Chapter 10
Evie
“This place has a great view.” Evie sat down at the table over-looking the sea and smoothed her dress.
She was jumpy and on edge and really wishing she’d said no when he’d invited her to dinner.
Better to imagine the romance they could have had than actually have one and live through another painful and awkward ending.
Not only that, but this time they’d have to carry on working together.
Still, it had been a while since she’d given the village entertainment, so at least someone would benefit.
She was going to enjoy herself and not spend the evening glancing around her to check she didn’t know anyone else in the restaurant. She was going to stop thinking about what had happened the last time she’d dated someone.
Luca had arrived moments before her, so she hadn’t had time to check her reflection in the mirror, smooth her hair or reapply her lipstick.
Abby had talked her out of the linen dress and had also talked her out of wearing something understated so that she was less likely to be noticed.
What had she said? You’re dating a hot guy so you should look hot.
Which was why Evie was now sitting here in her hot-pink dress, wearing a matching hot-pink lipstick.
Thanks, Abby.
Wishing she’d had something beige and nondescript in her wardrobe, she cast a single look over his shoulder.
“Is the coast clear?” Luca was watching her with laughter in his eyes and she felt bad.
He had the kind of face most women would happily gaze at all day.
And she was looking over his shoulder.
“Sorry. It’s a reflex. I can’t help it. If I suddenly dive under the table don’t take it personally.”
“You don’t think that would draw attention?”
“I don’t know, and if I’m under the table I won’t be able to see it.” The glass doors were open and she could smell the sea. “This place is brilliant. Have you been here before?”
“It’s my first time. You?”
“My first time, too. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date. Not that I’m saying this is a date,” she said hastily, “obviously I’m here because I need your grandmother’s recipe for chicken. And you’re probably here because I’m the only single woman under the age of thirty-five in the village.”
“That’s not why I’m here. And my grandmother’s recipe for chicken is a closely guarded secret.” His gaze lingered on hers for a moment and then he glanced at the menu. “Shall we go for their set menu?”
“You mean so you can sample as many dishes as possible and work out which ones you’re going to modify and use at The Alexandra? Go for it. I’m up for the challenge.”
They ordered and Evie forced herself to relax and keep her eyes on him and not on the door of the restaurant. It was such a long time since she’d been on a date she’d forgotten how to do small talk. Was she supposed to flirt? Entertain him with her witty conversation?
She didn’t usually find herself short of words, but it had been a while since she’d been on her own with a man as attractive as Luca.
After Martin she’d felt too raw and vulnerable to even consider dating again.
She’d focused on herself, throwing herself into her hobbies, her work, her friendships.
In the five years since that relationship had crashed and burned, no one had given her a reason to rethink that approach. Until now.
“Do you miss London?”
“What a question to ask when we’re sitting in front of a view like this.
” He glanced at the ocean, lapping at the sand below the restaurant.
“No, I don’t miss it. It was the right thing to do at the time, and great experience, but it was never my longterm goal.
I wanted more control. I wanted to create my own menus, have a chance to implement my own ideas.
Experiment. And I want to attract real foodies. ”
“You couldn’t do that in London?”
“To an extent, but it’s hard to stand out in London and often the people who eat there aren’t even noticing the food.
They choose a place because they read a review online, or a celebrity has been spotted there and suddenly it’s the place to be seen, and then they pick at their food and send most of it back to the kitchen.
You could argue that as long as they’ve paid, it doesn’t matter. But it matters to me.”
“Of course it matters. When you care passionately about something, it matters. I can’t imagine anyone sending back food you’ve made. Clearly they need major help. I’m more likely to be thrown out for licking my plate clean.”
He laughed. “Have you ever thought of being a food critic? I licked the plate clean is probably the dream review for most chefs.”
“It’s a bit basic though, isn’t it?” She felt herself start to relax. “Aren’t you supposed to rabbit on about a fusion of flavours and textures?”
“Probably. But in the end the only thing that matters is that the diner leaves feeling they’ve eaten the best meal of their life. I want them to be so focused on the food they don’t notice the celebrity at the next table.”
