The cook, whom Holly had briefly seen the night before, appeared on the terrace, wearing a uniform and carrying a Thermos. “More coffee?” she asked politely.
“Thank you, Consuela,” Paul said. “One for Holly and one for me.”
When Consuela poured the coffee into Holly’s cup and its smell rose to her nostrils, Holly instinctively gripped her stomach. She turned her head, which only sent a whiff of pastries her way and made things worse.
Holly rose from her chair. “I’m sorry, I’m actually not hungry.”
When she turned, she caught a concerned look from Mirabelle, then her gaze collided with Paul’s. “Do you want me to get you anything?” he asked. “I’ll come with you.”
She waved him off. “No, no. It’s fine. Why don’t you enjoy your breakfast? I’ll be down in a little while.”
When she reached the inside of the house, Holly sighed. Maybe lying down would help curb her nausea.
Paul watched Holly walk inside before turning back and sitting down at the table.
“Well, who’s ever heard of somebody not liking Consuela’s food?” his mother said loud enough for Consuela, who was just about to follow Holly back into the house, to hear.
“I didn’t say Holly didn’t like her food. I said it caused her an upset stomach,” Paul corrected his mother with a tight jaw. He hadn’t expected he’d have to fight with his mother over breakfast. Normally she didn’t start spewing venom until lunch.
He turned to Consuela, who was still hovering at the French doors. “Dinner was fabulous, Consuela. Both Holly and I loved it. Holly said she would love the recipe, if it’s not too much trouble.” Paul wouldn’t allow his mother to turn the staff against Holly.
“Of course, I’ll get it for her.” A smile spread on the cook’s face.
“Thank you!” Paul turned back and took a sip from his coffee.
“Did you have a nice walk last night?” Mirabelle asked, smiling at him from across the table.
He winked at her. “Very nice.”
“I’m sure Tara would love to go for a walk along the beach too,” his mother suggested. “It’s such a great day.”
“Nora,” his father interjected. “We’re only just having breakfast. Let’s not plan out the whole day yet.”
His mother smiled at him warmly. “I’m just trying to make sure our guest doesn’t get bored, darling.”
“I’ll be going for a little walk on the beach with Jonathan later,” Olivia helped out, turning to Tara. “Maybe you want to come along with us? But I can’t promise how far we’ll get. It’ll depend on that little rascal here.” She ruffled Jonathan’s hair, who, to Paul’s surprise, ate his eggs rather quietly.
“That would be nice,” Tara said.
“I think I’ll join you,” Quentin added.
Olivia raised an eyebrow. “But didn’t you say just a half hour ago that you needed to work?”
“That can wait.”
“Oh, dear!” Mirabelle suddenly exclaimed.
“What is it?” Paul’s father asked, concern in his voice as he leaned toward her.
Mirabelle sighed. “I forgot my pills in my room.”
“I’ll get them for you,” Paul’s father offered.
She put a hand on his arm, preventing him from getting up. “No, no. Stay and finish your breakfast. You won’t find the right ones. I’ll get them.” Then she looked across the table. “Paul, would you mind giving me a hand?”
Paul shot up from his chair. “Of course.” Though he didn’t think his great-aunt needed any help, he went around the table and helped her out of the chair, then offered his arm to lead her into the house. She appeared to walk a little slower than usual.
As soon as they were inside, Mirabelle let go of his arm and started walking faster. Suspicious, he stopped. “What’s going on?”
Mirabelle turned her head and waved him forward. “If you don’t want anybody to overhear our conversation, you’d better get a move on. One would think you were an old man, walking so slowly.”
As Paul followed her into the hallway and down the corridor to the only guest room on the main floor, he couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “You’re not really looking for your pills, are you?”
“Do I look like I need pills?” She rolled her eyes and entered her room, then indicated he should shut the door behind him.
“What are you up to?” Paul asked