Rosie's Little Café on the Riviera

by Jennifer Bohnet

  As she stood there wondering what to do, a well-dressed man came striding up and swore under his breath when the door failed to open for him.

  ‘Looks like we’ve been locked out,’ he said. ‘You going to Dan’s party, too?’

  Erica nodded. ‘Haven’t even got Dan’s number on my phone so I can’t ring him.’ You could ring GeeGee, though, a little voice in her head whispered.

  ‘We could cross the road and try shouting to attract their attention,’ the man suggested.

  Erica looked at him. ‘You could. But I’m going home. I kept my word to come to the party. Not my fault if I can’t get in.’ She turned to leave just as the door opened and GeeGee looked out.

  ‘You made it. I was afraid you’d chicken out,’ GeeGee said.

  ‘It did cross my mind,’ Erica said, smothering a sigh. Ten more seconds and she’d have escaped.

  ‘Hi,’ GeeGee said, turning to the man. ‘Come on up, both of you.’

  The man bounded up the first flight of stairs ahead of them, his long legs taking two at a time and disappeared from sight. Following GeeGee upstairs to the top floor Erica tried not to tense up as she heard music and loud laughter drifting down the stairs. She’d never suffered from shyness before but it was so long since she’d gone to a party as a single woman.

  Back then, too, she’d usually gone with a crowd of girlfriends and it had been all about meeting Mr Right and having a bit of an adventure. Now she’d met, loved and lost her Mr Right, parties had lost their attraction. Had turned into an ordeal, not an adventure.

  ‘Dan, this is Erica, my best friend,’ GeeGee said, taking her across to the table where drinks had been placed.

  ‘Hi, Erica. Nice to meet you,’ Dan said, pouring a glass of wine and handing it to her. ‘Give me five minutes to check on the food situation in the kitchen and I’ll be back to get to know my girlfriend’s best mate.’

  Erica smiled at GeeGee as Dan made for the kitchen. ‘He’s nice. So you’re officially his girlfriend then?’

  GeeGee nodded. ‘Seems like it. Come on, let’s go out on the terrace and mingle. Find someone out there you can chat to while I go and see if Dan needs any help.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know…’ Erica started to say, but the look on GeeGee’s face silenced her and she obediently followed her out onto the terrace.

  Candles and solar lights had been placed in strategic places, creating shadows and a glamorous ambience as dusk fell. Three or four people were grouped around the wrought-iron table in the corner, while a couple were standing by the parapet, listening to the sound of the sea below, and talking in low voices. Several other couples were standing, arms around each other, moving languidly to the music.

  Before GeeGee could drag her over to introduce her to anyone, Erica walked over to and stood behind a large potted palm tree with fairy lights wound around its trunk.

  ‘You go and help Dan,’ she said. ‘I’m fine here,’ she added as GeeGee went to protest. ‘Go. I’m happy to wait here, sip my wine and do a spot of people-watching. I promise I’ll mingle with you later, when I’ve relaxed a bit and got this inside me,’ she said, indicating her wine.

  Standing there partly hidden from general view she looked out over the Mediterranean and watched the lights twinkling on various yachts as they sailed along the coast. The view from the terrace at home was inland and lovely in its own way but a sea view was always magical. The view from the new house out over the coast was going to be like this one. Sea and boats and sky. Lots of sky. Thoughtfully she sipped her wine. Life was about to change again, only this time she was setting things in motion.

  ‘Can I interest you in one of these?’ Standing in front of her holding out a platter of nibbles was the man who’d arrived with her.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Were you really going to run away back down there, if GeeGee hadn’t opened the door?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes. I’m not much of a party animal these days,’ Erica said. ‘Unless it’s a children’s party.’

  ‘You have children?’

  ‘A little girl, Cammie. How about you?’

  ‘No wife. No children. My sister, on the other hand, has several. Five at the last count. The kids love me to bits. Tell me I’m their favourite uncle.’

  Erica laughed. ‘I bet that means you spoil them rotten and let them do things any sane parent would forbid instantly!’

  ‘Got it in one. Every child deserves an eccentric relative. And everyone deserves to be spoilt occasionally.’ A wicked smiled accompanied his words.

