9
Dinah made herself comfortable on the sunbed. It had a thick, soft mattress, instead of the flimsy ones that were so common at other hotels. Everyone knew it was necessary to have a proper underlay, to avoid bedsores when lying by the pool all day, frying in the sun.
She pushed her sunglasses into place and looked at the pool area. It was delicately designed, with several jacuzzies to choose from. The sunbeds were far enough apart to allow walking between them without hitting your toes. Every sunbed had a parasol, for those who wanted shade. Dinah wasn’t one of them. She worked on her tan continuously and started at Easter time, at home in her garden.
Of course, she realized that sunbathing wasn’t the best for her skin. She was a trained skin care therapist. She’d reasoned with herself many times before deciding that she would allow herself a few guilty pleasures. She simply loved getting a tan. So, she compensated with expensive lotions. And a small trip to correct the wrinkles now and then. There had been some longer trips as well, but that was another story. At the end of the day, it wasn’t easy to look youthful when hitting forty. She’d do what she had to. And that was exactly what she was doing.
Dinah performed an elegant dive into the pleasant water. Swimming was her thing. She swam daily; it was her way of keeping in shape.
An intense forty minutes later, she was content with her exercise for the day and got out of the pool, slightly out of breath. At ten o’clock it was still early, and she was the only guest outside.
She lay down on the sunbed to dry, and her thoughts went to Fiona. How perfect that her daughter had a summer job here, and she had something to do this summer. Two months for a summer vacation was a long time for a teenager. Dinah had considered traveling abroad as a family, but Remy had refused. He planned on working like he always did in the summer. How annoying that he never took time off. He was the boss, for goodness’ sake. He had the freedom to do what he wanted. No wonder his blood pressure was through the roof. It was impossible to work as much as he did without having to face some consequences. It was beyond belief that he didn’t get it.
Her smooth forehead furrowed. What was going on between Remy and the flower girl? And what had they been doing in the back room behind a closed door? Something was wrong. She hadn’t appreciated their facial expressions when she’d surprised them almost in each other’s arms. And she hadn’t received an explanation. She didn’t like it one bit. But she had her own agenda, she had to protect what was hers.
***
Isabella arranged the Persian buttercups into several large vases. They were her favorites. Full, layered flowers, in the most wonderful colors. Shades of pink, yellow, and orange that were nearly indescribable.
“How beautiful.”
She startled by the sound of Remy’s voice. “You’re right. My favorite flowers.”
“I can see why.”
Isabella had never met a man who’d shown an interest in flowers. She regarded him, baffled. He was so different, and he had so many contradicting qualities.
“Hi, Dad.” Fiona came over to her father.
“Everything’s going well?” Remy asked.
She nodded. “Are you here to make sure I don’t break any more vases?”
He shook his head vigorously. “Not at all. Mistakes are meant to teach us what not to do in the future. Everyone makes mistakes. The most important thing is how we deal with them and what we learn from them.”
Fiona relaxed.
“I’m here to discuss business with Isabella if she has the time,” Remy said.
Isabella hadn’t expected him so soon. She guessed he was curious. “Sure. Pernille can take over the flowers. And you can keep working on the gifts, Fiona.”
They went into the back room. “Coffee?” she asked.
“No thanks, I’m picky.”
That didn’t surprise her at all. It fit his image. He probably preferred special types of coffee, which Isabella didn’t even know the names of.
“You mentioned an idea.”
He was sitting way too close to her on the sofa, and she regretted not having gone for one of the chairs. But she’d been the first one to sit. She tried to concentrate. “Yes. It’s a challenge to get the locals to eat at your restaurant.”
His faint smile held a touch of sadness. “I can’t fathom why. The quality of the food is high, and the prices are reasonable. I’ve cut them as much as I can.”
“There are only two other eateries in town. Café Solside and Lombardi’s. Solvik is packed with summer tourists now, so the Flying Fish should be full, as should the outdoor service,” she said.
“I agree. We’ve seen an increase in the number of customers the last week, but we still have a long way to go.”
“I thought of something that might help. What about starting a cooking class? Or is it called a culinary class? I’m not familiar with the terminology.”
