Page 18 of Beneath the Sapphire Sky

“Won’t be a moment, Dad.”

She delivered the antipasto platters she’d just made to the outdoor table and chatted with the customers, answering their questions about the region and local specialty varietals. She collected some empty glasses on her way past another table and nodded at their requests for another bottle.

“An ’18 Zinfandel, please, Dad. Table nine.”

She dumped the dirty glasses on the sink bench and went back out to the bar. Surprise stopped her in her tracks. Her father still stood there in the same spot.

He pushed a tray with new glasses and the open bottle toward her. “Thought you might like to do your wine mojo. The customers love it when you do.”

Happiness flooded her. “Thanks! I haven’t had much chance lately.”

Her father leaned on the bar and poked the edge of the tray with the end of one finger. “About that… I’ve been talking to Ruth Malley, at Blue Care, about Mum. She’s doing up the paperwork tomorrow, but we’ll be having Adelaide come each weekday to be with her. This week will only be half-days, so Jem gets used to her being here. It helps that she remembers Addie. But from next week she’ll be here from eight until four, and until seven on Fridays.”

Belle’s heart jumped and pounded. Luckily she wasn’t holding the tray yet; she really thought she would’ve dropped it. She looked around for someone holding a phone or camera, certain she was being punked.

Her gaze landed back on her father. “Are you serious?”

He patted the aged wooden bar. “Yes. Mum isn’t going to get better; the series of mild strokes she had have caused too much damage. I know she’s getting too much for you on your own. I’ve known it for a while, but I didn’t want… Let’s just say that it was time.”

Belle blinked to force the stinging in her eyes to not form tears. She was at work, she had to be professional. This was the most honest her father had been about her mother’s condition, even though she and Jack already knew her long-term prognosis was far from good.

A small gasp left her, unbidden.

If the carer worked out, and she possibly could as Adelaide was known to her mother, Belle would have time to study for the Master Sommelier course.

Her father pounding her on the back made her blink rapidly and suck in a deep breath.

“You gotta breathe, Belle,” he said, half-jokingly.

She threw her arms around his neck, unable to express how his words made her feel.

“Thank you, Dad.”

He patted her back. “I know it’s been hard for you lately. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise… It’s for the best.”

She stepped back and swiped at her eyes, sending him a wonky, lopsided smile.

“I’d better go give these people their wine. You know how they get; they might revolt on us.”

Her father laughed and shooed her away. “I’ll head out to the deck to sit with Mum. She loves listening to Dean sing. Yell if you need help.”

Belle nodded and scooped up the tray containing the wine and glasses. A wondrous sense of lightheartedness buoyed her steps. A feeling she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

A massive smile erupted on her mouth. She couldn’t wait to tell Dante what had happened. He’d be so happy for her. From where she stood right now, life couldn’t get much better.

Chapter Eight

Belle pushed openthe door of the fancy hotel room with her hip, her large rolling suitcase in one hand, the door key in the other.

Mallory-Jayne still used old-fashioned, normal keys. The boutique hotel looked and felt like it belonged firmly in the nineteen twenties. Gorgeous art deco furnishings topped off the stylised walls and trims.

“I should’ve worn a flapper dress,” she muttered.

“What was that?”

She glanced at Dante over her shoulder and grinned. “Nothing. I was just thinking about how Mallory-Jayne left renovating for so long that the hotel has become super fashionable again. What goes around, comes around.”

Dante laughed. “Sure does.” He glanced around the room and shut the door behind him. “I can’t believe the shape this place is in. It only looks a few years old, not nearly a hundred. It’s immaculate.”

---