  He swallowed a mouthful of wine before looking at her seriously. ‘I’d love to spoil you. Banish that sad look from your eyes.’

  Erica stiffened. Up until that moment she’d been enjoying his company but now she didn’t know how to respond. Was he flirting with her? Or just trying it on. And did her eyes really look sad these days?

  ‘I’m Laurent, by the way.’

  ‘I’m E…’

  ‘Erica, yes I know. GeeGee told me.’

  ‘What else did she tell you about me?’

  ‘I only asked what your name was. I was hoping you’d tell me more over dinner tomorrow.’

  ‘Why would I have dinner with you? I don’t know you,’ Erica protested. ‘And you have no idea about who I am.’

  ‘Having dinner together would be a good starting point,’ Laurent said. ‘There’s a wonderful restaurant I know just over the border in Italy. I’d love to take you there.’

  Erica shook her head. ‘I’m sorry Laurent but…’ She paused. ‘I’m so out of practice at all this. I’m not sure I’d make a very interesting dinner companion.’

  ‘I, on the other hand, am sure you will make a delightful one,’ Laurent said. ‘Please, let me have the pleasure of finding out.’

  Erica sipped her wine and regarded Laurent thoughtfully. She couldn’t think of one real excuse why she shouldn’t have dinner with him. Just her fear of the unknown. Her fear of moving forward; leaving the past behind. She took a deep breath and smiled at Laurent before saying, ‘Thank you. I’d love to have dinner with you tomorrow evening.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  The months since she’d agreed to host Tansy’s wedding party seemed to have disappeared in an instant to Rosie. If she could have anticipated the events that would be happening over summer, particularly in the week before the wedding, she would never have agreed in the first place. But she had agreed and now the day was here. As tired and emotionally spent as she was, she was determined to give her best friend a day to remember.

  Thankfully Tansy and Rob had settled for a low-key civil wedding in the local Mairie in the end with just their respective parents followed by a champagne and cake tea for immediate family and friends in the Café Fleur.

  ‘No more than a dozen of us. Then a beach barb-b-q party in the evening for other friends who want to come and celebrate with us.’

  After a busy lunchtime, Rosie closed the restaurant and sent Tansy home to get ready.

  ‘Off you go and get married then,’ she said, kissing Tansy on the cheek. ‘We’ll see you and your new husband back here at six o’clock for your wedding tea.’

  Alicia had finished icing the cake weeks ago, and had promised to be responsible for setting it up ready for the tea. Seb was coming over to help decorate the restaurant, while Saskia had offered to make up some favour bags and decorate the tables.

  Rosie had worried whether she should suggest Saskia let Alicia take over the decorations but decided doing something creative and keeping busy would be better for her. Keeping busy was her own current modus operandi for getting over Terry’s death. Hopefully it would work for Saskia, too. The two of them may have lost the same father but their individual reactions to the loss of him from their lives couldn’t but be miles apart.

  Saskia had lost a beloved father whom she’d always remember with love. Rosie, more upset than she’d professed she’d ever be to Seb all those months ago,
found her own sorrow was fuelled more with regret and anger than love at the moment.

  Regrets and recriminations that could never now be allayed. Anger at the lost opportunity to heal both their wounds. The bridges between her and Terry had only been half rebuilt. Her growing relationship with Saskia would have to be the bridge completed in memory of their shared father.

  Seb, when he arrived, was smiling. He picked Rosie up as he kissed her and swung her round.

  ‘Good news – I’m officially Isabella’s full-time guardian. Zoe didn’t even contest the case. And I have it in writing so she can’t simply change her mind on a whim.’

  ‘That’s wonderful,’ Rosie said kissing him, before remembering the letter in the bottom of her tote. ‘I need you to read something for me. Although maybe we should leave it until tomorrow in case it’s bad news.’

  She pulled the now-crumpled envelope out and handed it to Seb. ‘It came the day of Terry’s funeral and I didn’t want to open it then.’

  She waited anxiously as Seb took the letter out of the envelope and began reading. ‘What does it say?’

