Page 7 of The Second Chance in the Mediterranean
“Shite, that’s cool. So you know a bit about sailing, then?”
I shrugged. “Some. I mean, I could manage a little bit on my own. But this thing”—I waved my spoon around to encompass all ofThemis—“this is insane.”
“Yeah, it is.” He tipped his chin up. “Those massive masts and sails, they’re downright bizarre. It’s like being on a spaceship or something.”
I finished the last avocado and pulled out a knife to start dicing onions. “I take it you aren’t a sailor?”
“Absolutely not. My family’s never even set foot on a boat. But then again, they’ve also never set foot in a fine-dining establishment, so...”
I nodded in understanding. Money had always been tight growing up, so my family hadn’t enjoyed fancy meals either.
“They don’t get my job much at all. They definitely don’t get how cool it is to be working onThemis. What about your family?”
“My parents live in Campania, near Naples.”
“Were you one of those Italians who grew up in the kitchen with your granny making marinara sauce?” he teased.
“Actually...”
“Oh shite. You were, weren’t you?”
“No, I was not.” I gave him a teasing smile. “My parents own an almond orchard. I didn’t grow up with mynonna’s marinara sauce, but I grew up with a little café and a store at the orchard. I started helping out when I was young, and eventually realized that there was a lot more to learn about cooking beyond the café.”
“Then you went to culinary school?”
“You got it.”
We heard the door above us open and footsteps thudded down the stairs. Seb rounded the corner coming down the staircase and hesitated a moment before giving me a nod and thumping Roy on the back.
“Hey, mate, howzit?” Roy said.
“Good.” Seb leaned over and sniffed the chicken. “Smells great, as usual, man.”
“What’s up?”
“Running into town, thought I’d check to see if you needed anything.”
Roy glanced at me across the galley. “Marcella, you had some things you needed, right?”
I didn’t look up from the cutting board. “Yeah, but I’ll handle it tomorrow morning between meals.”
“Okay then.” Seb paused for a moment, and I felt my back tense up.Please do not let him say anything untoward.
After an awkward moment, Seb rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Okay,” he said again. “Catch you at dinner.” He strode past me on his way out. “Marce.”
When Seb was gone, Roy glanced over at me. “Seb’s my roommate.”
I tried not to sigh. Of course Seb and Roy were roommates.
“We get on pretty well, so he’s around a lot. I mean,” Roy said, chuckling, “not like there’s anywhere else to be, since we’re all on the same boat, but yeah.”
I stiffened a bit. I wondered if Seb had told Roy our history. That could be complicated . . . especially for Roy. Stuck between his boss and his roommate, if things got nasty, would he save his job or his friendship? I hope it didn’t come to that.
When I didn’t say anything else, Roy continued. “He called you Marce. Do you know each other?”
That was a positive sign. “We worked together in the Caribbean.”
“OnOdyssey?”
