Page 19 of The Second Chance in the Mediterranean
In the darkness while we prepped dinner,Themiscrossed from Montenegro to Croatia, but we were too busy to notice. Our guests had elected to have a three-course meal on their first night, in addition to starting dining at ten o’clock. It was nearly one a.m. by the time I pushed the last dessert plate out the door.
I waited five minutes, cleaning myself up, before climbing the stairs to greet our guests.
The foursome was loud and I could hear them from the base of the stairs. A brief vertigo hit me when I reached the main deck and saw the lights of the coast passing by.Themiswas stable enough that I nearly forgot that we were on the move until I glanced out the window. We were probably approaching Dubrovnik, our destination for the night.
“Buona sera. Mr. and Mrs. Delmonico, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, how was your meal this evening?”
While the men were dressed more casually, the women sported full makeup, manicured nails, and reedy bodies. Perfume masked any of the aromas of my hard work—even the fresh baked bread, which had filled the galley with a mouthwatering yeasty scent, was overpowered.
“Chef Baresi,” Mr. Delmonico greeted me, and offered me a handshake. “Everything was wonderful. That veal dish was a big hit with us.”
“I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Are there any changes you’d like to see to the general menu?”
“No, everything was—”
“Dear,” Mrs. Granger interrupted, not meeting my eye. “Lighter lunches please. Salads—the pastas were far too heavy.”
“Yes, ma’am. Anything else?”
“Some fish for tomorrow night’s dinner. And can we do the sit-down again? This was lovely.” She delicately placed her napkin over her barely touched plate.
The schedule for tomorrow had been for a family-style, more casual dinner, but that didn’t matter. “Certainly.”
“Good, good. That will be all, thank you.” I was dismissed.
“Yes, ma’am, please enjoy the rest of your evening.”
In the galley I quickly jotted down some notes for tomorrow, going over the day and trying to pinpoint what I could improve upon. Roy had finished a majority of the dishes during the main course, and I’d sent him off to bed, leaving me alone to think. In this industry, there were always people who treated you a little less. That was the feeling I got from Mrs. Granger, and I would do my best to make sure she had nothing to complain about.
The door leading to the crew quarters opened up and I called out without looking up. “I thought I told you to get to bed.”
“Well, aren’t we demanding?” came Seb’s voice in response. “Who exactly is getting in your bed now?”
I shot a glare at him. “I thought you were Roy.”
He yawned and stretched. “Good luck with that.”
“Seb, knock it off. I’m tired and at the end of my day.”
He had the decency to look contrite. “Sorry.”
I returned to my papers. “What are you doing down here anyway?”
“I was just getting up from my nap and starting my night shift. Are they still up?”
“Yes. And still going.”
Seb leaned his elbows on the counter across from me. “How did dinner go?”
I looked up at him, surprised he was moving on from our anger and interested. “Okay, I think. A few adjustments to make, and they barely touched their desserts. I’m not happy about that.”
“What did you serve them?”
“Tiramisu.”
Seb’s lips quivered. “Not panna cotta?”
“Ha. No.”