  ‘That a pizza my clients bought at your establishment caused them serious stomach problems, meaning they had to book extra hotel nights, couldn’t fly home…’ Seb stopped reading and looked at Rosie who was dancing around punching the air.

  ‘Yes! Yes! Yes!’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Think about my menu, Seb. Where on it does it offer pizzas? Nowhere. It never has. And I can prove it with my food diary. You were right when you said you thought it could be a scam. I haven’t poisoned anyone. Café Fleur is safe.’

  A few hours later the beach wedding party was in full swing. Seb had generously set up the hotel barb-b-q in front of the Café Fleur and sent over a couple of his sous-chefs to do the cooking for the evening.

  Rosie, watching from the restaurant doorway, thinking about Seb and how her life had changed over the last few months, jumped as Charlie and Sarah appeared at her side.

  She’d known Tansy had invited Charlie to the beach party but seeing Sarah with him was a surprise.

  ‘Sarah, how are you?’

  ‘Be better when this little monster is in the world,’ Sarah said, lovingly stroking her stomach. ‘And we can settle down to being a family.’ She glanced at Charlie.

  Rosie looked from one to the other in surprise. ‘You two are together now?’

  Charlie nodded. ‘Getting married next month. I hope you wish us well.’

  ‘Charlie, I couldn’t be happier for you,’ Rosie said sincerely.

  ‘I hear you and Seb…?’ Charlie looked at her. Rosie smiled and nodded and he leant in and kissed her cheek. ‘Be happy, Rosie.’

  As Sarah and Charlie moved away, Rosie smiled again as she saw Seb and Saskia with Isabella swinging between them walking towards her.

  Life may have thrown her a couple of a curved balls this year but somehow she’d caught them and now she had something she could never have anticipated at the beginning of summer: a sister and a ready-made family with Seb and Isabella - an extended family she was looking forward to getting to know, and finally burying all the hurtful memories from the past with hopefully a multitude of good ones from the future.

  She took a deep breath. Life was finally starting to give her the things she’d dreamt of for so many years.

  ‘Rosie, darling, could I have a word? I have something to tell you,’ Olivia said, appearing at her side unexpectedly. ‘Zander has just asked me to marry him. And I’ve said yes, of course.’

  If you loved Rosie’s Little Café on the Riviera then turn the page for an exclusive extract from The Little Kiosk by the Sea, another sparklingly brilliant romance from Jennifer Bohnet!

  PROLOGUE

  For as long as anyone could remember the kiosk on the quay had been part of the town’s summer street furniture. A focal point for the locals as much as the holiday-makers. Every March 1st the wooden hexagonal hut re-appeared without fuss or fanfare on its designated place on the embankment between the taxi rank and the yacht club, it’s wooden struts and panels gleaming with freshly applied paint. Red, white, blue and yellow - all bright summer colours which, come October, would have been bleached and faded away by the summer weather. The jet black orb on the top of the domed roof was a favourite with the gulls, who perched there serenely surveying the scene before swooping down and stealing ice creams and pasties from unwary holiday-makers.

  As well as its annual paint make-over, the kiosk had occasionally been refurbished inside. These days it boasted an electric connection for the necessary computer, a kettle, mugs, a round tin that was never empty of biscuits and a small electric heater to keep the occupant warm in early and late season when the wind off the river blew straight in through the half open stable door.

  There was a small shelf unit for holding tickets and the cash box, a cupboard for locking things in, space to the left of the door for the outside advertising boards to come in over night and three fold away canvas director chairs for sitting outside in the sun with friends when business was slow.

  The whole atmosphere of the town changed as the locals welcomed the re-appearance of the hut which signalled the imminent arrival of the holiday-makers, the second home owners and the day trippers. Maybe this would be the year fortunes would be made. If not fortunes at least enough money to see the families through winter without getting deep into overdrafts. The last thing anyone wanted - or needed - was another wet season.

  This summer though, March 1st came and went with no sign of the kiosk. All winter rumours had rumbled around town about its demise and locals feared the worst: The council had never liked it and wanted it gone - not true the mayor said. Health and Safety had condemned it as an unfit workplace - but nobody would give details of the problem. The rent for the summer season had doubled and Owen Hutchinson, owner of the pleasure boats he operated through the kiosk, had refused to pay. A fact he denied.

