singing again. Somebody loves me.
* * *
The door to the coffeehouse swung inward, and Tony ushered Flora ahead of him.
“Ladies first,” he said, with the twinkle in his eye she knew so well.
She smiled and went in, and the door closed the wintry wind out behind them. The coffeehouse was outside at the rear of the ballroom, and managed by a Turkish couple and their five sons. The decor was all woven mats and gilded wall hangings and bronze ornaments. Few women ventured down here; it had become something of a men’s gathering place at the Evergreen Spa. Flora quickly checked the room and noticed with relief that she wasn’t the only woman here today.
Tony’s gang sat at a table under the back window, which looked out onto a tangle of vines. They all greeted each other roughly, greeted her less roughly, and then sat down again. The waiters came to take their orders, and Flora cringed at the nonsense the men went on with, especially Tony and Sweetie, who made jokes about their headscarves and their skin color. The waiters took the ribbing with good grace, but Flora knew they were offended by it.
“You really shouldn’t, you know,” she said to Tony once the waiters had disappeared to make their coffees.
“They love it,” Sweetie said, with a shrug of his enormous shoulders. “It makes them feel as though we’re all friends.”
“I rather think it’s cruel,” she muttered.
“Beware, you’re marrying a shrew,” Harry teased. “She’ll tell you what to do.”
Tony kissed her cheek. “Now, put it out of your head, Florrie. Sweetie’s right; they’d worry if we stopped now. Not everyone is a gentle soul who can’t take a joke, like your brother.”
A ripple of chuckles around the table. Flora didn’t respond; she was used to them noticing Sam’s difference from them. She supposed he was quite eccentric, but it did tire her to be caught in the middle of Tony and Sam’s quarrels. She tried, however, to let it all wash over her as the conversation moved on, their coffees arrived—Flora took one sip and knew she would never try coffee again—and the coffeehouse grew noisy.
After a few minutes Tony leaned out of the conversation and spoke softly to Flora. “You don’t mind me making a bit of fun of Sam?”
“I do mind. But I’m used to it.” She smiled weakly. “I know you two don’t get on.”
“I thought I might have hurt your feelings. You’re very quiet.”
“I just worry about him.”
“He’s a man, not a little boy.”
“He is a little boy still. His mind and his heart and his soul haven’t quite caught up with his body yet.” She spread her hands helplessly. “He thinks he’s in love.”
“With whom?”
“A waitress named Violet.”
“The lass who picked up your pearls?”
“The very same. I’ve kept him away from the dining room a few days, but I can’t forever. He talks about her. Wonders aloud where she’s from, what she’s like.”
“Do you want me to have her fired?”
Flora shuddered. “Oh, no. The poor thing. It’s not her fault. I keeptrying to tell him it’s not real love, that he barely knows her and he’s besotted with her appearance and can’t possibly have a future with her. He’s behaving himself for now, but I know it’s not sinking in.”
Tony furrowed his brow in thought. “Perhaps you’re approaching this all wrong. Let him be in love with her but convince him that it would be very bad for her if they were to get involved. She’d certainly lose her job.”
Flora turned this idea over in her mind. “You’re right. That could work.”
Tony winked. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”
“I would never say that.”
Flora excused herself shortly afterwards to go upstairs to talk to Sam. The afternoons were growing short, and the sunlight had softened and burnished across the valley, its amber reflection caught in the windows in the stairwell. Flora kept her head down as she walked the corridor to Sam’s room,
* * *
The door to the coffeehouse swung inward, and Tony ushered Flora ahead of him.
“Ladies first,” he said, with the twinkle in his eye she knew so well.
She smiled and went in, and the door closed the wintry wind out behind them. The coffeehouse was outside at the rear of the ballroom, and managed by a Turkish couple and their five sons. The decor was all woven mats and gilded wall hangings and bronze ornaments. Few women ventured down here; it had become something of a men’s gathering place at the Evergreen Spa. Flora quickly checked the room and noticed with relief that she wasn’t the only woman here today.
Tony’s gang sat at a table under the back window, which looked out onto a tangle of vines. They all greeted each other roughly, greeted her less roughly, and then sat down again. The waiters came to take their orders, and Flora cringed at the nonsense the men went on with, especially Tony and Sweetie, who made jokes about their headscarves and their skin color. The waiters took the ribbing with good grace, but Flora knew they were offended by it.
“You really shouldn’t, you know,” she said to Tony once the waiters had disappeared to make their coffees.
“They love it,” Sweetie said, with a shrug of his enormous shoulders. “It makes them feel as though we’re all friends.”
“I rather think it’s cruel,” she muttered.
“Beware, you’re marrying a shrew,” Harry teased. “She’ll tell you what to do.”
Tony kissed her cheek. “Now, put it out of your head, Florrie. Sweetie’s right; they’d worry if we stopped now. Not everyone is a gentle soul who can’t take a joke, like your brother.”
A ripple of chuckles around the table. Flora didn’t respond; she was used to them noticing Sam’s difference from them. She supposed he was quite eccentric, but it did tire her to be caught in the middle of Tony and Sam’s quarrels. She tried, however, to let it all wash over her as the conversation moved on, their coffees arrived—Flora took one sip and knew she would never try coffee again—and the coffeehouse grew noisy.
After a few minutes Tony leaned out of the conversation and spoke softly to Flora. “You don’t mind me making a bit of fun of Sam?”
“I do mind. But I’m used to it.” She smiled weakly. “I know you two don’t get on.”
“I thought I might have hurt your feelings. You’re very quiet.”
“I just worry about him.”
“He’s a man, not a little boy.”
“He is a little boy still. His mind and his heart and his soul haven’t quite caught up with his body yet.” She spread her hands helplessly. “He thinks he’s in love.”
“With whom?”
“A waitress named Violet.”
“The lass who picked up your pearls?”
“The very same. I’ve kept him away from the dining room a few days, but I can’t forever. He talks about her. Wonders aloud where she’s from, what she’s like.”
“Do you want me to have her fired?”
Flora shuddered. “Oh, no. The poor thing. It’s not her fault. I keeptrying to tell him it’s not real love, that he barely knows her and he’s besotted with her appearance and can’t possibly have a future with her. He’s behaving himself for now, but I know it’s not sinking in.”
Tony furrowed his brow in thought. “Perhaps you’re approaching this all wrong. Let him be in love with her but convince him that it would be very bad for her if they were to get involved. She’d certainly lose her job.”
Flora turned this idea over in her mind. “You’re right. That could work.”
Tony winked. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”
“I would never say that.”
Flora excused herself shortly afterwards to go upstairs to talk to Sam. The afternoons were growing short, and the sunlight had softened and burnished across the valley, its amber reflection caught in the windows in the stairwell. Flora kept her head down as she walked the corridor to Sam’s room,
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