He seemed to ponder this.
“If the locals get to know you and the restaurant, it’s easier to come back some other time to eat,” she said. “Then they’ll praise your fabulous food, and their friends and relatives will want to try it. When they’ve been here once, there’s no doubt they’ll be back.”
He gave her a rare smile, but she was on a roll and continued, “A recognized chef like you, with so many chef hats, or whatever the stars are called, would definitely be a drawing card. You’ve got to take full advantage of it.”
All of a sudden, he pulled her close and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. She was caught so off guard that she stared at him. Almond-shaped eyes, that was what he had. His nearness made her short of breath, kept her heart pounding. She could still feel his soft lips on her cheek. She tried to force her thoughts toward something else, without luck.
She went and fetched two bottles of apple cider from the fridge. She took glasses out of the cupboard and put everything on the table. Then she filled the glasses and took a sip.
“Your suggestion is brilliant,” he said calmly. “But I want you to be there.”
“Me?” She could indeed use a cooking class or two, but he didn’t know that.
His brown eyes looked at her, decisively. “Yeah, you.”
The room was quiet for a moment. She wasn’t busy in the evenings. And she’d like to get to know more of the locals. It was about time she made some friends here.
“You seem to be good at handling people. I’m not.” Remy scratched his head, messing up his hair.
“But I don’t know how to cook. I love eating, but that doesn’t help much.” She smiled, abashed.
“That’s a marvelous starting point.”
She weighed her options. “Fine. I guess I can let myself be talked round.” She didn’t know how smart this was. It would mean even more contact with this eccentric chef. What would his wife say?
“Deal.” His gaze was triumphant.
“It has to be properly planned. We need to decide on days, the length, and the price. And how many participants you want. In addition to the marketing.”
“You seem to be an organized, young woman.”
Isabella took that as a compliment. She was organized, but not that young. However, everything was relative. Remy was ten years older than she was. The fact that Dinah looked like a twenty-year-old just made her smile and shake her head.
Remy finished his drink. “I have to get back to the restaurant. Can we meet tonight?”
She inclined her head. “It takes time to plan this and get everything going. Where should we meet?”
“Not at the restaurant. I don’t know exactly when Dinah and Fiona eat dinner.”
She thought it strange that he didn’t eat with his family, but the chef might not be able to join them, as long as he had a job to do. On the other hand, he had a sous chef and several other cooks, so he didn’t have to work around the clock. The proof was him sitting here with her now, in the middle of lunch service. It was obvious that someone else was managing the kitchen when he was unavailable.
“We can meet at a conference room, or here.” It didn’t matter to her where they met.
“Here. When is good for you?”
“Whenever.” It didn’t take long to make a sandwich on her counter at home. She preferred quick meals when she was on her own.
“Seven o’clock?”
“Fine.”
They went into the shop and saw that Dinah was about to leave. “So, this is where you are.” Her voice was mildly irritated, despite her beaming face. “We’re about to have lunch. Do you have time to eat with us, darling?” Dinah was almost as tall as her husband and gave him a quick red kiss on his lips.
He freed himself and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sorry, I have to work.”
“In that case, we can enjoy ourselves on my balcony tonight. There’s champagne in the suite.” She winked flirtatiously and disappeared, with her daughter following right behind.
Remy’s face was rigid when he nodded at Isabella. “See you.”
She smiled, amused by these odd people, and went back to the counter to continue work.
“Quite a family.”
Isabella turned around. “Kitty, what are you doing here? I didn’t see you.”
Her grandma laughed heartily. “It’s handy being small. I was in the shop when madam entered. I don’t like eavesdropping, but I couldn’t avoid it.”
Isabella snickered. If someone loved getting involved in other people’s business, it was Kitty.
“Where’s King?”
“At home. He’s better off staying there.” She looked a little sad, so Isabella hugged her. This was one of the few times she’d seen Kitty without the dog, and she knew how much he meant to her.
“You’re right.”
“The restaurant manager is a tough guy. My dear Freddy never could’ve compared to him. He wasn’t even able to make coffee. What’s worse, he didn’t have charisma. Freddy was just a normal guy, plain and simple.”
