part0018

Isabella was glad when the day was over. With a lot of help from Fiona, they’d prepared hundreds of envelopes, stuck on addresses and stamps, and sent them off in the mail. In a few days, young and old would get discounts for the whole shop, both on gifts and flowers. The ad showed alluring pictures of their new French giftware collection. The true Mediterranean style would do the trick.

She looked at the lovely products that were placed on a separate table. Bowls, vases, candlesticks, small candle holders and matching napkins. Every item was white, with appropriate words in romantic black calligraphy. She wanted everything for herself but would have to settle for admiring it in the shop. There wasn’t much space in her small apartment.

“Look at this,” Kitty said eagerly and walked closer to the table. “How pretty.” She picked up a bowl. Isabella was pleased King wasn’t with her today. It was better he stayed at home.

Kitty nodded, making her white curls dance about. “That was smart. People have to be lured to visit, you know. They’re skeptical of everything new.” She wrinkled her tiny nose. For someone who was always open to new things, this was an incomprehensible thought. Isabella adored her active grandma.

Isabella sighed. Kitty was bright, and she was everywhere. It was only a matter of time before she knew every detail.

“Well, it’s an attempt to get more guests to eat at the restaurant. I’m going to put these up around town.” She showed Kitty the invitation.

“Clever thinking. Many people will want to join. Especially when it’s the hot chef who’ll teach the class,” she said and winked.

“My dear Freddy was everything that guy is not. He was short, his muscles were invisible, and his hair disappeared long before it should’ve. Remy has enough hair for the both of them,” Kitty concluded.

Isabella’s thoughts went to his marvelous hair, and her face turned even redder from the memories. Kitty didn’t let the opportunity pass.

Kitty hesitated. “Maybe you’re right. She caused a terrible commotion with the sprained ankle, I must say. You should’ve heard her at the spa last night, ordering the therapists about. And then she demanded freshly squeezed mango juice. They’d offered her everything except mango. Who buys mangos in our country? They’re delicious but so expensive.”

“‘My husband, the master chef, is guaranteed to have mangos in his restaurant’, the madam went on.” Kitty snickered. “But Annabel handled it.”

“Yes, she’s the one in charge at the spa. Tony doesn’t get much done. He’s too busy with his own self-development.”

“My sister is betting on husband and child. One husband and one child. It’s been worse...” She looked at Kitty, and they burst into a fit of giggles. “What a family.”

“I have to close the shop now and deliver the invitations. The class will start later this week.” She prepared to leave.

“You sure are organized. I need to get going, King is waiting for me. He has to stay at home after the chaos he caused last time. He’s grounded.”

An hour later, Isabella had stopped by the grocery, Sweet Temptations and Café Solside. Everyone had welcomed her, and the invitations had been hung on the bulletin boards while they were chatting. Even Vera had a positive attitude toward the class, even though it could increase competition, something she pointed out several times.

Miranda had talked to her at the knitting café and told her what an honor it was to have a celebrity chef in tiny Solvik. It would make the town known and attract more tourists, something that would also benefit the café, she’d assured Vera.

When the older woman saw the photo of Remy on the invitation, she was exceedingly impressed by all the recognition and awards he’d received over the last few years. Isabella had included the most important ones, but there were plenty.

Isabella was counting on people hearing about the class while they were having dinner tonight. The rest would learn about it the following day when grocery shopping or visiting the bakery. Sara assured her that if Vera was supportive, it was only a matter of hours before the whole town was informed.

Isabella slumped onto the sofa at home, happy the unknown envelopes had ceased to arrive. She felt more optimistic than she had in a long time. It must have been Dinah who wanted to scare her.

She’d bought a slice of apple pie and a cinnamon bun at the bakery and decided to eat it for dinner. She’d spend the night enjoying her puzzle. Nothing would interrupt her, except people signing up for the class.

She made a cup of coffee and sat at the dining table, where the puzzle pieces were spread out. She picked up a blue violet and looked at the cover to locate it. Her thoughts started drifting, the way they always did when solving a puzzle.

