Or was she imagining it?

The trio talked animatedly for the entire time Colette was there (though Mama Elene remained prompt and indulgent in her service of her customers), and throughout three courses they still seemed to have plenty to talk about.

As she finished her grilled shrimp and bresaola, Colette sadly realized she was running out of time to listen as she heard Jacopo’s taxi horn from outside on the street, signaling it was time to leave.

She got to her feet and walked toward the trio at the counter. She hated having to interrupt them, but she needed to pay her bill and get going.

“Um, scusi,” she began politely.

“You’re ready to leave so soon? Jacopo is there already?” Mama Elene questioned as she turned to look at her. She rushed to the door. “Ah, yes, he is. I get you your bill.”

Colette’s finger automatically found its way to a strand of loose hair as she curled it self-consciously.

“So sorry to disturb you,” she apologized to the others at the counter as she took some money out to settle her bill. Jacopo was inside before it was paid, and from his exuberant greeting, it seemed the taxi driver was also familiar with the others present.

“You enjoyed your meal?” he asked Colette, hurrying over to her.

“It was wonderful,” she replied truthfully.

“What I tell you? Jacopo knows the best restaurant. You come here again, sì?”

Everyone’s eyes seemed to turn in her direction and Colette was sure her face was scarlet by now. “Of course.”

“Next time you bring a friend,” Mama Elene encouraged, smiling and presenting her with a shot of limoncello.

“Oh, I don’t actually know anyone here,” she said, staring at the glass, unsure if it would be rude not to drink it. She had no idea how potent these things were and she wasn’t really a drinker.

The older woman frowned. “What? You are here by yourself? No family? No boyfriend, even?”

“No,” Colette muttered, slightly embarrassed.

“How long is your stay here in Positano?”

“Just a few weeks. I’m not even sure if the place I’m staying is around here actually,” she said truthfully, as she had very little information on the villa other than the street address. But she sorely hoped so. The town was picture-postcard perfect and from what she’d seen already, she wanted to explore every inch of it.

“Yes, it is not far,” Jacopo told her, “just back up that way—closer to Fornillo.”

“And you’re here all alone?” Luca said disbelievingly in English.

Colette’s tongue twisted in her mouth. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t answer, so she just nodded and picked up the limoncello shot, downing it in one.

“Well, now you know someone.” Mama Elene reached in for another hug. “You come here as much as you like. I let you taste everything on the menu.”