Siteri is coming to California

The amazing Miss Siteri. Photo by David Lansing.

Every morning when I sit down at one of the tables on the deck of the Banyan, Siteri arrives within moments and slips a latte in front of me. Without my asking. Without my having even thought about asking.

And in the evening when I come down to the bar she puts a glass of Australian pinot gris in front of me before I’ve even settled in to my bar chair. Again, no words are exchanged. It’s just there.

A couple of days ago, Marguarite and I were having lunch together and I mentioned to her that the previous evening I’d spilled something on my white shirt and hadn’t realized it until the next morning. “Well, that shirt’s ruined,” I lamented as Siteri brought our meals.

By the time I got back to my room, the shirt in question had been laundered, the stain removed, and was sitting all nicely folded atop my bed.

“Siteri,” I said that evening as she placed a glass of pinot gris in front of me, “did you have my shirt laundered?”

“Of course, Mr. David.”

I find this amazing. Particularly since Siteri has nothing to do with housekeeping. She’s the food and beverage manager.

Yesterday I told Christopher, Royal Davui’s marketing director, that I was taking Siteri home with me when I left.

“Really,” he said without looking up from texting on his smart phone.

“I’ve decided she’s going to be my personal assistant.”

“Is that right,” he mumbled. He finished his e-mail and put his phone on the bar. “Have you told her this yet?”

“Not exactly.”

“Ah.”

Christopher smiled at me. A few minutes later, Siteri brought over the half-coconut shells filled with kokoda that both Christopher and I were having for lunch.

“Siteri,” Christopher said poking a fork in to the raw fish marinated in coconut milk and lime juice. “David here says he’s taking you home with him so that you can be his personal assistant. What do you think of that?”

Siteri giggled. “That sounds very nice. But where does he live?”

“California,” said Christopher.

“Have you heard of California?” I asked her. She shook her head. “Well, no matter. You’ll like it.”

“I’m sure,” said Siteri.

“So do you think you’d like to go?” I asked her.

“Yes,” she said. “And so will Ben.”

“Who is Ben?” I asked her.

“My husband.”

“You’re married?”

“Yes, Mr. David.”

“Ah.”

Well, I’m not sure what to do with Ben in California but I’ll think of something. Siteri may not know where California is but she wants to go anyway. I can’t imagine why Ben would object, can you?