Her family was truly peculiar. Her father had been the most ambitious of them all. It was in the hotel business he’d made a fortune. The disease that had put an end to all his plans had come abruptly, according to his lawyer. Still, he’d had time to sell the other hotels he owned. Sea Breeze Hotel & Spa was the only hotel he’d kept. It hadn’t even been completed when he passed away. Most of the hotel had been ready, so they were able to open two months after his passing.

What a shock it had been for all of them. None of his children had had a close relationship with their father while growing up. He had prioritized his job before family activities. She wasn’t bitter but felt deprived of a father who should have been there for them.

Their mother wasn’t the motherly type, either, so it would have been sad if they hadn’t had Kitty to turn to. Their grandma was loving and caring, and always present. She was there for them, and they loved her. Isabella blinked back the tears that always threatened to spill when she thought of Kitty.

“Hello, Emmelin Johnsen here. I’m a friend of Sara’s. She told me about a cooking class I ought to take.”

“How nice. I talked to Sara at the bakery earlier today, when I handed over the invitation to the class.” Isabella took a sip of her coffee that was getting cold.

“Well, Sara is of the opinion that I need to learn how to cook. And she’s right. I have no clue, other than the basics.”

“Actually, we’re only charging for the cost of the food. The class is an introductory offer to familiarize people with the restaurant. At the same time, you’ll learn basic techniques enabling you to cook at home on busy weeknights.”

Isabella ended the conversation with Emmelin and tried to recall what Miranda had told her about her. Wasn’t she the one who ran a travel agency? Isabella liked her and couldn’t wait for the class to start.

She decided to celebrate the first enrollment. She took a box of vanilla ice cream from the freezer and put a few scoops in a bowl. Then she reheated the apple pie in the microwave for a few seconds. Mmm, apple pie and ice cream. She couldn’t think of anything better. Satisfied, she went back to the dining table and picked up another piece of the puzzle. What a great start to the night.

July arrived, and the summer was at its best with scattered clouds in an otherwise blue sky and temperatures that felt silky on the skin. Isabella wished she had a window overlooking something other than the lobby and front desk area. She was looking straight at a group of sofas, where hotel guests were sitting, chatting.

The Sea Star bar was across from the restaurant, and she could see it from the big shop window. Her sister, Miranda, had a magnificent view of the sea. She envied her view, but not her job. To run a hotel had never been Isabella’s dream. She wanted to use her creativity to create something, like flower arrangements that were slightly unusual. She liked combining flowers and plants that weren’t common in other shops. Add a twig here and there, or some green straws, to freshen it up.

Flower arrangements didn’t have to be boring. There were so many new materials nowadays, so much that could be mixed with the traditional. She’d attended an interesting course before moving here. It had given her lots of ideas and inspiration for unique gifts. It didn’t take much to create a beautiful decoration for the coffee table. Neither did it have to be expensive. Some twigs, a few flowers, and voilà, a simple, yet elegant creation.

They not only offered flower arrangements though. The goal was to get the locals to buy bouquets. Cut flowers they could put in vases at home, and which would lighten up any dark den. Isabella loved big, abundant flowers that demanded a lot of space. Nothing was lovelier than a bunch of Persian buttercups in gorgeous colors. Or peonies in shades of pink.

She gazed at the window display, filled with different flowers. It was an overwhelming sight. She felt her eyes getting moist. This was her dream, and it had come true.

Isabella hid a smile behind her hand. “I heard. The whole point is to attract the locals. Or tempt them, so they might come back and eat with friends and family when the class is over.”

“I know. Mom doesn’t care about cooking. She just wants attention. And to be where things happen,” Fiona said.

And watch her husband. That was more like it. The young girl was observant. She was most likely right, but it wasn’t Isabella’s job to correct her. Better to be friends with her, and let the parents take care of that.

“Are you ready for lunch, Fiona?” Dinah came striding into the room on high heels, her injured ankle miraculously healed. She towered over Isabella, who was wearing sensible flats. Heels were not an option when she was on her feet at the shop all day. There were limits to how much discomfort she’d bring upon herself.

Dinah’s hair was newly styled, and her makeup touched up. Anyone would feel inferior next to her. Perfume had been generously applied. A sensual and exotic scent filled the already fragrant shop.

“My husband, the master chef, is going to make something out of the ordinary for us today. Like he often does. Shall we go, Fiona?” she simpered at Isabella before leading the way out the door. Her daughter followed obediently.