The way he was smiling at her made her insides flutter.
“The Alexandra is lucky to have you.”
“Maybe. Time will tell.” He shrugged. “They’re certainly lucky to have you.”
“Me? I’m not sure about that.” His comment flustered her. “I’m different from Gerald.”
“I never met Gerald, but unless he has blond hair and looks good in hot pink, I can imagine you are different.”
She laughed. “He’s late fifties and he doesn’t have much hair at all. But I meant in management style. And experience. I don’t have a lot of experience, but I do have tons of enthusiasm. I’m not sure if that counts for much.”
“It counts for a lot.” He put his glass down. “It’s an appealing trait.”
“It is? Usually it annoys people. Mandy says it’s like having an out-of-control labrador puppy in the room.
And the problem is that I have ideas, but experienced people kill them all the time.
We tried that back in 1998 and it didn’t work.
Or, more often, Gerald always did it this way.
” She hadn’t intended to confide, but he seemed to understand in the same way that Abby did. He saw the bigger picture. He saw her.
“That must be frustrating.”
“Occasionally it is.”
“And yet still you smile.”
“On the outside, yes. Sometimes on the inside I’m screaming.”
“That’s why I made you lunch. Good food is a way of calming inside screaming.”
How did he know her so well? “Am I that easy to read?”
“No. But I’ve been paying attention.”
She swallowed. “You do that with people?”
“Not generally.”
But he did it with her. He’d paid attention to her.
She felt warm inside and the way he was looking at her took her breath away. “The hotel has definitely improved since you turned up.”
“Ah, the hotel.” He smiled, as if he’d actually forgotten about the hotel. “Do you see yourself staying longterm? What do you want?”
She wanted the same thing he wanted. More control. The opportunity to implement her own ideas. The chance to experiment. When she’d been asked to step up and be acting general manager she’d thought maybe this was her chance, but it hadn’t turned out the way she’d planned.
She was little more than a caretaker.
But that was far too much information to share with someone who was essentially a colleague.
“I want to be able to make a difference. The way you feel about your restaurant is the way I feel about the hotel,” she said.
“I want guests to leave feeling as if it was the best stay they’ve ever had anywhere.
If we get a bad review, I’m heartbroken.
I spend hours figuring out what we could have done differently for that person. It takes me weeks to recover from it.”
“Because your feelings are hurt?”
“What? No! Because someone didn’t have a great holiday. Holidays are precious, aren’t they? I don’t want people feeling disappointed when they leave. If that happens then I basically haven’t done my job well, and I very much want to. This place means a lot to me.”
“You never thought about moving away?”
Not until recently.
She thought about the email that had been waiting for her in her inbox that morning.
She’d be invited for an interview the following week. And it would be virtual, so she wouldn’t have to make up excuses for disappearing for a day.
She’d told no one, of course. There seemed no point at this stage.
She probably wouldn’t get the job. Her experience was limited to this one hotel which she knew might put her at a disadvantage.
She was tempted to discuss it with Luca.
He’d worked in a London hotel. It would have been useful to talk through his experience and see what she could learn.
But it was unfair to put him in that position. The moment any of the staff got wind of the fact she was considering leaving, things would be awkward.
The only person she might be able to tell would be Abby. Not because she wasn’t a permanent member of the team and therefore telling her didn’t have the same implications, but because she always gave thoughtful, measured answers to problems. She’d be telling her as a friend, not a colleague.
Maybe she’d do that. Or maybe she’d wait to see what happened after the first interview.
And in the meantime, Luca was waiting for an answer. “The Alexandra feels like home to me.” It was true. It did feel like home. At certain points in her life she’d spent more time in the hotel than her actual home. But people left home, didn’t they? They didn’t stay forever.
How would she feel about leaving this place?
She gazed out across the ocean. She’d lived right beside it all her life. She couldn’t imagine being immersed in city life, her view all steel and glass. But the hotel she’d applied to was perched on the edge of one of London’s most famous parks, so she’d have plenty of green space.
Their food arrived, course after delicious course, and they ate their way through a delicate crab tart, monkfish, and a pumpkin and sage ravioli.