  Then, two weeks before Easter, without any warning the re-painted kiosk appeared in its usual place. Collectively the town heaved a sigh of relief. Panic over. Time to enjoy the summer.

  CHAPTER ONE

  SABINE

  ‘Two tickets for the afternoon river trip? No problem,” Sabine said, smiling at the young woman standing in front of the kiosk.

  ‘Here you go. We cast off at 2.30 today so make sure you’re back here at least 15 minutes before.’

  “Definitely. We’ll be here. It won’t be rough will it?’ the girl asked as she handed over the ticket money. ‘I’m not a very good sailor. We’re down on holiday and my boy f…my husband loves boats so I thought I’d treat him.’ She looked along the embankment. ‘He’s wandered off to look at some old steam engine or something.’

  ‘The river will be as smooth as the proverbial baby’s bottom this afternoon,’ Sabine promised.

  ‘Great. I’d hate to spoil things by being sea sick.”

  ‘On honeymoon are we?’ Sabine said looking at the shiny ring on the girls left hand.

  The girl flushed. ‘How’d you guess?’

  “Oh something to do with the way you forgot to call him your husband? You obviously haven’t had time to get used to saying it yet.’

  ‘Two days,’ the girl confided. She leant in. ‘We eloped.’

  ‘Very brave of you,’ Sabine said smiling.

  The girl shrugged. “Necessity rather than bravery,” she said. “See you this afternoon.”

  Sabine watched her walk away and join her new husband who greeted her with a lingering kiss. ‘May married life be kind to you,’ she muttered before turning her attention back to sorting the kiosk out for the season.

  Two weeks late arriving on the quay meant there’d barely been time to set up things before the first river trip of the season. Not that there was a lot to do really but Sabine liked to have everything to hand. Ticket books, cash tin, receipt book, tide-table book, chalk, mugs, foldaway chairs, kettle, bottles of water, co
ffee and biscuits. That just left finding space for the first four paintings of the season.

  A couple of years ago she’d discovered the tourists liked her pencil sketches of the town and the river. One quiet afternoon she’d sat in one of the canvas directors chairs outside the kiosk and idly started to sketch the river and its boats. She’d wanted a small picture to hang in her newly decorated bathroom, with its blue and white nautical theme. A tourist collecting tickets for a boat trip had seen it and asked to buy it when finished - provided she’d sign it for him.

  That initial sale had thrown her into a panic. She’d no idea what to charge for an unframed original picture. It wasn’t as if she was famous or anything - or likely to be. In the end she suggested a sum and the tourist had shaken his head at her - before giving her double what she had asked and saying ‘ you really don’t know how talented you are do you?’

  Sabine had taken the money thoughtfully. Yes, she did know she had a talent. Years ago she’d been all set to go to art college but instead had to give up her place and stay at home to help look after her mother. Something that she’d done willingly.

  By the time she was free to pursue a career, the time to go to art college had passed and marriage and family life had eventually taken over. If she drew anything in the following years it was simply because she fancied doing it.

  After that first unexpected sale she’d started to do a couple of drawings a week, surprised by how quickly they sold. These days she spent winter painting and drawing views of the town and the river, ready for summer. By the end of the season she rarely had any left. Her secret ‘just for fun’ bank account grew substantially every summer.

  The one she hung now on the folded back stable door was a firm favourite with the tourists. A pen and ink drawing of the old Butterwalk with its columns and hanging baskets it sold well every season.

  Once she was satisfied the picture was hanging straight she stood with her back to the kiosk looking across the river and along the embankment, breathing deeply and thinking about the future. Was this really going to be the last season she’d be working in the kiosk? If the council carried out their threat at the end of summer forcing Owen and the other boat owners to use an un-imaginative refurbished office on the other side of the road, it would be. No way could she bear the thought of working indoors all summer long. Still Owen and the Robertsons were on the case, demanding a public meeting before a decision was taken and getting up a petition.