Page 20 of Hibiscus Heights

Unlike the bustling daytime crowd of tourists waiting for the mainland ferry, the evening clientele at the cafe was more relaxed and discerning. The owner was a talented chef who had a loyal local following. The restaurant was more intimate after sunset.

Deb parked her bike and smoothed her sundress. With her mother’s assistance, she felt more confident about her appearance. There was beach casual, and then there was beach grunge. Even on her morning beach runs, she liked to look fresh and somewhat coordinated.

Crown Island was a small town, and appearances were part of her job. Who would hire a disheveled, ill-kempt designer for their home or business?

Appearances mattered.

When Deb stepped inside, a familiar voice rang out.

“Look who’s gracing us with her presence. Hello, princess.” Didier, the cafe’s owner, looked up from his reservation book with a grin that creased the corners of his eyes.

His salt-and-pepper beard and easy manner made him a favorite among the island’s residents. He’d arrived from Switzerland to take surfing lessons and fell in love with the island.

“It’s good to see you,” she said, bestowing the customary double kisses on his cheeks, plus an extra one because they were old friends.

“Are you meeting someone?” he asked.

“A man named Matteo. He’s not from here.”

Happi, the bartender, appeared beside Didier with a knowing smile. “Probably the wine guy.”

Happi’s auburn hair was twisted into a bun, and her short-sleeved blouse revealed intricate tattoos on one arm that chronicled her volunteer work through Central and South America.

Happi nodded toward a man on the patio. “He’s been nursing a fine glass of wine for a while. He was polite and slid a nice tip discreetly across the bar.” She paused. “Is this business or personal?”

“My sister-in-law set me up with him. She met him on the ferry.”

Didier stroked his beard. “Do you want me to keep an eye out for you?”

“I can handle myself, but thanks.” Deb appreciated their concern. “One drink, then I’m going home.”

“Sure you are.” Happi’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Deb followed Happi through the restaurant, past tables of diners and a pianist playing off to one side where people were dancing. A man at a table on the patio stood as they approached, and Deb was pleasantly surprised.

Matteo’s effortless elegance suggested expensive tastes and a life of extensive travel, but he wore it lightly. His linen shirt was perfectly pressed but rolled at the sleeves, and his dark hair sparkled with threads of silver at his temples.

Happi introduced them, and when Deb extended her hand, he took it with care and held her gaze. “I’m honored you’ve joined me, and I apologize for my last-minute invitation.”

“And by text,” she added, teasing him. She detected a subtle, cultured Argentinian accent.

He touched his heart. “Again, my deepest regret. I’m afraid my children introduced me to the habit. With that generation, texting is the main way they communicate. Did I act too impetuously?”

She smiled at his explanation. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Matteo seemed genuine and certainly contrite enough.

“Rachel described you perfectly, though she failed to mention how lovely you are.” He pulled out a chair for her. “She said you are independent, accomplished, and sophisticated.”

Deb smiled to herself. He was certainly complimentary. Maybe a little too much.

Still, she eased into the chair, accepting his compliment with ease. When she was younger, she used to protest. Now, knowing how she worked to maintain her health, she felt she’d earned any compliment that came her way.

“What will you have to drink?” he asked.

She eyed his glass. “Happi tells me you’re having a very fine wine.”

“I’m glad she thinks so.” Matteo signaled Happi, who already had a glass of the same deep red wine poured for her. “This malbec is from my vineyard in Mendoza.”

“Rachel mentioned that.” She swirled the wine and breathed in the bouquet, pleased by its complexity. “Didier is known for his excellent wine selection.”

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