‘Woulld you like some company?’ The hostess offered, pace with her to the door.

‘Sure, thank you.’ She gave the taller woman a genuine smile as they stepped out of the room, into an empty hallway. ‘What are these?’ She asked, pointed at the other doors.

‘One of them is Manfredi’s office. The remaining are mostly small meeting rooms, with couches, rugs, hearths… . They give people more privacy, you know. It’s better than hanging around in the living room.’

‘Ah, I see.’ Bette nodded, wondered what sort of "privacy" the Italian meant. She mentally shook herself, made a vow to start exercising being more respectful. That Antropology elective she took at college had to be useful in some part of her life.

‘Breakfast for two, please, Belinda.’ The Italian said as they saw the maid cleaning the couches. ‘Ah, and good morning.’

‘Good morning, Miss.’ She cursied. ‘Miss Porter.’ She nodded and went into the general direction of the kitchen.

The abscence of Mr. Ferrer was palpable, comfortably so, when they sat on the chairs around the table. It made them breathe more easily as a true banquet was served, complete with fruits, several types of bread, steaming mugs of coffee, butter, cheese, ham, honey, jamóns, cakes, scrambled eggs, sausage…

‘Ok, is this brunch or breakfast?’ Porter queried as she grabbed an enormous, cheery red appled.

‘I told them to serve in variety. I don’t know what each of you have for breakfast and it’s better to sin by quantity than by the lack of something.’ The hostess grinned, bit at a giant pear. ‘I hope everything’s up to your standards.’

‘Believe me, you don’t have to worry about that.’ She closed her eyes, sighed in delight. ‘God, this is the best apple I’ve ever eaten. I’ve never tasted something so sweet before.’ Bette felt a wave of gratitude for the generosity of her friend. ‘Thank you for everything.’

‘You’re welcome. This is one of my ways of showing how happy I am that you’re here.’

The statement made Ms. Porter feel light-headed and cozylly warm. ‘Listen, Marina. In the past I’ve often judged you badly because of your actions. Now I see that I simply can’t do this, since I don’t understand or fully know your upbringing and other cultural influences. I’m so very sorry. Can you forgive me?’