“Because, as I explained, it will be impractical and far too warm,” Zoe repeated, raising her voice a little. Part of her wanted to shout at Marcy, but she stopped herself.
Marcy shrugged. “Can’t do that. There’s no plumbing on that side. It will cost extra to move it, and everything’s been budgeted for already.” She was about to walk away but was stopped in her tracks by Zoe stepping in front of her, her arms crossed defensively in front of her chest.
“Fine. Then I’ll speak to Lisa about it. This is not your territory; your job is to build, not to make decisions on the layout.”
“Oh, is that so?” Marcy huffed. “And your job is to show up and cook. This is not your building; you just work here.” She rolled her eyes. “God, they’re going to have a handful with you, kiddo. You haven’t even started yet and you’re already throwing your weight around and stirring up trouble.”
“Don’t you dare call me that, you arrogant—” Zoe swallowed her words and averted her gaze.Don’t bite,she told herself, fighting to regain her composure.This is your new job, don’t ruin it because of her.“Never mind.”
“Fuck this, I don’t have time for your negativity. I’ve got work to do.” Slamming the door behind her, Marcy left Zoe in the kitchen, half furious, half shell-shocked.
Zoe’s heart was still beating wildly, and her hands were shaking as an attractive blue-eyed blonde swept through the door in a business-like fashion and gave her a wave. No doubt this was Lisa, and it was time to forget Marcy and make a good impression.Time to put your smile back on. Marcy’s not worth it. She never was.
5
The ground was still too uneven to be paved, even after the two guys she’d hired to level the surface had spent two days flattening it. Marcy sighed, unlocked the shed behind the hole in the ground that was well on its way to becoming a pool and picked up a spade, then went on to improve their work. Everything had to be perfect. She’d strived for nothing but perfection so far and that wasn’t going to change. This was her castle, her masterpiece, and it was where she would be spending the foreseeable future, perhaps even the rest of her life.
The patio would be the pièce de résistance with gorgeous views over the valley. The light was golden yellow here during sunrise, and a deep red at night as the sun sank behind the mountains. It was where she would have her coffee in the mornings, where she would dine after work and where she would have friends and family over for celebrations. There was no room for error; no wobbly chairs or coasters under the table legs, and no loose tiles. She made a mental note not to hire the two men again. They hadn’t done a bad job; it just wasn’t as good as she would have done it herself. Straight, smooth, immaculate, and built to last.
After an hour of moving soil in the boiling sun, sweat was dripping down Marcy’s back, so she went inside to pour herself a glass of water and proudly glanced around, admiring her creation. The kitchen was finished and so was most of the living space. That just left the terrace, the pool and the drive to complete. In theory, she could move in since the electrics—the biggest challenge that had taken her a good part of a year—were connected, but it didn’t feel right to do so until it was finished. Not until the big reveal.The fact that no one knew about her cave house made her even more determined to work on the wow factor after the basics were done. It was stunning, there was no doubt about that. Built into the side of the mountains, it had a glass façade that opened up onto the terrace. She’d kept the rough stone walls and ceilings inside, still organic in their shape. Someone had started the hard work and never finished the job, and when the huge cave facing south had come up for sale, she’d immediately known this was where she wanted to settle down.
At the rear of the cave was her bedroom, with a bed she’d built from local wood. Above it, small recesses in the ceiling held spotlights that gave the space a warm glow, and handwoven Spanish rugs dotted about made the space look cosy and homely. With the dome-like shape of the cave and the lower ceiling where the bed resided, she imagined it would feel like sleeping in a womb. Lacking straight walls to place wardrobes against, she’d built one into a natural alcove to the left of the bed but other than that, everything was freestanding. The big freestanding roll top bath was positioned on the other side of the bed, with the hand-built kitchen in the middle of the space. The seating area, that looked out over the terrace and the office area, all flowed into one, the neutral colours pulling it together like the items belonged there. After so much hard work and consideration, there was no room for clutter or anything that would break that flow, so Marcy had decided to place the toilet in a small, but still connected, outbuilding, where she’d also installed a modern, state-of-the-art rain shower.
Heading back outside, she picked up the spade and continued working. She could work for hours and never get bored with it. The steady progress and seeing it all come together had given her more drive than ever and although she hadn’t had a day off in months, it was so worth it. The mountain villa was only a twenty-minute drive from Benidorm, yet it felt like a world away, and with so much private land around the property and protected land behind it, nothing would ever get in the way of her view.
