Hazel hadn’t slept a wink. This lack of sleep was now showing on her face. She stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. The mirror had fallen off of one of its nails and sat crookedly over the cracked ceramic sink. She sighed. Yet another item to add to that to-do list. The list was getting scary long, and yet here she was, hopping off on some picnic somewhere with some man. She had finally accepted that she was in trouble. Yes, until now they had been sparring, both trying to ignore the thread of attraction that bound them together, but yesterday she had seen a different side of Dean. He was nothing like the famous movie star persona she had built up in her head. He was kind, not arrogant. He'd spent the day with her doing backbreaking work when there was no reason for him to even be in the house. And he wasn’t the kind of movie star who didn’t lift a finger either, he worked his butt off and didn’t stop until they'd finished the job. And he was funny. Telling her stories of life on the set and the strange personalities that surrounded him in his distant life in Los Angeles. They hadn’t gotten too deep into their personal lives, but she sensed there was a lot to discover under that handsome exterior. He was not the superficial cartoon of a person she’d assumed most famous people must be. She realized that she was falling for him, which made it particularly irritating that she hadn’t slept last night and now had these huge bags under her eyes.

Some of her lack of sleep had been caused by the adrenaline still pounding through her after that kiss, some had been caused by worry. She'd got her data working so had sent two or three emails to Liz asking how Samuel was doing on the project, and every reply had been full of praise. Although Liz was her best friend and she should have faith in her support, Hazel was still worried and was very much afraid that she'd be left on the sidelines; especially since she wasn’t there. If only she could talk to Liz, hear her voice, figure out what was going on. But her stupid phone, or the stupid Italian service, wouldn’t make voice calls. She needed coffee.

* * *

The kitchen table was becoming increasingly unsuited to its intended use. It was strewn with lists and plans and budgets. Booklets of paint colors were piled in the middle and wood samples were scattered all over the table and the counters. Noticeably missing, though, were any contracts. There were no contracts because she couldn’t find a single person to hire who could, or would, do the work.

She tried Liz’s number again and got nothing. Not even a dial tone this time. She tossed her useless phone into the pile of paperwork. “Shoot! Stupid phone.”

“What’s the matter with the phone?” Stefano seated himself opposite her and she noticed her weakening irritation with him. Last night, between her post kiss euphoria, the food, and the camaraderie, Stefano had grown on her. He was a sweet boy, with an endearingly earnest innocence and a snarky sense of humor like Indigo's. He made her mother crack up every five minutes which made Hazel laugh. But she still hadn’t forgiven him for the ceiling leak and she was mad that he made her want to.

“It doesn’t work! I’ve been trying to call the U.S. They can’t call me. I can’t call them. Who knows? I’ve given up.”

Stefano reached across the messy piles and picked up her phone. “Probably just settings.” He spent a few minutes pressing buttons and alternately frowning and smiling. Before he handed it back to her. “That will work,” he said, “it was just your settings.”

Hazel looked at him and laughed. “I know it’s not that easy. I’ve been down to the phone shop like five times and they do what you just did, hand it back and nothing happens.”

“Try it,” Stefano said. “It works now.”

Frowning at Stefano over the top of her phone, she touched ‘Phonebook’ and selected ‘Liz’. She kept her other hand under the table and crossed her fingers hard. It was ringing!!

“Hello?”

“Liz!  Oh my god, Liz, I’m so glad it’s you! Where are you? Can you chat?”

“Where am I, Hazel? I’m in bed! It’s…,” Hazel heard shuffling, “two a.m.! Why are you calling me at 2:00 a.m.?”

“Sorry Liz, sorry!! Time difference error. Sorry! I’ll call you later today.”

She hit the end button and grinned triumphantly at Stefano. He started to laugh, “Maybe you are too dangerous with long distance. Maybe better I didn’t fix it.”

“No! Awesome that you fixed it, Stefano. Thank you!” She stood up. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“Grazie,” Stefano said. He was sorting the papers on the table in front of him, making nice, neat piles. He was a boy after her own heart. She was a compulsive straightener. It was Indigo who kept rendering this table a complete disaster.

Hazel handed him a steaming mug. He looked at it in confusion. She laughed, “Americano. We’ll turn you yet.” They sipped for a few minutes in silence. “Why are you here, Stefano?”

“Scusi?” He flushed a deep red and Hazel felt a flush of guilt at the way the question had come out.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I wondered if you could tell me how you ended up here, with nowhere to stay? What’s happened?”

Stefano put his mug onto the table and messed with the papers again. He looked like a little boy. “My mother passed away.” He picked up his mug again and then put it back down without drinking. “She wasn’t a good mother. She liked her vino too much. And she liked men too. But she loved me and wanted me to do well. I got into University. I study computers and technology. She got sick. She gave me a paper with this address and told me to look for my father. She'd never told me about him before. I never asked. She said he lived here. And if he was dead, then the house belonged to me. But your mother, she says he is not dead, and she showed me the papers that the house is hers. But Indigo says I can stay, which is nice of her because my mother didn’t own her house and I have no money for rent or university anymore.”

Hazel felt a wave of shame pass over her. She had been so caught up in her own problems she hadn’t spared a thought for why a university student like Stefano would wander around claiming houses. But if Stefano’s father was her mother’s old boyfriend, and he was still alive, why did his mother leave the house to Indigo? And if this boy truly was the man's son, then shouldn't he have the house, anyway? She felt convinced, once again, that she wasn't getting the whole truth from Indigo. She wondered if she would ever get any sense out of her mother. She'd let all the vagueness wash over her before because she knew how her Mother worked and sometimes it just wasn't worth the effort to keep nagging her. But now they were impacting another person's life. She would need to speak to her about it again.

“Well you can stay here with us as long as we're here.” She stood and picked up Stefano’s cold coffee to pour it down the sink. He was clearly an espresso drinker. “But you know we are planning to sell it in a few months, so we’ll need to figure something out. I'll talk to Indigo about it. I’m happy to help however I can, Stefano, so make sure you talk to either of us if you need something.”

“I can work!” he blurted out. “I know little about houses, only computers, but I can learn fast. I can help with the renovation. I want to. I can pay you back for letting me live here.”

Hazel smiled at him, “That’s sweet of you Stefano. But I have no one to teach you anything. Indigo and I are as lost as you are. But I’m working on it.”

"Hey!" Indigo’s loud presence made them both jump. “You’re not working today! What are you still doing in your robe?  Get up those stairs and get some sexy clothes on, Mama. You have to woo a movie star today.”

Hazel rolled her eyes at her mother but she felt a shiver of excitement run through her. Dean. He’d be here in twenty-four minutes. She’d better hurry.