Though, I had to admit, feigning indifference was getting harder by the day.
22
CHLOE
Itook a deep breath of the salty air filtering in from the beach. It was another stinking, hot, flat-calm day at Furze Sur Mer and Méduse. Fifi and I sat at the bar, forearm to forearm, in silent sisterhood. Though in totally different moods.
She stoically ran through the last-minute menu updates Maxime had requested. I tried—and failed miserably—to stop my foot from tapping against the bar stool.
I’d only seen him briefly this morning but judging by Fifi’s muttering—and her liberal sprinkling of his name in said muttering, I’d say there was trouble.
They’d had a bit of a falling out, apparently. Something about napkins, of all things. She’d joked only last week that he wouldn’t notice if they replaced the crisp, blue cotton ones with newspaper or dish rags. However, with Luc’s imminent arrival,my boss had switched on his “attention to details” radar.
Today was officially D-Day. It remained to be seen whether D stood for disaster or deliverance. Whatever the outcome, my heart bloomed. I’d be hugging my friends in a matter of hours.
“Okay,” she grumbled, drawing a thick red line under somenotes she was making on a Post-it. “I hope he’s happy. Who changes a menu on such an important day? The chef is furious.”
I gritted my teeth, curling my hands around the glass in front of me. The chef seemed furious most days, but I’d noticed his handlebar moustache twitching more than usual this morning.
“I just hope he can cope,” she continued. “I organised an emergency vegetable delivery, but Maxi’s taking a real gamble. Suppose the menu changes don’t match the fish he catches. What then?”
I swallowed. Baked beans on toast?
Jokes aside, changing his menu was a bit of a risk, but he’d taken Sophie fishing with him this morning, so at least he had something else to focus on.
I smiled, glancing down the beach, towards our secret cove. I’d watched the two of them disappear into his boat earlier. They’d walked hand in hand—Sophie chattering a mile a minute. Maxime had carried his nets and a thick black coffee I’d made for him. If anything could soothe his worries, it’d be time with his daughter.
My heart quickened thinking about the two of them.
My mum always said that two wrongs didn’t make a right, but in their case, I begged to differ. It turned out that two slightly aloof people made something beautiful together.
A peel of laughter rang out from a table on the other side of the club.
Fifi chuckled. “They’re on their third cup of coffee. Who needs defibrillators when you have ‘Chloe Au Lait’ on hand?”
I winked, twirling my new social media handle around in my head. Fifi and I had created aprofile for Chloe Au Lait, yesterday, complete with a photo of me in my chef’s hat, apron, and bikini. Under her expert direction, the poses were a little on the sexier side. My cheeks warmed. I’d show it to Maximewhen Sophie was safely back in Paris. Maybe he’d want me to model the outfit for him in person.
Fifi leaned closer. “I wouldn’t mind some more lessons, though. I’ll be making the coffee tonight, and I don’t have the patience to make the pictures. I swear the milk jug has a mind of its own.”
“It’s all in the wrist,” I said, wiggling my eyebrows.
She had a point, though. Yesterday she drew a squid for one of our regulars. The result looked more like a condom than a sea creature.
I slid off the stool, moving along the bar towards Phyllis—that was the name I’d given to the coffee machine. Phyllis was my grandmother’s name, too. They had a lot in common—both were temperamental and blew out a lot of hot air.
I ran my hand over one of her chrome pipes. “What do you think about starting a coffee club on the weekends? The place is always busier then. We could offer some delicious pastries and fruit. Maybe some tarts?”
Fifi grinned, raising her perfectly crafted eyebrows. “We? I’m liking the sound of this. Keep talking.”
“I saw something similar at one of the harbour cafes in Nice yesterday. They served fancy food, and extortionately overpriced coffee, but plenty of people were happy to part with their money.”
Fifi blinked, sliding off her stool, glaring at the waitress who’d dared pick up her phone instead of polish cutlery. “What were you doing in Nice? I knew you and Sophie were out for the day. I thought you’d just gone for a walk.”
I smiled. “We picked up some dresses at the markets. For tonight. While we were there, we did a bit of research into our competition. I’m not just a pretty face.”
Market research aside, I wanted to look nice for Maxime tonight. It was rare he saw me out of shorts or my trusty bikini. Sophie had been totally onboard with the shopping trip. Sheeven had her own credit card. She bought a cute dress,and I found something sensible and pretty.
Iris would be proud of me. Long gone were my days of making dresses out of curtains.
