A Bouquet of Love

by Janice Thompson

  “The whole family wants to stay here.” She crossed her arms. “All of us!”

  Babbas looked at me. “Is this so?”

  I released a slow breath and nodded. “I can’t speak for Mama, but the rest of us are torn. It’s a . . . well, a hard decision.”

  “One I’ve made for the benefit of the whole family.” Babbas wiped his brow, then reached down to pick up Gina. “I want my little monkey to be happy, but the monkey’s mommy must be happy too. You see?”

  “But if we leave, nothing will be the same!” Gina’s little voice quivered, and soon gut-wrenching sobs followed. Babbas held her close.

  My other siblings, likely frightened by the crying, came tearing into the kitchen one after another. Mama followed on their heels. Athena came in behind her, the crinkles deepening around her eyes as she watched Gina weep and wail.

  “What’s happened?” Mama wrung her hands together. “Are you injured, Gina?”

  “She’s fine.” Babbas put Gina down and smoothed her mussed hair. “We were just having a father-daughter talk. But she knows that all will be well, right, little monkey?”

  Gina sniffled and shrugged. “I guess.” The sobs started again. “But I really, really, really, really don’t want to move, Babbas.” She flung her arms around him. “Why do we have to go? I’ll never get to build my sand castle. Never, never, never.”

  “There now . . .” He knelt once more and his arms encircled her.

  I felt tears spring to my eyes. Apparently my brothers and sisters were having a tough time with this too. And Mama? She brushed the tears from her eyes and joined Babbas and Gina, kneeling down to join their little circle.

  Athena looked my way as if to ask, “What have I missed?” and I just shook my head. There would be plenty of time to fill her in later.

  When Gina’s cries ended, Mama dabbed her tears away. “We love you, baby girl.”

  “I know.” She looked at our father, whose face was awash with tears. “I was scared to tell you, Babbas. I thought you would yell at me.”

  “I’m working hard on that, pumpkin. My yelling days are over.” He looked at Mama as if to reassure her.

  Gina sniffled. “O-okay.”

  Filip lifted his palms, an odd expression on his face. “Am I the only one who’s going to miss the yelling?”

  Our father’s brows met in the middle as he took in this information. “You . . . what?”

  Darian laughed. “I think he’s used to a certain decibel level. Maybe you need to keep being . . . well, nice . . . but louder.”

  For a minute I thought this might upset him, but Babbas started chuckling. “A louder version of nice?”

  “Yeah, you could yell nice things at us,” Filip said. “Like, ‘Hey, you’re a great kid! I really love you!’ Stuff like that.”

  Babbas tousled my brother’s hair.

  “Or what about, ‘Hey, you’re great at washing dishes!’” Darian added. “‘Why don’t you get in there and show me how good you are?’”

  Eva groaned, but I couldn’t help but laugh. As much as things changed, they stayed the same.

  “When we get back home to Santa Cruz, our lives will be different.” Babbas now addressed all of us. “I promise. We will have more time together as a family. We will go on vacations.”

  “Do you mean that, Niko?” Mama crossed her arms. “Or will you go back on this promise like before?”

  He looked wounded by her words. “I-I will need to make sure the business is stable, but I promise to go on a vacation.” His expression clouded with anger, but I had a feeling he would carry through for Mama’s sake.

  “Very well. I will put together a plan.” Mama’s lips turned up in a smile.

  “A . . . plan?” Babbas released a slow breath.

  “Yes, Niko. That’s what people do when they go on a vacation. They make a plan.” She waved her hands in the air. “But don’t worry about any of that. Just leave it all to me. I know someone.”

  “You know someone?” Babbas looked concerned.

  “In the travel business. One of our customers. I will work out the details.”

  Now he really looked worried. “But travel agents cost money, no?”

  “Don’t worry about that part, Niko.” She shot him a frustrated look.

  The bell on the front door jangled, and Babbas and the boys went out into the shop to tend to the incoming customers. I wrestled with my emotions as I tagged along behind them, my thoughts in a whirl. When we got back to Santa Cruz, life might be different from before, or it might be the same. With Babbas, who could ever tell?

  Stephen arrived at lunchtime, and he and Athena took their usual spots in the front booth to hash out ideas for the sitcom. Their conversation of the day focused on Brock, who was set to arrive on the island next Saturday, along with other cast members from Stars Collide. My stomach churned as I thought about it.

  Then again, my stomach churned for a variety of reasons. I missed Alex. Missed him terribly. And if I missed him this badly now, what would I feel like later, after moving a couple thousand miles away?

  I snuck into the kitchen around noontime to call him. He picked up on the second ring. “Cassia!”

  “Alex, I just needed to hear your voice.” I shifted the phone to my other ear and reached for a rag to wipe the tzatziki sauce off my hands.

  “Same here.” He sighed so loudly that I felt it down to my core. “That’s why I called earlier.”

  “You called me? I must’ve missed it.”

  “Yeah.” The tone of his voice changed. “You, um, didn’t listen to the message then?”

  “Message?” Ugh. I’d missed that somehow too.

  “Yeah, I left you a pretty detailed one. That’s why I thought you were calling, actually. You, um, might want to listen to it.”

