Page 8 of Hibiscus Heights (Crown Island #4)

D eb stared at the mirror on her mother’s vanity while raucous laughter floated inside. Her brothers were still telling stories on the deck. She’d heard most of them before, and Matteo was waiting for her at the Ferry Cafe.

So here she was, looking more than a little tousled. She’d planned to meet Matteo as she was—until she had a good look at herself. Quickly, she finger-combed her tangled, windblown hair and began braiding it over one shoulder.

Footsteps sounded on the wooden floor behind her.

Deb saw her mother’s face reflected in the mirror. “I heard Rachel set you up with a date tonight.”

“It’s just a meet-up at the Ferry Cafe. Nothing fancy, Mom.”

Bitsy put a hand on Deb’s shoulder. “I can see that, and I mean that in the kindest way. Here, let me do that for you.”

“I can manage.”

“Of course you can. But I still like to look after you, so humor me. I went through five messy boys before I got to play dress-up with you. Sit down so I can reach you.”

Bitsy picked up a brush and gestured toward her vanity chair with it.

Deb eased onto the chair, smiling at the memories. “I always felt it was you and me against a pack of wolves.”

“They only teased you because they loved you. Boys often have trouble expressing their tender feelings.”

“It’s probably easier for them when they’re little.” Like Teddy , she thought.

While Deb watched her mother in the mirror, Bitsy deftly worked her blond hair into a thick braid with nimble fingers. A few gray hairs now mingled with Deb’s natural highlights. Watching their reflection, Deb realized the growing resemblance between her and her mother.

She took after her father in terms of her long limbs, but she and her mother looked strikingly similar. They were often mistaken for sisters.

Deb would be happy to age like her mother, who now played pickleball at the club, having given up the more demanding game of tennis.

Her mother secured the ends of her hair. “What do you think?”

“Much better.” Deb touched her mother’s hand.

Bitsy picked up a perfume bottle. “How about a spritz of this orange blossom parfum you gave me for Mother’s Day?”

Deb nodded and closed her eyes. The scent of heavenly white flowers filled the air. It reminded her of the citrus trees in her yard.

Bitsy tilted Deb’s chin up. “Now, you need some lipstick, and I have a sweater you can take. It’s chilly near the water.”

With a slip of pale pink on her lips and a matching cotton sweater around her shoulders, Deb was ready.

Her mother hugged her. “You look natural, not like you’re trying to impress him.”

Adjusting the cardigan, Deb grinned. “That’s because I’m not.”

“No, you never have,” her mother said thoughtfully. “Not since—” She stopped. “Sorry, that’s ancient history. I hope you have an enjoyable time this evening.”

Deb ignored her mother’s slip of the tongue. She knew she didn’t mean it.

After leaving the boisterous family dinner, Deb pedaled toward the ferry on her bike. She loved this time of the evening when moonlight shimmered on the waves and a light chill swept in from the sea.

Her bike tires hummed against the pavement as she cycled through the quiet, colorful streets of Crown Island, waving to neighbors out for an after-dinner stroll.

She’d have one glass of wine or sparkling water with Matteo. Rachel’s matchmaking attempts usually ended in disaster, but something in her sister-in-law’s voice when she mentioned Matteo had made Deb curious enough to agree.

Or it might have been her mention of vineyards.

She slowed as she approached the Ferry Cafe, its cherry-red exterior glowing under strings of fairy lights lining its outdoor patios.

Unlike the bustling daytime crowd of tourists waiting for the mainland ferry, the evening clientele at the cafe was more relaxed and discerning. The owner was a talented chef who had a loyal local following. The restaurant was more intimate after sunset.

Deb parked her bike and smoothed her sundress. With her mother’s assistance, she felt more confident about her appearance. There was beach casual, and then there was beach grunge. Even on her morning beach runs, she liked to look fresh and somewhat coordinated.

Crown Island was a small town, and appearances were part of her job. Who would hire a disheveled, ill-kempt designer for their home or business?

Appearances mattered.

When Deb stepped inside, a familiar voice rang out.

“Look who’s gracing us with her presence. Hello, princess.” Didier, the cafe’s owner, looked up from his reservation book with a grin that creased the corners of his eyes.

His salt-and-pepper beard and easy manner made him a favorite among the island’s residents. He’d arrived from Switzerland to take surfing lessons and fell in love with the island.

“It’s good to see you,” she said, bestowing the customary double kisses on his cheeks, plus an extra one because they were old friends.

