“Fifty years ago I would have invited him back to my room. He has wonderful eyes and a cheeky smile.” Kathleen looked at Martha thoughtfully. “Maybe you—”

“No. Thank you. I’m not interested.” Adventure, yes. Road trip, yes. Cocktails, definitely. Men? No way. What did it say about her life that an eighty-year-old was trying to fix her up with someone?

Kathleen leaned in. “You’re gay?”

“No, not gay. A bit off relationships right now.” She thought about Steven and thinking about Steven made her wish she’d ordered another cocktail instead of water. “I should take a photo of you to send to Liza. I promised her I would. Should you put the drink down? Will she be concerned?”

“She would probably be more concerned if I wasn’t drinking.” Kathleen posed against the skyline as Martha took photos on her phone.

As she put her phone away she noticed that she had two missed calls from Steven. Some of the magic oozed out of the moment. Even this far from home, he could still ruin her evening.

She was tempted to send a photo of herself sipping cocktails together with a message, Can’t talk now, I’m busy.

Kathleen was watching her. “Everything all right?”

“Fine.” She zipped up her bag and tried to forget about it. “Tell me more about you, Kathleen. Did you always travel a lot?”

“Yes. And this place is as exciting as I remembered. Doesn’t it raise your pulse looking at it?”

“Your pulse is raised?” Martha sat up straighter. “Any pains in your chest or anything?” She should have done a first aid course before coming on this trip.

Kathleen seemed untroubled. “At my age there are always aches and pains. It’s best not to dwell on them.”

Martha had a few pains of her own, mostly around her heart. Her feelings and her confidence were bruised and battered. She was all for trying not to dwell on it.

“Did you come here as a tourist?” She realized that the only thing she knew about her employer was that she lived in a nice house in the middle of nowhere, seemed to have enough money to pay for expensive hotels and was determined to live out the rest of her years in a manner unbecoming for her age.

“I was working.” Kathleen put her fork down. “I presented a travel show. Decades before you were born, of course. I traveled the world. I was a household name for a while.”

“What was the show called?”

“The Summer Seekers. You’re far too young to remember it, but your mother might.”

Martha had no intention of communicating with her mother. She was enjoying the break, and she had no doubt that the feeling was mutual. “You were a journalist?”