The Mermaid Garden(16)
“I think you’re the first Argentine to set foot in the Polzanze,” she said for lack of anything better to say.
“That surprises me. South Americans love to travel.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to welcome you,” she said, averting her eyes a moment. His gaze was too heavy to carry. “It’s nice to hear a foreign accent for a change.”
“I would imagine a place of great beauty like this would attract people from all over the world.”
“You flatter me.”
“I mean to flatter you.” His comment was delivered with such casualness that she did not take it for flirtation.
She smiled politely. “Thank you.” She liked him already. He didn’t have Jake’s shallow good looks, but the lines and imperfections of a man who had experienced life in all its shades and textures.
“I hope you weren’t hoping for an English artist.”
“Not at all. I have no preferences so long as the person is right for the position.” She noticed the silver buckle on his belt, engraved with his initials: R.D.S.
He grinned, his skin creasing into deeply carved laughter lines around his mouth and eyes. “A present from my father.”
“It’s lovely. Let’s sit down.”
He sat on the sofa, and Marina sank dreamily into the armchair. She had quite forgotten Heather, who remained in the doorway, transfixed, a blush soaked into her skin.
“Would you like tea or coffee?” Marina asked, remembering herself.
“I’d love a fruit juice.”
“I’ll have one, too. Orange juice, freshly squeezed,” said Marina.
Heather looked surprised. “Shall I bring some nice biscuits?”
“Good idea, Heather.”
“A little ice in your juice?”
“No, thank you,” he replied.
Her blush deepened. “Anything else?” She made not the slightest movement to leave.
“Just the door, Heather,” said Marina deliberately. “Close it behind you.
“So, what’s an Argentine doing in Devon?”
“You might well ask. I’m a long way from home.”
“Very.”
“I work for an advertising agency in Buenos Aires, on the creative side. I do all the artwork. My father died, so I decided to take a sabbatical.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He was very old. I am the youngest child of five, by twenty years.”
“Quite an afterthought.”
“Something like that. Anyway, I decided to travel. So, I have passed the last couple of months traveling around Europe.”
“Painting?”
“Yes. It’s a good way to take time to see the places properly.”
“You must have a wonderful collection by now.”
“I do. But I’m afraid I don’t keep them all. I can’t travel around with suitcases full of pictures.”
“Of course not. So, what do you do with them? Don’t tell me you throw them away?”
“No. That would be too painful. I’m attached to each one, in a way. So, I leave them in hotels, restaurants … or I give them away.”
“That’s generous of you.”
“It’s easy to be generous. They cost me nothing.” He shrugged. “And anyway, they aren’t worth much. I’m not famous. I’m not even well known.”
“If you were, you wouldn’t be here.”
“You’re probably right. I came to Devon by chance and found it so beautiful I decided I would stay. As I was trying to work out how that would be possible, I saw your advertisement in the local paper. I would like to remain here for the summer.”
“Then return to Argentina?”
“Yes. Back to Buenos Aires.”
“I have never been to Argentina.”
“It is beautiful, too. Judging from your good taste here at the hotel, I would say you could not fail to love it.”
“They say it is full of Italians who speak Spanish and want to be English.” She laughed, relaxing into her chair. He had such an appealing face she wanted the interview to go on and on. She knew already that Rafa Santoro would be spending the summer at the Polzanze, whether he could paint or not.
“I suppose that is quite accurate, where I am concerned, at least. Although I don’t think I’d want to be English. I’m happy being who I am.”
At that moment the door opened and Heather entered with a tray of juice and biscuits, followed by Harvey, keen to see what all the fuss was about. He had ordered the quartet in the hall back to work, knowing that Marina would hate them to be standing idle, especially Bertha, who was as lazy as a sow in sunshine.
“Meet Harvey,” said Marina, eyes brightening at the sight of him. He shook Rafa’s hand and grinned down at him. Marina recognized his approval at once and felt her spirits soar. “Harvey has been with us since we bought this place eighteen years ago. He’s my Man Friday. I couldn’t have made a success of this without him.”