Page 66 of High Season
Maison de la Mer was the kind of restaurant Hannah’s parents would roll their eyes at. They’d driven past it before, with its sleek white facade, a windowless cube right on the coast.
“Flora and I found this place last time we were here,” Rocco said as they clambered out of the car. “Great food. You’ll enjoy it.”
“And where is her eminence tonight?”
Blake’s voice was light, but there was a bite behind it. Something Hannah didn’t quite recognize. Rocco simply laughed, patting his son on the shoulder.
“Now, then,” he said. “That’s a big word for a son of mine. Flora’s stayed home. It’s a long trip for Atticus and Aurora.”
“Me and Tamara used to do it when we were their age,” Blake said, but Rocco was already noisily greeting the maître d’, shaking his hand like they were old friends.
The interior was dark, candlelit, even though it was still light outside, each table a dimly illuminated orb. As she led them to their table,the waitress explained that the chef had deliberately decided to block off the sea view—the idea was to taste the ocean, rather than see it. Taste, she said, was a more powerful sensation than sight. Rocco nodded along, making small noises of appreciation.
“Brilliant,” he said. “Just genius.”
He ordered a bottle of red wine with three glasses, and nobody asked Hannah or Blake’s age. Rocco Mae spoke like a man who expected to get exactly what he asked for. Hannah wasn’t used to wine, and when she took a sip, she found the taste strange and metallic, an undertone of iron that made her think of a time that Josie had sliced her index finger on a rock and, without thinking, Hannah had put her mouth to the wound to stop the bleeding.
Rocco asked for oysters and then steak. Blake echoed his order, and Hannah wondered what the point of sitting in a windowless box was if you weren’t going to order seafood for your main course anyway. She told them that she wasn’t hungry enough for a starter, choosing a tuna salad for main, the cheapest thing on the menu. The wine left a thick, dry sediment in her mouth, and she found herself drinking quickly in an attempt to wash it away. Blake ordered a beer and switched between the two drinks, a mouthful of wine, a swig from his bottle. He and Rocco talked about school while they waited for their starters, how Blake flunked his mock exams, his university applications. Blake sounded almost proud when he talked about how his teacher had promised to surreptitiously bump him up a few marks on his coursework.
“She reckons that’ll get me into Leeds at least. Bristol, if I’m lucky,” he said.
“You’re a smart kid,” Rocco said, a pride in his voice. “Academic. Not like me and your mum.”
“And school said that I can go back late, in September,” Blake announced, as platters of oysters were placed on the table between them, gray and glistening. “They said it’s cool for me to miss a few weeks.”
Rocco picked up a dappled shell.
“Oh yeah?” he said. “Why’s that?”
Blake stilled, an oyster paused halfway to his mouth. Around them,the restaurant hummed, the clatter of cutlery, the sound of plates being set down on the polished wooden tables.
“The Vespas?” Blake said. “You know. We’re meant to be going down the Amalfi Coast together. You and me.”
Rocco slurped down an oyster, smacking his lips appreciatively.
“Did we say September?” he said. “I thought that we said maybe next year.”
“Yeah. We talked about it last time we spoke on the phone, remember?”
“Well. September might not be the best time for me, to be honest with you, kid.”
Blake set down the oyster without bringing it to his mouth.
“You said we would,” he said. “You said, if I spent summer with Mum, we’d do our road trip in September.”
Hannah felt his body tense beside her. Tight, like a coiled spring.
“I’m not sure that I said that, did I?”
“Yeah,” said Blake. “You promised. I’ve been doing research. You said that I could plan the route.”
And then, in a smaller voice:
“I already bought a helmet.”
“Well.” Rocco lifted a fork to scoop another oyster out of its shell. “September’s a crazy time for me. Atticus and Aurora are starting a new school, and Flora’s got this amazing job opportunity in Milan, so I’ll be doing the hands-on dad thing for a couple of weeks—”
“Youpromised,” Blake said again.
