Chapter 30
THIRTY
‘I am going to miss you.’
The past few weeks have rolled around in the blink of an eye, and suddenly the time has arrived for us to say goodbye to Summer.
Summer almost squeezes the life out of me as she hugs me tightly.
‘Oh, I will miss you too,’ she says, wiping tears from her eyes. ‘All of you. I could not have asked for better people to work with.’
We are gathered in the breakfast room early, before we head to our respective posts. Summer has been presented with a pretty overnight bag containing toiletries and a Cinderella travel mug.
‘Fitting for a soon-to-be Disney princess,’ I tell Summer.
‘It’s perfect,’ says Summer, hugging me once more.
I bought a cake from a local bakery and asked the chef in the hotel kitchen to decorate it with the words Bon Voyage, complete with a lit candle on the top. Cue more tears from Summer.
When she finally departs, I walk away with Kai towards the pool area.
‘So, you haven’t been asked to do the kids’ disco then now that Summer has gone?’ teases Kai.
‘Nope. It seems a new starter is more than up for that. She used to work at a play centre, loves kids apparently.’
‘I’ll miss Summer’s energy,’ says Kai as we walk past the outdoor area of the restaurant, where several diners are enjoying a cooling drink. ‘I don’t think I ever saw her in a bad mood.’
‘Me neither,’ I agree. ‘I guess she is just one of life’s happy people.’
‘Just as well really. Imagine being called Summer and being a right old misery guts,’ I say and Kai throws his head back and laughs.
‘I remember a girl called Chastity who certainly never lived up to her name,’ he recalls. ‘Best not to go there.’
‘I bet you did though.’ I raise an eyebrow and he nudges me playfully.
‘You make me laugh,’ he says. ‘Beauty, and a sense of humour. And you’re smart. You must be hiding something.’
‘It’s the webbed feet. It explains my aptitude for swimming.’
‘Not true. I’ve seen you in the pool.’ He shakes his head before he disappears.
I take my spot at the kids’ pool when I spot Takis walking towards me, and I feel the familiar stirring inside me. He is wearing khaki shorts and a white T-shirt, looking cool in more ways than one.
‘Kalimera, how are you this morning?’ he asks, as he removes his sunglasses and places them on his head.
‘Good, thanks. A little sad to see Summer leave, but she has landed her dream job, so good for her.’
‘It is always better to be doing a job that you love,’ he agrees.
‘Do you love your work?’ I ask. ‘Although who wouldn’t. I bet it doesn’t feel like work sailing the beautiful Aegean waters.’
‘There was a time when I did not want to go out on the boat,’ he tells me, just as a trio of children in armbands bound towards the pool area. ‘But maybe that is a story for another time.’
I feel a pang as I know what he is referring to, and wonder whether I ought to offer my condolences, but I don’t want to push him.
‘Of course.’ I say with a warm smile. ‘Well, have a good day.’
‘Actually before I go,’ says Takis. ‘I don’t have much on later today. Do you want a hand tidying the garden at the café?’
‘Really? Yes, that would be a massive help, thank you.’
‘No problem. I enjoy gardening. I could maybe head down later before I take a couple out on an evening sail.’
‘I am really grateful. Many hands make light work, and all of that. Although I would say it is more manual labour at the moment, as opposed to gardening.’
‘No problem,’ he says easily. ‘Happy to help.’
After my morning shift, I head to the café in the lemon grove, wondering whether Takis might still be there. I stop at the bakery en route to pick up some slices of baklava and bottles of iced cold water.
I almost drop the drinks on the floor when I spot Takis, topless, his shirt abandoned over a low stone wall, as he sweeps up some branches.
I watch open-mouthed, taking in his impressive six pack as he stops and wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.
I am almost rooted to the spot, watching his broad shoulders and tanned torso, before he pulls me out of my daydream.
‘Ah Erin, perfect timing,’ he says, walking towards me before taking one of the ice-cold drinks and glugging it down. ‘I take it they are for the workers.’
‘Yes, um, of course.’ I stumble over my words, hardly knowing where to look.
Jack has left, but the two labourers emerge from finishing up a few jobs inside and take the drinks gratefully. One of them says something in Greek to Takis as he pats his stomach.
‘He says no cake,’ laughs Takis. ‘His wife thinks he is getting fat.’
‘Oh dear. I hope it isn’t down to the morning pastries.’ I pull a face. ‘Maybe I had better stick to bringing melon.’
‘Hey, don’t include all of us in that,’ says Takis, helping himself to a slice of sticky baklava. ‘There are plenty of ways to work off those extra calories.’ He smiles cheekily.
‘Have you come across any wildlife?’ I ask him, keen to avert my eyes from his chest. I wish he would put his shirt back on. Really I do.
‘Nope, apart from the odd spider, but that is to be expected.’
‘Actually, I don’t mind spiders.’ I open the side gate that leads to the garden. I almost gasp at the transformation.
