‘And anyway, with no offence meant to anyone, I prefer to be here.’ Scarlett let her gaze rove over the room. It was small, simply furnished with a sofa that pulled out into a bed, a tiny dining table with two chairs, a kitchenette and a bathroom with a washing machine tucked behind a door at the far end.
Certainly Scarlett’s apartment back in Melbourne had been much roomier, and her mother’s villa heaps roomier again. Well, she’d sublet her apartment.
And this little bedsit tucked onto the end of a widow’s house was clean and neat and serviceable. It would meet Scarlett’s requirements for her stay in Italy. Most of all she could be private here at the end of the day. Scarlett wanted to reconnect with her family, but she needed some kind of bolt hole! ‘I need my own space sometimes, Izzie. Anyway, by the time Mum turns up again I could be halfway through my stay. What she doesn’t know…’
‘Won’t cause an outburst?’ Isabella shook her head. ‘Have you really forgotten that much of what it’s like to be part of a big family with all the related tensions and nosiness and everything else? I know you have your father and his relatives in Australia, but have you also forgotten what Lisa can be like when she unleashes her sharp tongue? Your mamma will hear about you moving out within days, if not sooner.’ A hint of annoyance leaked into Isabella’s tone.
It wasn’t directed at Scarlett, and Scarlett knew this. They were all less than happy with Lisa after the way she’d behaved towards her brother Luca recently.
‘I haven’t forgotten. Mamma hasn’t spoken with my father, even on the phone, since I turned eighteen, but I remember a few of the calls before then. Mum shouting and my father looking as though he’d like to tear his hair out by the end of it.’
Dad had made a good home for her when she decided at twelve that she wanted to go to him in Australia. It had taken time for Scarlett to let herself really love Brad Gibson. She’d been an unhappy, upset child at the time, but they’d got there. Her father was a good man.
Scarlett went on. ‘The bedsit is perfect, Izzie.’ She gestured about her. ‘It’s literally less than five minutes’ walk from Rosa.’ Scarlett walked to the opened door and glanced out. ‘In fact, you can see the restaurant from here, if you stand in the part that isn’t screened by the overhead lintel and all that flowering creeper. Anyway, shall we go? I need to get to work. I’ll unpack tonight.’
Scarlett reached once again for her laptop computer and purse. She perched a pair of sunglasses on her nose. With her eyes shielded from view she felt somewhat better.
‘I have an errand to run before I drop by the restaurant.’ Isabella gave a soft smile. ‘It’s just a little something I’m picking up. A photo of me that I had framed.’
‘To give to your prince when you meet up later?’ Scarlett asked teasingly, and smiled when Isabella blushed.
Isabella smiled, too, and while she was still smiling she said, ‘Speaking of photos, Jackie’s got heaps of her daughter now. You should—’
‘I don’t have time to look at photos.’ The rejection shot out of Scarlett’s mouth before she even realised how trapped Isabella’s suggestion had made her feel. Scarlett found it hard to think about the daughter her sister, Jackie, had given up for adoption.
Because she’d thought, and thought, and thought about it over the years and the more she did that, the deeper her guilt seemed to lodge itself. Scarlett had avoided contact with Izzie and Jackie for years because of this.
Now they were back in contact, and Scarlett did want to be closer.
But a part of her also wanted to demand to know if her cousin truly thought getting over something like that long separation and loss could be so simple for Jackie? So easy? That Scarlett’s sister would miraculously have forgotten all the years of feeling as if there’d been a hole left inside her just because now she had her lover back in her life, and some contact with her daughter, Kate? After all, Scarlett and, to a lesser degree, Isabella, had caused Jackie’s loss!
Before Scarlett could speak or do otherwise, the sound of a motorcycle echoed through the square.
‘I didn’t think he’d be in this early.’ How stupid, to get all breathless just from the sight of Lorenzo across the square. It must be because he’d made it necessary for her to assert her authority yesterday.
‘You recognise him from that distance?’ Isabella seemed surprised.
‘Who else would it be?’ Scarlett dodged having to explain that she and Lorenzo had known each other five years ago, and had more than simply known each other. They’d kept the relationship secret and Scarlett wasn’t about to reveal anything about it now. ‘I mean, he’s gone to the restaurant, it’s a man and he is reasonably recognisable even at this distance.’
‘I suppose so.’ Isabella followed Scarlett’s glance. ‘Lorenzo did well yesterday, didn’t he?’
Praise for the head chef wasn’t quite what Scarlett had been expecting. She said carefully, ‘The diners seemed happy enough with their meals.’
‘Oh, I’m sure they all would have been.’ Isabella waved a hand as though to dismiss this. ‘But I meant with that special order for lunch for twelve people. It was very last minute, but Lorenzo was sure he could pull it off. I wouldn’t have been able to. Not with the things on the menu.’
Oblivious to Scarlett’s surprise, Isabella went on. ‘The movie star was happy, though. One of the kitchen hands made the delivery and Lorenzo said at the prices he insisted on to do the catering, the restaurant will have cleaned up on it financially.’
A movie star?
A last-minute order for a special lunch for twelve people?
This was the reason why Lorenzo hadn’t come immediately to yesterday’s meeting?
Why hadn’t he said so? Scarlett stared at her cousin as yesterday’s impressions realigned themselves. ‘I wasn’t aware—’
‘I thought Lorenzo would have explained it to you. He’d just finished tempering the chocolate rolls when he asked me to take over while he had his meeting with you. I was a nervous wreck even in that short span of time. I can cope with our regular menu, but that?’ Isabella’s eyes glazed over as she started listing dishes.
‘Chocolate tart, limone mousse, a chocolate and hazelnut gateau, vanilla and raspberry chiffon cake, lime-custard-stuffed profiteroles, built into a profiterole tree if you please, and that was only one course of the menu.’ She drew a breath. ‘Even with the meeting with you in the middle of it, Lorenzo managed and got flawless results.’
‘Oh.’ Scarlett found herself in the rare position of feeling as though she hadn’t really behaved appropriately in relation to her work, that she’d perhaps brought personal issues into it and allowed those to colour her judgement. That she’d been hard on Lorenzo and hadn’t really given him a chance to explain things. That was bad management on her part, and, no matter what her personal feelings might be towards him, he’d shown dedication and commitment to Rosa.
‘Well, I’d better get going.’ Isabella gave her a quick hug again. ‘See you in a while.’ She walked off.
‘Yes. See you.’ Scarlett frowned and started towards the restaurant.
It appears I may have misjudged you yesterday, Lorenzo. Scarlett practised the words in her mind as she pushed open one of the kitchen’s swing doors. Lorenzo might have played her false five years ago, and Scarlett wasn’t about to forget that. But when Scarlett made a mistake in her work,