Isabella thought this sounded gloomy but knew what she meant. Men who were special were rare.
“I think he likes you, Isabella,” said Kitty and patted her arm soothingly.
She looked at her, appalled. “Grandma. He’s married. Very married.”
“No, he’s not that married. It just looks like that at first sight.”
“What do you mean?”
“I suspect their marriage is almost over,” said Kitty.
Isabella hid a smile. “And what do you base that on?”
Grandma looked at her in a furtive way and lowered her voice, as customers had entered the shop. “My eyes are working just fine. He doesn’t seem interested in Dinah, but you.”
Isabella covered her mouth to hide a gasp, but Kitty had already turned on her heels and was on her way out the door.
Isabella had so much to mull over that she forgot to stop at the bakery on her way home from work. Could Kitty’s words be true? Was their marriage in trouble? And if so, who was not happy? Remy, like Kitty suggested? Dinah seemed eager enough. It had to be Remy. But he wasn’t interested in Isabella. That wasn’t her impression. Or maybe he was. She’d thought his attentive and intense look was his usual expression, but now she was unsure. Well, it didn’t matter anyway. It didn’t appeal to her to open her heart and get to know a new man. Not after her last nightmare of a relationship. She was happy on her own and loved being able to do as she pleased. She didn’t miss a man in her life. What she did miss was being in love and having someone to snuggle up to on long, dark nights. And the little longing she felt wasn’t enough to make her change her mind. Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about Remy.
Her fingers were shaking when she opened her mailbox. What if there was another envelope? The thought had crossed her mind several times throughout the day, so she’d kept busy. She’d never been particularly nervous, but after all the issues with Bob, she became easily frightened. What if she didn’t check the mailbox? She could let the mail gather and hope for the best. The letters could lie there for a week or so. No bills had to be paid that fast.
The temptation was great, but it wouldn’t buy her much time. And she preferred dealing with problems as soon as they arose. If this could even be called a problem. It might be nothing. She decided to get it over with.
Isabella noticed she was holding her breath when she lifted the lid and looked in the mailbox. Empty! She breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness. Then it was nothing to worry about.
Delighted, she ran up the stairs and unlocked the door to her apartment. The first thing she saw was a white envelope on the floor, right inside her door. She stared at it, wide-eyed, and gasped, panting in terror. How had it gotten here? Had someone been at her place? The thought was so terrifying that she had to sit down and collect her thoughts. The envelope was just inside her door. If someone had been in her apartment, they would have put it on the kitchen table, wouldn’t they?
She picked it up from the floor to get a closer look. The envelope wasn’t white any longer. It was dirty and somewhat crumpled, so the envelope must have been pushed in under the door. She contemplated not opening it but felt a strong urge to know what was inside. She couldn’t live in uncertainty. It was better to know so she could take precautions, if necessary.
This envelope wasn’t sealed either, only closed. She had no control over her hands; they moved all by themselves. There was a white sheet of paper inside. She took it out and read, ‘Isabella. I’m watching you.’
She plopped down on the bench. Another letter with the same message! She didn’t know if she was relieved, or even more worried. Perhaps both. At least the message wasn’t worse than in the previous letter. On the other hand, it was a reinforcement of the message, since the same letter had been delivered twice.
What if it was the same letter? She had a tiny hope it was and went into the living room and over to the bookshelf. She’d put the first envelope in between two books, to avoid being reminded of the unpleasantness. No, of course, she wasn’t that lucky. The envelope was there. She’d received two identical letters.
She felt wobbly and lay on the sofa. Who was behind this? And why didn’t they make themselves known? It was exhausting getting obnoxious surprises like this. Was it Bob’s doing? He was clever at psyching her out, but she hadn’t heard from him after moving to Solvik. She thought he’d finally accepted the breakup.
Was it Dinah? The look she’d received when the madam left the shop earlier today was far from heartfelt. Dinah would have had enough time to push the envelope under Isabella’s door if she wanted to scare her. Or warn her. That must have been her intention.