Page 14 of Hot in the City
Was it possible Dan remembered everything? They’d spent hours together in the university library and in parks like this, and she’d been constantly sketching. Maybe he remembered their one and only kiss. She’d replayed it countless times, only with a different ending. A dirty, sweaty, happy ending.
Her insides fluttered like an autumn leaf falling from a branch. She shouldn’t be thinking about him this way. She shook her head. “I have to go. See you round, maybe.”
Dan’s black eyebrows cinched together. “Okay. See you.”
She hurried off down the path towards the city.
“Hey, Nat!” He called and she couldn’t help turning back. “I’m working on site here for a couple of months, if you want to grab a coffee one day.”
She sighed. Of course she wanted to. But she shouldn’t. Still, she didn’t say no. “Put me down as a definite maybe.”
His answering grin was seared on her brain as she fled. Back to work, and her fiancé.
The next day, Natalia sketched a banksia flower at her desk, when the familiar ping of an email sent her scuttling to her keyboard.
From: [email protected]
Subject: Sketches for research project
To the Parks and Gardens team,
I’m a tree surgeon/horticulturalist working in the Botanic Gardens for the next two months. I’m recording the change of seasons for a research project in partnership with the Melbourne Museum. Could you please put me in touch with a recommended botanical artist?
Regards,
Dan Mancini.
The email swam before her eyes. Warmth bloomed in her belly like a rose opening its petals. Dan had emailed her. Well, he’d emailed the department, looking for a botanical artist, probably an attempt to find her.
His email address was interesting: [email protected]. Albero amore. Her late grandmother had taught her basic Italian. She recognised the words for ‘tree’ and ‘love’. Dan worked for a company called Tree Love? That was perfect. He’d become a horticulturalist. One with brawn and brains, by the sound of the research project. Beneath the handsome exterior was a mind to be reckoned with, as she’d always known.
Natalia fiddled with her engagement ring as she re-read the email. The ring was too loose – it had never fit right. She’d been meaning to get it re-sized.
“Natalia, can I have a word? It’s about dinner on Friday.” Ted had snuck up behind her, stealthy as fog on a misty Melbourne morning.
Her body went stiff as Ted stroked her shoulder.
Glancing behind her, she caught Ted reading her email on her PC. She hated that. “What about it? I’ve booked the restaurant for seven o’clock.”
Ted frowned, his hazel eyes sliding sideways. Paying no attention to what she was saying, only thinking about what he’d say next. “I don’t think it’s the right setting. Too noisy and crowded. I’d prefer somewhere elegant.”
Right. Most people said she had great taste. She wasn’t as trendy as Sofia, but she knew good food, especially Italian. The bistro she’d chosen was the best on Lygon Street, Melbourne’s ‘Little Italy’.
“If you have another suggestion, I can check if they have a free table.”
Unlikely for a group of six, but she was trying. Trying to get along with Ted’s friends, years older than herself. And his ex-wife. The ever-present Bettina, who didn’t behave like an ex-anything. She was trying.
He leaned over, reading her screen again. “Will do. What’s this email about?”
Natalia folded her arms. Should she tell Ted that she knew Dan? She shrugged. “He’s a horticulturalist, looking for a botanical artist for a special project.” She left it at that, carefully shading around the outlines of her sketchy statement.
“You should meet him. That’s your sort of thing, right?” His voice was chirpy. Pleased with himself for remembering her ‘hobby’. Her art.
She closed her eyes. Decision made. “Yes. It’s exactly my sort of thing.”
Natalia couldn’t see Dan as she hurried past the lake, onto the green lawn surrounded by specimen trees. She’d arranged to meet him at ten o’clock but was running late. She power-walked, but still took in the shimmering sunshine reflecting off the water, ducks swimming, and the city skyline poking through the tree-tops in the distance.
