“So, there’s no point trying to sound English?” he replied with a laugh.
“Oh, no, that would be foolish. You won’t have any admirers at all if you sound like everyone else.”
“I’ll lay it on thickly, then.”
The terrace was almost full. They sat at a small round table and looked at each other across the candlelight.
“So, what’s this boyfriend of Clementine’s like?”
“I introduced them,” Sylvia replied proudly. “Do you mind if I smoke?”
“Not at all.”
“Can I offer you one?”
He shook his head. “I’m surprised a beautiful woman like you smokes.”
She pulled the packet out of her bag and tapped it with a talon. “I’ve tried to give up, so many times, but it’ll take more than willpower.”
“Like what?”
“Love,” she stated simply, fixing him with feline eyes. “If I fell for a nonsmoker, hook, line, and sinker, I’d give up for him.”
“I think you should give up for yourself.”
“Been there, done that, failed miserably.” She placed the cigarette between her scarlet lips and lit it with one of the tea lights set decoratively in purple tumblers in the center of the table. He watched her puff a few times, then sit back as the nicotine loosened her up.
Jake decided to take their order himself. He liked the look of Sylvia, full-bodied and feminine, like a beautiful ginger cat. He had seen her up there once or twice before, but she hadn’t noticed him other than to say a brief hello in response to his greeting. Now she tossed him a smile as Rafa ordered a martini and a glass of Chardonnay. Then she settled her pretty eyes onto the Argentine again and blew a ribbon of smoke out of her mouth provocatively.
Jake withdrew inside as his gut twisted with jealousy. He resented Rafa more than ever. While Rafa resided at the hotel Jake didn’t stand a chance. He gave their order to the waiter. Then stood a while, watching Sylvia from the conservatory, unwilling to tear himself away.
“You know, Clemmie’s told me a lot about you.” Sylvia took a sip of wine.
“Has she?”
“Yes, she came rushing in after she’d seen you in the Black Bean Coffee Shop. She’s a child, really. I’m like a mother to her.”
“It was such a coincidence, meeting like that.” He smiled at the recollection, and Sylvia noticed his eyes sparkle. “She’s quirky, I like that. In Argentina we say, un personaje. So tell me, is her boyfriend good enough for her?”
“Absolutely,” she replied with emphasis. “They’re like two peas in a pod.”
“Her stepmother doesn’t like the sound of him,” Rafa added.
“That’s because they have a bad relationship. Clemmie says she’s a drama queen because she likes to be the center of attention. I imagine it’s the stress of wanting children and not being able to have them that has driven her a little crazy.”
“How long have you known Marina?”
“I don’t really know her. Only through Clemmie. The problem is she’s from a different class to Grey and that bothers Clemmie. It’s a very unattractive English trait, this class obsession. I’m sure you don’t have anything like it in Argentina.”
“Believe me, prejudice exists all over the world.”
“Well, Clemmie thinks that Submarine—I mean, Marina—set her sights on Grey because she wanted to move up in the world, socially. I suspect they just fell in love. After all, they hardly hobnob with the aristos. But no child is ever going to love a stepparent, however hard the parent tries. I’m sure Marina has tried until she’s blue in the face. Clemmie is very stubborn.”
While she spoke he listened attentively, his eyes steady and penetrating. “This class thing, is it based on family or education?”
“The two go together. I imagine Marina’s family are working class, or lower-middle class. She certainly wasn’t privately educated. I should know because I wasn’t, either.”
“Have you met her parents?”
Sylvia shook her head. “Clemmie’s never met them. I think Marina keeps them well hidden, don’t you?”
“You mean, she’s ashamed of them?”
“Perhaps.” She laughed. “I don’t think they even attended their wedding. Clemmie once remarked that they married in the local registry office as soon as the divorce came through. For two people in love, that’s not very romantic, is it?”
“Some people don’t like to make a big noise.”
“Clemmie says Marina loves a big noise, if she’s in the middle of it.” She lowered her voice, aware that she might be overheard. “I bet she didn’t want her family there to let her down. She presents quite posh, doesn’t she? I mean, her accent, it’s rather pretentious, isn’t it, like she’s trying too hard?”