Hearts On Fire Episode 14
Marianna awoke with a start.
A car had drawn up. Doors opened, followed by voices.
She jerked upright, paused to check she wasn’t dreaming, then leapt out of bed.
The guests couldn’t be back already! She’d only meant to nap for an hour.
But no, the clock said one o’clock.
She threw on a kaftan and checked the mirror.
One cheek was creased and red from the pillow, but she’d have to do.
She needed to check on Océane.
What had the girl bought, how much had it cost and how was she faring with lunch?
Marianna tried to push memories of Jacopo’s father out of her head as she rushed down the stairs.
There was a reason she found it difficult to delegate – Jacopo’s father.
The man had many good points. He was generous and loving, but he had no money sense.
Marco would have spent triple the 20 euros she had given Océane because “only the best will do”.
He never accepted that best didn’t necessarily mean most expensive.
“But Anna,” he’d cajole. “Our guests deserve the best. We are creating an ambience.”
The best had nearly sunk the business when finances were already stretched.
She had no idea where Marco was now, but she was well shot of him.
His legacy was more reason to keep a tight grip on things. Villa Davide would not survive Jacopo or, worse still, their French cook, for one season, speculating to accumulate.
She hurried to the kitchen and found Océane putting the finishing touches to lunch, her head bobbing in time to music from her wireless ear buds.
A 20-euro note sat on top of the microwave.
Marianna picked it up.
“What’s this?”
No answer.
She tapped Océane on the shoulder.
The young woman jumped, turned and pulled out an ear pod.
Marianna waved the note.
“What’s this?”
“The money you gave me for the market.”
Anxiety set Marianna’s temples throbbing again.
“Why haven’t you spent it?” Marianna gestured to the dishes laid out ready. “I can’t afford more than twenty euros.”
Océane returned to a platter of salami.
“Relax. It cost nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Even the vegetables from the garden incurred a cost. What had the girl done?
The business was a few hundred euros away from breaching the final overdraft limit the bank had imposed.
Yesterday, a late-night check on the account had kept her awake fretting for hours, triggering the migraine that meant she’d had to delegate the shopping that morning.
Marianna had accounted for every cent over the
next few weeks.
Any unexpected or unchecked spending would send them over that threshold, and she’d lose everything.
Jacopo strolled into the kitchen.
“Mamma. She was magnificent. The stallholders were falling over themselves to offer their best goods at the best price.
“She got at least thirty euros’ worth of food for half that price, and on account, too.”
Marianna stared at him.
“On account? When do we have to pay?”
Océane grinned.
“The end of the month. I know things are tight, Marianna, but don’t worry. I will go to settle up.”
Marianna caught a glance passing between her son and the cook that suggested there was more between them than simply employer and employee.
Although it unsettled her, she had to admit the young woman had done well.
“Thank you, Océane. I’m grateful.”
Océane nodded to the door.
“Marianna, you’re on.”
“What?” Marianne looked out on to the patio.
Several of the guests were already sitting at the great wooden table.
Bruno dashed between them, tail wagging.
Charlie was reaching for the Orvieto Classico.
Marianna picked up the nearest platters, plastered on a smile and headed out for her next performance.
“Hello again,” she greeted then, effortlessly placing the platters on the table.
Océane and Jacopo followed suit.
“How did it go this morning?” she asked.
The guests replied with a chorus of “Excellent” and “Great”.
Julia kissed her cheek.
“How are you? You look so much better. Did you sleep?”
“Yes, thank you,” Marianna replied. “I’m fine. A half-litre of water, one of my doctor’s pills, a nap, and I am back to normal.”
She waved a hand.
“I expect the weather is about to change. I often get migraines during thunderstorms.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” Mark put in, pulling a chair out from the middle of the table.
“And that we get a good drenching of rain.”
Marianna noted with interest that he sat with his back to the view today.
Yesterday he’d sat facing the other way, his eyes obsessively scanning the horizon, presumably for the first hint of a wildfire.
Soon everybody was seated and tucking into the food.
Mariana took a plate for herself, aware she needed to be careful what she ate for the next few days as the headache could return.
After the first few mouthfuls she realised yet again she had no reason to doubt Océane’s culinary skills – the food was exquisite.
She sat at the head of the table, from where she could monitor her guests and direct the conversation should it flag.
Today, it was Julia she was interested in.
The new artist was almost ignoring Mark, even though his gaze often fell on her.
And when a little oil from the melanzane sott’olio dribbled on to her chin and she chased it with her tongue, his eyes darkened in a way that meant one thing. Mark was smitten.
Marianna continued to chat with Margot on her left while watching the scene play out.
Julia’s eyes flicked to Mark, held his for a beat, then flicked away as she picked up a serviette and wiped her chin clean.
Marianna’s heart kicked. There was attraction on both sides.
Wizzy had noticed the exchange, too, and Marianna crossed her fingers that the old regular wouldn’t cause trouble for the new tutor.
To be continued…