“Are you meeting someone?” he asked.

“A man named Matteo. He’s not from here.”

Happi, the bartender, appeared beside Didier with a knowing smile. “Probably the wine guy.”

Happi’s auburn hair was twisted into a bun, and her short-sleeved blouse revealed intricate tattoos on one arm that chronicled her volunteer work through Central and South America.

Happi nodded toward a man on the patio. “He’s been nursing a fine glass of wine for a while. He was polite and slid a nice tip discreetly across the bar.” She paused. “Is this business or personal?”

“My sister-in-law set me up with him. She met him on the ferry.”

Didier stroked his beard. “Do you want me to keep an eye out for you?”

“I can handle myself, but thanks.” Deb appreciated their concern. “One drink, then I’m going home.”

“Sure you are.” Happi’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Deb followed Happi through the restaurant, past tables of diners and a pianist playing off to one side where people were dancing. A man at a table on the patio stood as they approached, and Deb was pleasantly surprised.

Matteo’s effortless elegance suggested expensive tastes and a life of extensive travel, but he wore it lightly. His linen shirt was perfectly pressed but rolled at the sleeves, and his dark hair sparkled with threads of silver at his temples.

Happi introduced them, and when Deb extended her hand, he took it with care and held her gaze. “I’m honored you’ve joined me, and I apologize for my last-minute invitation.”

“And by text,” she added, teasing him. She detected a subtle, cultured Argentinian accent.

He touched his heart. “Again, my deepest regret. I’m afraid my children introduced me to the habit. With that generation, texting is the main way they communicate. Did I act too impetuously?”

She smiled at his explanation. “I’m here, aren’t I?” Matteo seemed genuine and certainly contrite enough.

“Rachel described you perfectly, though she failed to mention how lovely you are.” He pulled out a chair for her. “She said you are independent, accomplished, and sophisticated.”

Deb smiled to herself. He was certainly complimentary. Maybe a little too much.

Still, she eased into the chair, accepting his compliment with ease. When she was younger, she used to protest. Now, knowing how she worked to maintain her health, she felt she’d earned any compliment that came her way.

“What will you have to drink?” he asked.

She eyed his glass. “Happi tells me you’re having a very fine wine.”

“I’m glad she thinks so.” Matteo signaled Happi, who already had a glass of the same deep red wine poured for her. “This malbec is from my vineyard in Mendoza.”

“Rachel mentioned that.” She swirled the wine and breathed in the bouquet, pleased by its complexity. “Didier is known for his excellent wine selection.”

Watching her, he said, “You might pick up hints of blackberry, violet, and vanilla.”

Deb tasted the wine, noting its smooth finish. “I also detect black cherry and a smoky note.”

“Very impressive.” His eyes sparkled with approval. “Rachel told me you’re an interior designer. That must keep you busy in a place like this.”

“Busy enough.” Deb relaxed despite her earlier wariness. “Between vacation homes and a major hotel renovation, I rarely run out of projects. What brings you to Crown Island besides your wine?”

“Partly business, as I’m exploring distribution opportunities along the coast. And partly pleasure because I needed to relax on a sunny beach.” He gestured toward the ocean. “This seemed like the perfect place to decompress before I continue to Napa for the harvest.”

Deb thought about that. “Having vineyards in both regions means your harvests take place at different times of the year. That’s convenient. Where do you spend most of your time?”

“It’s fairly equal,” Matteo replied. “It’s a benefit to have vineyards in opposite hemispheres, so I split my time between Argentina for malbec harvests and Napa Valley for my cabernet sauvignon.

Add in two ex-wives and four children divided between the locations, and life gets complicated.

Still, we try to be one big happy family. Well, almost.”

“Almost?”

“You know how women are.”

The words slipped out casually, but Deb caught the assumption immediately. “Only some women,” she said, sharpening her tone like a warning. “Just like some men.”

Matteo’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “That was poorly phrased. I deserved that correction.”

His easy acceptance of the rebuke surprised her. Most men would have defended their position or changed the subject. “You did.”

“I’m sorry, but I like that you called me on it.” He leaned forward slightly. “I find intelligence and independence extremely attractive in a woman. Too many women say what they think men want to hear. I don’t. I want to know the real person.”

Deb recognized the subtext of the word independent, which she’d learned probably meant, I’m not looking for anything serious . That suited her just fine. “Honesty makes conversations more interesting,” she added.