Chapitre 73: Sweet and Bitter Crumbs from Life Reflected in His Work

"Gustav, honey, why didn't you warn me earlier that you were coming back? I would have left for the airport to pick you up!"

Gustav smiled kindly at the man greeting him so effusively. Bjoern, the editor-in-chief of the publishing house where he made his debut and with which he had been associated continuously for five years, had always shown him great effusiveness. He was hardly surprised considering the kind of money the author, known by the name of Sigurd Gustavson, was providing him with.

"Come on. After all, Oslo is my home. I won't get lost," he said. "And anyway, I wasn't sure until the end whether I would visit the publishing house."

"You'd insult me to death if you didn't!" exclaimed an indignant Bjoern, but after a moment he furrowed his brow and lowered his voice. "I don't know if I should ask, but is something going on? No, wait, let's go into the office."