Page 32 of Take a Moment

We make our way outside and across the plaza to an Italian cafe-restaurant called Conti’s, nestled right in the centre of the cluster of bars and eateries that overlook the canal and the International Conference Centre.

‘This all right?’ Emmanuel asks me. ‘They do great coffee and delicious toasted panettone.’

‘Sounds wonderful.’

We enter the warmly lit cafe. It’s certainly very inviting, with its shelves of authentic Italian produce, and wide selection of Italian-style cakes and pastries arranged beautifully in the glass counter by the bar. Emmanuel leads me to a small table in the far corner, away from the smattering of customers further towards the front, and we get ourselves settled.

‘Let’s get our order in and then we can chat properly.’ Emmanuel hands me a menu. ‘I’m going to have coffee and panettone. Have whatever you like. This is on me.’

‘Oh, there’s no need for that,’ I protest lightly. ‘I can get it.’

‘Absolutely not.’ She holds up an instructive finger, which seems a little at odds with her kind and bubbly demeanour. ‘This is my way of welcoming you to the team.’

As this is my first proper encounter with my new manager, I decide it’s best not to get into an unnecessary bickering match over the bill.

‘OK, if you’re sure. Thank you, that’s very kind. I’ll just have a small skinny cappuccino, thanks.’

‘And to eat?’

‘Nothing for me, thanks.’

‘Now, Alex, I hope you’re not declining out of politeness.’ She cocks her head a little.

‘I’m not. I promise. I’m just trying to live a bit more healthily these days.’

‘All right then. That I can understand, even if I don’t abide by it myself.’ She chuckles at her own joke and I follow suit, already won over by her easygoing demeanour.

The waiter appears to take our order, which Emmanuel delivers on our behalf. He then disappears behind the bar to make our coffees.

‘So, tell me, how was your trip down?’ she asks me. ‘Are you all settled into your new apartment?’

‘Yes, that’s me sorted. Give or take a couple of boxes of stuff I’m wondering why I kept.’

‘That’s always the way. My husband accuses me of being a hoarder but I don’t see him complaining when I magically produce something he needs in the moment. Selective grumbling, I call it.’

‘Sounds very apt.’ I laugh, pleased that my new boss is so open and friendly.

‘Are you all settled in your new place? Finding your way around all right?’

‘Yes and yes. The city centre is nice and compact, which makes it easy to navigate.’

‘That’s good. And your move went well?’

‘Very smooth. The removal people even left me some food so I didn’t have to go straight out to the shops when I arrived.’

‘That was kind of them. What a lovely touch.’

We pause our conversation as the waiter delivers our drinks and Emmanuel’s panettone. I immediately regret not ordering some myself. The sweet, bready aroma wafts into my nostrils and my stomach grumbles in annoyance at having only been fed fresh fruit for breakfast.

‘Would you like some?’ Emmanuel spots my look of longing.

‘Oh, no. Sorry, it’s just the smell. It’s wonderful.’ I can tell I’m not fooling her one bit.

‘Here.’ She plonks one of her three slices onto her unused napkin and places it beside my coffee cup. ‘One piece won’t do you any harm. You’ll need the energy. First week of a new job is always tiring.’

I realise she’s spot on. I should have thought of that myself and allowed myself a little more breakfast fuel. There’s healthy living and there’s practically starving myself, like I was doing in the run-up to the wedding (I’ve now admitted to myself), and I’m not sure I’ve found the right balance yet.

‘OK, thanks. You’re right. I feel bad taking yours, though.’

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