“The fence,” she mumbled to herself. The fence had to be put up before the terrace was finished so strangers wouldn’t show up to party here.So much to do, so little time.The hotel she was currently working on in Benidorm was taking up five days of her week but the grumpy and rude chef aside, the project was a joy to work on. Lisa, the project manager, was nice too; Marcy imagined they could even be friends if they got to know each other a little better.
What was the name of the chef again? Zelda? Zoe? Yes, Zoe.Her rudeness had bothered Marcy as she rarely got negativity or hostile attitudes from people. Always meeting them with a smile, her good vibes were usually returned, but yesterday she’d felt like some kind of villain, and she had no idea what she’d done to deserve that. Forcing her mind to go blank, Marcy concentrated on the task at hand and soon settled into a comforting rhythm. Manual labour was like meditation to her and there was no better way to ban negative thoughts from her mind. Although she wasn’t supposed to physically help the builders and decorators—as her role as site manager was to oversee and manage the process—she couldn’t help herself and often got hands-on when they were short of time. Not only did she enjoy it, but her team respected her, and she was proud of the loyalty she’d garnered by being one of them. The thought of throwing a team party for them on this very terrace put a smile on her face because they’d been teasing her about her accommodation for years. The building industry was a good industry to be in, and most of her employees had a nice family home of their own, but she knew they’d be surprised when they set eyes on what she’d done with this spectacular and unique site.
After spreading sand over the soil, and levelling out the last part of the surface with a handheld tamper, Marcy straightened her back and stretched, relieving her aching shoulders. The big, natural stone tiles that were piled against the separate outbuilding almost reached the roof, and she ran a mental calculation to figure out if she could finish getting the patio paved today. It was doable, but she’d be cutting it fine as there were only six hours of daylight left.
“Okay,” she said to herself. “Let’s do this.” Pulling an energy bar out of her back pocket, she braced herself for the hard work. She knew this was a labour of love but she was already picturing herself with a cold beer looking out over the jaw dropping view. She tugged her sweat drenched cap lower and picked up the first slab. All this effort would be worth it. She couldn’t wait to see the end result.
6
“Here you go.” Zoe scooted a bag with eggs, butter, oil and a variety of fresh and dried seasoning across the kitchen surface and watched her first candidate inspect the goods. Face to face interviews were great when it came to office jobs but in the kitchen, she needed to see her people in action before she hired them. The boy was only nineteen but like her, he already had a wealth of experience on his CV, and knowing how hard it could be to prove oneself being the youngest in the kitchen, she wanted to give him a chance.
“Just eggs?” he asked, looking a little puzzled.
“Yes. I want you to cook me eggs four ways. An omelette, scrambled eggs, a soft-boiled egg and a poached egg. Sometimes the simplest things are the hardest.” She smiled. “And I want them all plated at the same time. I’ve already put two pans with water on the boil, and there are more pans underneath the workbench alongside anything else you might need.”
“Okay…” He laid everything out in front of him and she could sense his mind churning, planning how he would go about the challenge. “How much time do I have?”
“How much time do you need?”
He took a moment to think about that, then said: “Six minutes.”
“Okay, six minutes it is.” Zoe checked her watch and propped herself up on the workbench behind him. “Starting now.” She watched him carefully drop the first egg into boiling water and crack three eggs into a bowl. He worked fast and methodically as he added two more pans to the stove. One frying pan, to which he added a mixture of butter and oil, and one deep pan with a generous amount of butter.So far, so good.She liked this test. It showed both timing and skill as well as palette, because getting the seasoning perfect wasn’t easy either. Many chefs tended to over-season around here, but it wasn’t the British customer that El Escondite would be tailoring to.
“How am I doing for time?” he asked, whisking the three eggs at an impressive speed before adding a few drops of water.
“Three and a half minutes left, you’re doing great,” Zoe said when she saw his hands were trembling. “Just stay calm, you’re on track.”
“Thanks.” He cracked eggs into the melted butter and left them while he added a splash of vinegar to the other pan with boiling water and dropped two more in to poach. Zoe was pleased to see they stayed intact because she really wanted him on her team. Finally, he finished his omelette and his scrambled eggs and placed them on the large plate she’d given him alongside the prettiest of the two poached eggs and a neatly peeled soft boiled egg, cut in half.
“Bravo,” Zoe said, impressed with his work. She took her time to taste each dish and handed him a fork to do the same. The scrambled eggs were creamy and just on the cusp of setting, the omelette was fluffy and light, the yolk poured out of the bouncy poached egg as she cut into it and the boiled egg was just right; firm enough to stay intact but runny enough to dip her finger into.
“Are you happy with it?”
