

“You know Elea won’t be any trouble though.

She’ll stay at my desk and occupy herself with books or drawings or the schoolwork she’ll be bringing with her, since she’s missing the last ten days of class.

I promise, you’ll scarcely know she’s here, but for the smiles she’ll inspire. ”

Valdi’s lips were pressed together, his eyes declaring himself conflicted. “You know I want to help—but if you leave her at your desk while you’re overseeing the mailings, then she’ll be unchaperoned unless I put aside my work to watch her.”

“Helga and I could help.” The words were out of Anders’s mouth before he could think better of declaring to his boss that he’d been unabashedly eavesdropping.

And his feet, fools that they were, were propelling him toward the open door.

All for exactly what he’d been hoping—Tatiana spinning around, beaming a smile of gratitude at him.

Fool, without question. He knew very well that nothing would ever convince a woman like Tatiana to give him a second glance.

He had only to stand beside his hulking older brothers with their strapping good looks to be reminded of all he wasn’t.

Dalmar and Ulric and Ram had always had girls swooning—and had all been married for years at this point.

He, on the other hand, could never keep a woman’s attention for more than five minutes.

Still, he could never help himself when it came to Tatiana. She was never stingy with her smiles and gave them to everyone, it was true, but he lived for the ones directed his way. Like the one currently cutting through the clouds like a ray of sunshine.

Her uncle, on the other hand, lifted his brows. “You think you or Helga will have time for babysitting, Anders?”

“I’m a few days ahead of schedule on the manuscript I’m editing.

And there’s plenty of room for her in my outer office with Helga—and you know how she loves children, and she can outpace the rest of the Story Society anyway.

She wouldn’t be a bother.” He offered a smile of his own.

“And perhaps she’ll do me the favor of looking over my own work in progress.

I could use the feedback of a few children and haven’t had the chance to show it to my own nieces and nephews yet. ”

Because when he’d tried after dinner with the whole clan on Sunday, Ulric had told him to put his rubbish away so the children could go outside to play.

Tatiana drew in a happy gasp, hands clasped together before her heart. “Truly? She will be over the moon! Elea adores Helga.”

He let her pleasure warm him for a moment before looking past her to see what Valdi’s reaction might be.

Thankfully, the publisher was smiling too, though with a few more reservations in his eyes. “All right. We’ll give it a try. But if it doesn’t work out, she’ll have to stay with Beta during the days instead. Fair enough?”

Having met Valdi’s wife many times, he had no doubt she’d be eager to host little Elea if it came to that. But taking her to her aunt and uncle’s house and then picking her up again would steal the moments he knew Tatiana was hoping to spend with her niece.

She moved her smile from Anders to her uncle and back again. “Thank you. Both of you. You won’t regret it—I promise.”

Elea could be a little monster, and he still wouldn’t regret it. Anything that earned him that smile was something he’d do gladly. Feeling his face begin to heat in that way he hated, he merely nodded and ducked back into the coffee line.