So it wasn’t a date. Just friends. She could cope with that, couldn’t she? A few weeks ago she’d hated this man’s guts, and the only way she’d eat dinner with him would be if she could sneak a bit of arsenic into his pasta. But now things were different. Friends went out to dinner together all the time.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘But I’m only going if you drive.’
He reached out for her hand, folding his palm around it as he shook. ‘It’s a deal.’
Letting out a long exhale, Cesca tried to let her body relax. A night-time lakeside drive followed by dinner at a local restaurant was the perfect way to spend an evening. It was exactly the sort of thing people dreamed of, when they made plans to vacation at Lake Como. Though her inner-girl was excited at the thought of it, it was almost impossible to ignore her inner doubts.
Sam released her hand. ‘Let’s go and get ready.’
She nodded. Game on, then.
17
If music be the food of love, play on
– Twelfth Night
The drive to the restaurant did nothing to ease Cesca’s nerves. An awkward silence had filled the car as Sam deftly manoeuvred around the lakeside road, his bicep muscles flexing every time he changed gear. His other arm was resting on the door, where the window was wound down, letting in the cool night air drifting in from the water.
Sam was right, wherever they were going was really off the beaten track. He drove further up into the Grigna mountains, the lake receding into the distance, and she could feel her ears start to pop with the change in air pressure as they ascended. Finally, when it felt as if they were in the middle of nowhere, he turned a corner and they stopped beside a cliff-side cave.
‘This is it?’ There were a few cars parked along the grass, but nothing else. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, really. Something more glitzy? Swankier? More Hollywood?
‘It looks better from the other side,’ Sam told her, climbing out of the car. Before she’d had time to open her door, he was doing it for her, offering his free hand to help her out.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, still staring at the cliff top ahead. Holding her hand, Sam led her towards the edge. It was only when they reached it that she realised just how high up they were. The lake below looked so far away, the lights from the villages surrounding it twinkling like tiny fireflies. To the right were some stone steps, and they climbed down them, Cesca grasping the old, rusty rail that had been put there years before. Sam walked ahead, the steps only wide enough for one, but he kept looking behind him, asking her if she was OK.
They reached the bottom, which led to a stone floor, and in front of them was a wide cave. The exterior was festooned with lights and colourful flowering plants, while inside there were a few chairs and tables, as well as a bar at the back of the cave.
‘This is Grotto Maria,’ Sam said. ‘My parents used to come here when I was a kid.’
‘It’s beautiful.’ She looked all around. Cesca wasn’t sure she’d ever even heard of a restaurant in a cave before, but she could see why it was already so full of people. Candles flickered on the tables, making the jagged rock walls change in colour as the light hit them. A low murmur of conversation echoed in the cave, accompanied by soft music emanating from the speakers set into the ceiling.
A waiter came over, his face splitting into a smile when he saw Sam. They shook hands, exchanging a barrage of words in Italian that Cesca couldn’t understand.
‘This is Cesca, a friend.’ Sam finally reverted to English when he introduced her to the waiter. ‘And this is Alfredo, he’s worked here ever since I can remember.’
‘Bella, bella,’ Alfredo said, extending a hand to Cesca. ‘Have you ever eaten here before?’
She shook her head ‘No, it’s my first visit.’
‘Oh, then we will treat you like a queen. Please follow me, we can get you seated and bring you an aperitivo.’ With
that Alfredo led them around the edge of the restaurant. Cesca glanced at the customers, trying to see if they’d noticed Sam. From the way they were all so deep in conversation, she didn’t think so.
At the far end of the bar there was a small, natural doorway that led out onto another cliff. This one was narrower than the one at the main entrance, but had a guardrail all around it. In the middle of the space was a single table and two chairs, both positioned to overlook the amazing view below.
‘Signorina?’ Alfredo pulled a chair out for Cesca. Sam took the chair opposite her, waving Alfredo off when he tried to help.
There was the usual shuffle of menus and drinks, the pouring of water and the offering of a glass filled with pink liquid and a slice of orange.
‘This is a negroni,’ Alfredo told her. ‘It is gin, vermouth and Campari. Designed to open your palate for the food.’
She noticed that Sam turned down his own drink, preferring to pour some water from the carafe. Cesca was pleased about that, she didn’t really want him driving them home half-cut. It was strange, learning all these things about a man she’d thought she detested. He was responsible, kind. Words she’d never thought she’d use to describe Sam Carlton.
When the waiters left, it was just the two of them again, and Cesca glanced up from the menu, catching Sam’s eye.
‘Do you see anything you like?’ Sam asked.