their work behind. Between what’s left here and what I do in the week, we should have plenty to use in the advertising.’
‘ Sounds good to me.’ He looked across in Stephen’s direction and smiled. ‘I’m very keen to see how Stephen gets on. You’ve certainly got your work cut out with him.’ He glanced sideways at her. ‘And with me, too, if I do decide to come to a few classes. I must confess I’m quite tempted.’
She opened her mouth to urge him to yield to temptation, but Maria appeared at the patio doors.
‘ La cena è pronta ,’ she announced.
‘ Dinner is ready,’ Jenny translated. She smiled round at the group. ‘Shall we go and see what’s waiting for us?’
Chapter Six
Jenny sat back in her chair, cupping her mug of coffee. She glanced round at the empty table, and felt very pleased with herself – she was the only person who’d stayed behind on the terrace after lunch. Everyone else, including Max, had gone back to the part of the house or garden that they were painting.
She’d set them the task of practising how to mix watercolour with pastel and coloured pencil, something she’d demonstrated that morning. They’d had time to start practising before the end of the morning, and she was thrilled that they were all so keen to get going again.
And she was also very relieved that she’d persuaded Maria to serve a lunch that was more in keeping with the eating habits of the British than the Italians. When Maria had come to her that morning and suggested an Italian-style lunch of antipasti followed by two pasta dishes, one after the other, and ending with tiramisù , she’d had a horrible vision of the whole class finishing their lunch and taking to their beds for a never-ending afternoon siesta.
Using all of her tact, she’d got Maria to scale down the lunch to a comparatively modest prosciutto with melon, followed by a dish of farfalle pasta lightly tossed in a basil pesto, accompanied by a classic Orvieto white wine, and finally a large yellow peach, some pecarino cheese and coffee. It had proved to be ideal – delicious, but not so heavy that it dulled their enthusiasm for the afternoon’s activity.
She glanced at her watch. They would have started on their work by now. She’d let them have a little longer, and then go and see how they were getting on. She’d leave Paula and Howard’s work till last as she’d seen their drawings that morning, and she’d give George’s work a miss for the same reason.
Finding out what each of the group had chosen to paint was going to be one of the most interesting parts of the week. Their choice of location spoke volumes about their character and interests, and, to a certain extent, about their ability.
She was particularly interested in seeing what Max had chosen to draw.
It was so hard to know what to make of him.
If it hadn’t been for what her mother had repeatedly told her about him and Peter, she would have taken him at face value. He came across as a man without guile, charming, easy-going, ready to be pleased – a man whose business success hadn’t gone to his head in any way. Under different circumstances, he was a man she could easily have fallen in love with.
But her mother’s words were always there, burning away in the back of her mind, stopping her from being taken in by his attractive exterior, forcing her to keep an emotional distance.
Unsurprisingly, s he wasn’t the only person who found Max to be excellent company. Several of the group had initially been less than keen on him joining them for dinner – Nick for example, and even Clare, although she’d been less vocal about it. But George had seemed delighted at the prospect of Max’s company, and Howard and Paula even more so. In fact, she’d been amazed at how enthusiastic the Andersons had been about Max joining them, given that they always seemed so complete in themselves and had never appeared particularly eager to join the others.
However, any
‘ Sounds good to me.’ He looked across in Stephen’s direction and smiled. ‘I’m very keen to see how Stephen gets on. You’ve certainly got your work cut out with him.’ He glanced sideways at her. ‘And with me, too, if I do decide to come to a few classes. I must confess I’m quite tempted.’
She opened her mouth to urge him to yield to temptation, but Maria appeared at the patio doors.
‘ La cena è pronta ,’ she announced.
‘ Dinner is ready,’ Jenny translated. She smiled round at the group. ‘Shall we go and see what’s waiting for us?’
Chapter Six
Jenny sat back in her chair, cupping her mug of coffee. She glanced round at the empty table, and felt very pleased with herself – she was the only person who’d stayed behind on the terrace after lunch. Everyone else, including Max, had gone back to the part of the house or garden that they were painting.
She’d set them the task of practising how to mix watercolour with pastel and coloured pencil, something she’d demonstrated that morning. They’d had time to start practising before the end of the morning, and she was thrilled that they were all so keen to get going again.
And she was also very relieved that she’d persuaded Maria to serve a lunch that was more in keeping with the eating habits of the British than the Italians. When Maria had come to her that morning and suggested an Italian-style lunch of antipasti followed by two pasta dishes, one after the other, and ending with tiramisù , she’d had a horrible vision of the whole class finishing their lunch and taking to their beds for a never-ending afternoon siesta.
Using all of her tact, she’d got Maria to scale down the lunch to a comparatively modest prosciutto with melon, followed by a dish of farfalle pasta lightly tossed in a basil pesto, accompanied by a classic Orvieto white wine, and finally a large yellow peach, some pecarino cheese and coffee. It had proved to be ideal – delicious, but not so heavy that it dulled their enthusiasm for the afternoon’s activity.
She glanced at her watch. They would have started on their work by now. She’d let them have a little longer, and then go and see how they were getting on. She’d leave Paula and Howard’s work till last as she’d seen their drawings that morning, and she’d give George’s work a miss for the same reason.
Finding out what each of the group had chosen to paint was going to be one of the most interesting parts of the week. Their choice of location spoke volumes about their character and interests, and, to a certain extent, about their ability.
She was particularly interested in seeing what Max had chosen to draw.
It was so hard to know what to make of him.
If it hadn’t been for what her mother had repeatedly told her about him and Peter, she would have taken him at face value. He came across as a man without guile, charming, easy-going, ready to be pleased – a man whose business success hadn’t gone to his head in any way. Under different circumstances, he was a man she could easily have fallen in love with.
But her mother’s words were always there, burning away in the back of her mind, stopping her from being taken in by his attractive exterior, forcing her to keep an emotional distance.
Unsurprisingly, s he wasn’t the only person who found Max to be excellent company. Several of the group had initially been less than keen on him joining them for dinner – Nick for example, and even Clare, although she’d been less vocal about it. But George had seemed delighted at the prospect of Max’s company, and Howard and Paula even more so. In fact, she’d been amazed at how enthusiastic the Andersons had been about Max joining them, given that they always seemed so complete in themselves and had never appeared particularly eager to join the others.
However, any
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