The once wild garden has been cut back, revealing an olive tree at its centre. A few broken fence panels have been replaced and a stone bird bath has been revealed, a sweet bird statue sitting on top. Covered in lichen, it looks authentically aged.
‘I didn’t clean it in case you like the rustic look,’ says Takis as if reading my thoughts. ‘Although it can be spruced up in no time if you like.’
‘I know what you mean about the rustic look, but maybe it will look even prettier cleaned up,’ I decide.
‘Whatever you desire,’ he says.
Why does everything he says seem suggestive?
I glance around the patio area that has been jet-washed, the canopy above sparkling, and I spot grape vines trailing down the sides.
‘Those grape vines were hidden away too,’ says Takis, pointing upwards. I am thrilled to see the vines already bursting with small white grapes.
‘Oh wow. Maybe I will start making my own wine.’
‘Nice idea. Although you do know it is only a few euros in the supermarket,’ he reminds me.
‘True enough. And maybe the café will get so busy, I won’t have the time.’ I wink.
‘Well, it does look very inviting from the outside.’
‘It does. The team have done a great job. And you too, Takis, thank you.’
‘It was my pleasure. There is a little more to do, but I am happy to help when I am free.’
We walk around to the front of the café and I glance upwards. The café is almost framed by the lemon trees, their branches blowing softly in a light breeze.
‘Just one more thing, I guess: do you happen to know a sign maker?’ The sun is beaming down and I can feel the warmth on my now golden-brown legs.
I am trying to think of the practicalities, in an attempt to remove the vision of Takis without his T-shirt from my mind.
‘I do. Not thinking of keeping the old one then? It probably just needs cleaning up.’
‘It’s a little small,’ I say, glancing at the rusty sign that is suspended on a chain. ‘I want it to look welcoming.’
‘Have you thought about what you might call the café?’ asks Takis as he follows my gaze upwards.
‘I think I might simply call it The Little Greek Café,’ I tell him. ‘Or maybe something in Greek. What do you think of Lemonia Kafenion? I looked it up; it literally means the Lemon Tree Café.’
‘I like that,’ says Takis as he pulls his T-shirt over his head. He stops and looks at the signage. ‘The Lemon Tree Café. In fact, I love it.’ He smiles. ‘I will arrange a meeting with a friend to discuss the design with you.’
‘Thank you.’
I suddenly think of Jack, and how he told me that it was the right decision him moving to Greece and how he has never looked back.
It gives me faith that I could be happy here too.
I can hardly believe that in another few weeks I will be actually open for business.
Four weeks to be precise, in the middle of September.
The Apollo Hotel will still be busy as many older families take their holidays, but less so those with children who will be back at school.
Zeta was fine about me leaving the hotel then, as she has plenty of staff.
The day after tomorrow, she has offered to take me to the supplier she mentioned where she can get me a discount for the catering equipment that will include a shiny new coffee machine, a panini maker and some crockery.
Ireta has given the name of reasonable food suppliers and has promised to help me select the things I will need ready for opening.
She has even suggested some snacks and canapes for the grand open day, that she kindly says she will help me to prepare.
‘And some of my friend’s home-made ouzo.’
‘That’s kind, but I’m not so sure. That home-made stuff is strong. I don’t want a bunch of drunken revellers in my brand-new café on opening day,’ I told her. She chuckled at that and agreed.
It all feels so real now, and I feel a mixture of excitement and nerves when I think that this will be my future.
‘What is the real risk?’ Mel asked when we last spoke.
‘Erm, nobody stopping by and me not selling a single coffee?’
‘Don’t be daft.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘It’s set in a gorgeous lemon grove, and close to a coastal path.’
‘That’s true. And not far from a busy road.’
‘Then advertise!’ she said emphatically. ‘Wooden sign, billboard on the highway, whatever it takes.’
‘Yes, you are right. I have actually thought about doing just that.’
I thought of the times I have stopped at roadside shacks and bought fruit or locally made goods. I could have a wooden sign with an arrow near melon guy’s hut.
‘And even if the café doesn’t work out, you will still have your accommodation,’ Mel reminded me.
‘You could convert the downstairs into more living accommodation. Have a holiday home or even come back to the UK. The possibilities are endless.’ She sounded so positive, my anxiety began to melt away. Well almost.
She is right though. As I have both my redundancy payout and my father’s life insurance, money isn’t too much of an issue.
Even if I don’t stay here forever, renovating a café is not something I ever imagined I could do alone, having never tackled such a big project before.
I feel proud that I am at least trying. Life is a journey after all, and none of us know how long we have to enjoy it.
I think of my dad then. I would give up every penny of his life insurance to spend a bit more time with him. We always think we have more time with our loved ones, don’t we?
‘I hope you approve, Dad,’ I say, into the air, as a single tear rolls down my cheek. ‘I think it is just the kind of place you would call into after a hike, for a brew and a bit of cake.’
It feels like I owe it to Dad to make a success of things. I will put everything I can into the little café. Hopefully it will be just what everyone around here needs.