Isabella grinned. “I finally understand the difference between a lady and a woman. Dinah is definitely a lady.”

“In here.” She walked into the back room. “Aren’t you preparing a special lunch for your family as we speak?” she asked innocently while suppressing her laughter.

He considered this. “I am? It must be one of Dinah’s notions,” he concluded dryly. “How did it go yesterday?”

Remy brightened. “Brilliant.” He pulled her swiftly toward him and held her tight. The reserved man had a habit of doing things she didn’t expect. She put her arms around him and couldn’t resist the temptation of letting her hands slide up and down his strong back. Oh, such firm back muscles.

“I’m not going to kiss you.” Remy let go of her, and she felt let down. A kiss was exactly what she’d been hoping for.

She was left behind, thinking. What did he want? And what did she want? They’d never talked about the chemistry between them. But it was present, growing every time they were together. She was the one who had been holding back and doubted whether he was ready. Was that why he hadn’t kissed her? Was he a true gentleman who considered her wishes? In that case, she only had herself to thank. She kept pondering a while longer before breaking into a wide smile. At least he wasn’t catering to his wife in the kitchen.

The next few days were busy. Isabella had started seeing a small increase in the customers visiting Anemone, and she hoped the ads she’d sent out were the reason. She’d received lots of signups for the cooking class that was to take place the night after. Several had sent her text messages. She’d given them the choice of calling or texting. Remy would be pleasantly surprised when he heard the outcome. She hadn’t talked to him in two days as he’d had his hands full planning the menu. She didn’t mind. She needed time to analyze her feelings for him.

Isabella looked at the registration sheet. The class was full. And the rest were on a waiting list for the next classes. She didn’t know any of them, except for Emmelin. Only one man wanted to learn how to cook. Robert Thorsen was his name. Poor guy, alone among all the women. She hoped he would be well received.

Isabella changed into a swimsuit and shorts. Celine and Patricia had talked her into joining them for a swim. It was still warm outside, and a swim in the evening was delightful in the summer. She packed a bag of sweet cherries and put them in the cooler next to her water bottle.

The little girl was dancing about in a turquoise bikini. “We’ve been waiting for you for hours !” She’d put on too much sparkling lip-gloss, and Isabella had to remove her hair from her sticky mouth.

“But I was fast. I just had to get changed.” Isabella looked at the pile of stuff they were taking and gave up the idea of walking to the beach.

An hour later, they were sitting in beach chairs, drying off after a swim. Isabella felt wonderfully relaxed. Patricia was building a sandcastle down by the water, playing with a redheaded girl her age.

“I agree. It’s great not having to deal with Patricia’s winter season’s layers of clothes, hats and gloves and this and that. Boots and dirt getting dragged into the apartment.” Celine was wearing a sun hat and dark sunglasses, watching the people on the beach.

“No, I can’t say that I am. I love Patricia, but it would be very different to have children of my own. It’s nice to be the fun aunt she can play with.”

“You won’t miss it later?” Celine was still not convinced about the common sense of her sister’s decision.

Isabella stared at her phone and could barely believe what she was seeing. “It’s the same message as in the envelopes I received. I thought it was all over...”

Then it dawned on her. “Of course. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that! How stupid can one get?” She was annoyed at her carelessness.

“No, but I should’ve remembered something that important.” She was distraught. What a way to tell the whole world about her whereabouts.

They both thought for a few moments, without reaching a reasonable conclusion. “The only positive thing is that it’s less unpleasant to receive a text message than an envelope. Because the envelope is delivered straight to my door, while the text could’ve been sent from the other side of the country.” She knew it was poor consolation, of the emotional kind.

Isabella tossed and turned in bed that night. She’d contemplated calling Remy to tell him what had happened. But it didn’t feel right to bother him with her problems. He had enough to deal with as it was. She’d talk to him at work tomorrow instead.

She left the bed and fetched one of the sleeping pills the doctor had prescribed after all the trouble with Bob last year. It would come in handy tonight. She swallowed it with a glass of water and went to bed again. Not long after, she began drifting off. The last thing she remembered was the face of her ex-boyfriend.