“Not at all. If anything it’s easier because he knows me, and I know him.” Evie waved cheerfully to a guest who was carryinga toddler and wrangling a little girl towards the hotel. “Need any help there, Chrissy?”
“We’re fine, thanks.” The woman was sweating. “Just trying to persuade the girls it’s naptime.”
Evie grinned. “Good luck with that. Holly’s not looking particularly sleepy.” She gestured to a table with a perfect view of the sea. “This is us.”
Abby watched as the woman disappeared into the hotel. “You know all the guests by name?”
“I try to. It’s the job, isn’t it? To make people’s stay personal. Chrissy and her girls are here for a month. Her husband is something important in the city and joins them for weekends. She orders a lot of room service. Also sends back a lot of room service because Holly is a fussy eater.”
Abby sat down and gazed at the view. “This is spectacular.”
“I know. I never tire of looking at our cliffs. It’s the reason many of our guests like to eat outdoors. On warmer evenings we can open up the side of the restaurant so that even those indoors can enjoy the sound of the ocean.”
“How many of the people using your restaurant are residents?”
“It varies.” Evie sat down opposite her. “At this time of year a lot of people come here for a cream tea. It’s tradition, and of course they enjoy the views. The evening clientele is a little different. We’ve had problems filling the restaurant, but that has changed since our new chef arrived. Word has spread quickly and we’re fully booked for most of the summer, although we always keep a couple of tables back for residents.”
“Your new chef is Luca?” Abby delved into the information she’d memorised.
She knew he’d previously worked in London, and before that in a five-star establishment on Lake Como.
Evie’s eyes widened. “How do you know his name?”
“Oh—” She realised that she was coming across as far toowell-informed for someone who was simply here to bolster staff numbers. “I read a bit about the hotel. Also, I’m a foodie. I often pick my holiday destinations based on restaurant recommendations.”
“In that case you won’t be disappointed by Luca. Hisgnocchi con parmigianois the ultimate comfort food. Although you may not have much time to sample his skills. You’re going to be busy.” Evie sat back as their tea was delivered. “Tell me everything about yourself. All head office told me was that you’re experienced, and you’ve worked in most areas of the hotel.”
“Yes. I travel around a lot. The last place I worked was The Alexandra, Cape Cod.” That was true. They’d been having problems with a new guest booking system and Abby had spent a month helping out.
“You don’t know Cornwall at all?”
“No. And I’m looking forward to exploring.” She wanted to do more than explore the local area. She wanted to see the place her mother had lived as a child. Whereshe’dlived, because she’d been born here. Abby had been four when they’d moved, but she had no memory of it. All she’d ever known was Boston.
She wanted to see if she could find out more about her family history.
It was an urge that had crept up on her slowly. A desire to fill in the blanks. To understand.
Her mother had shared little about her childhood growing up in Cornwall. All Abby knew was that life had been hard for her. Her mother’s father had left when she was eleven leaving Alexandra to help care for her mother who had been seriously injured in a car accident the year before. She’d died when Alexandra was eighteen and that same year her mother had met Abby’s father and within months she was pregnant. Tragically he’d died before Abby was born and a few years after that her mother had moved to Boston.
That decision made perfect sense. She’d wanted to leave the past and all that grief behind.
It also explained why she was reluctant to talk about it.
But Abby was hoping that while she was here she might be able to find out more about her family history, and her father especially, without having to press her mother for more. She felt frustrated that she knew so little, while at the same time sympathising with her mother’s wish not to talk about what had clearly been a traumatic time of her life.
“If you have any questions, ask me.” Evie poured tea for both of them. “I was born here. Lived here all my life apart from a few years in college.”
Abby already knew those details, but she nodded as if she was hearing them for the first time.
“These look amazing.” She reached out and took a scone. It was still warm from the oven and when she sliced it in half the texture was soft and fluffy.
In front of her was a small bowl of thick clotted cream, and another of homemade strawberry jam.
She tried to remember what her mother had told her.
Cream, then jam? Jam, then cream?
Did it even matter?