  At this point Babbas called my name, asking for a tray of baklava to be brought to the front, and I knew my phone call must come to an end. “I hate to do this, Alex, but—”

  “Right. You have to go. I hear your dad.”

  “Yeah. Sorry.”

  “No problem. Just listen to the message, okay?”

  “Will do.”

  After ending the call, I slipped the phone into my pocket and carried the tray of baklava to the front of the store. The next hour was spent taking care of the crowd. Man, did we have customers or what? I didn’t even have time to grab a bite to eat.

  Finally, around three o’clock, things slowed down and I remembered Alex’s comment about leaving a message. I walked outside with a rag in my hand to clean the outside tables, then reached for my phone and pushed the button to retrieve the message from Alex.

  His soothing voice calmed my nerves at once, and the Texas twang seemed richer than before as the message began. Not that the method of delivery mattered. No, all that mattered was the impassioned speech—his words of affection for me, his pleas for me to stay in Galveston so that we could grow our relationship into something that would last a lifetime.

  My heart thump-thumped as I listened. Just to be sure I’d heard it right, I played the message again. Yep. Same passion. Same delicious phrases.

  Oh. My. Goodness.

  Through the glass, Babbas gestured for me to come inside. He obviously needed me for something.

  But I couldn’t go in just yet. Not now. Not when Alex’s emotionally charged “I love you, Cassia” tickled my ear and set my heart ablaze with emotion.

  I know it was silly of me, but I couldn’t help it. I whispered the words “I love you too” to my now-silent phone, then pulled it to my chest and burst into tears, my heart torn into pieces.

  Seconds later I felt someone standing behind me. I turned to discover Mama and Athena had joined me.

  “Cassia?” Mama’s eyes filled with concern. “Are you all right?”

  “Y-yes. N-no!”

  “What’s happened?” Athena asked.

  “I-I just had a message from Alex. He—” I dissolved into tears but then managed to spit out,
“He doesn’t want me to leave. And I don’t want to go either.” I glanced at Mama, filled with shame. “I mean, I want to be with the family, but the idea of leaving him is . . . is . . .”

  “Is killing you.” Mama nodded and put her hand on my arm. “I know that feeling well, sweet girl.” She gestured to a nearby table. “Can we sit a minute and talk?”

  “Of course.”

  I tried to get my emotions under control, then the three of us settled into chairs and waited for a group of tourists to pass by before speaking. From across the street, the smell of pizza filled the air as the door to Parma John’s opened and several customers walked out. Bella stepped out onto the sidewalk and glanced our way. She gave me a curious look as I dabbed at my eyes with a napkin.

  “I’m coming over there,” she called out. “I don’t care what anyone says.” She bravely marched into the street and straight toward us. Well, after dodging the silver SUV with the irate driver.

  I could only imagine what Babbas must be thinking. Surely he was watching all of this through the window. But he didn’t come outside, thank goodness.

  Bella settled into the only remaining empty chair at our table and gazed at me with growing intensity. “What have I missed?”

  “Cassia doesn’t want to go back to California,” Mama said.

  “Well, that’s good.” Bella slapped the table with her hands. “Because I don’t want you to go.”

  “And I don’t want you to either.” These words came from Mama, who stood and paced the sidewalk. “In fact, I don’t want any of us to go.”

  “W-what?” I shook my head. “Babbas is doing all of this because he thinks you want to go back.”

  “Ugh! This is all my fault.” Athena leaned her head on the table. “I should never have told him that we wanted his input on the show. That’s what gave him the idea in the first place. But he certainly doesn’t need to be in California for that to happen.”

  “No, Cassia is right. I’m sure this decision of his isn’t so much about the show as it is about me.” Mama stopped and fussed with a stack of napkins on the table. “He’s making a noble gesture because he thinks it’s right for me. But now I’ve painted myself into a corner. I don’t want to go, but neither do I want to stay if he’s still intent on making a fool of himself to grow this business. I can’t bear the idea of arguing with the neighbors all the time. I’ve lived too long like that.”

  “He seems to be getting nicer,” I said. “Maybe it will stick.”

  Mama laughed. “I love you for thinking that, Cassia. Your father is a good man, and I do believe the Lord can bring about changes, but Babbas is also a good marketer. He wants to make Super-Gyros the best it can be. Every man wants that for his family—a stable life, I mean.”

  “So you don’t want to go but you don’t want to stay?” I shook my head. “I’m confused.”

  “I want to give the man a wake-up call,” she said. “This situation between our two families has to be resolved once and for all.”

  “I agree,” Bella said. “But Uncle Laz is a stubborn old coot. He still wants his business to be number one on the island. He handed over the reins to my oldest brother years ago but then took them back. That’s how insecure he is.”

  “Niko is the same way.” Mama sighed. “But I don’t care about any of that. I’m done with feuding.” She turned to Athena. “I’m sorry if that ruins your sitcom idea, Athena. It’s all fun and games for TV, but in the real world we just can’t live like this. We are called to love our neighbors, to live together in harmony.”

  “Right, right.” Athena looked a bit dejected. “Should we . . . I mean, should I call my producer and tell him we’re not moving forward with the idea?”

  Mama shook her head. “No, I’m not saying that either. It would destroy Niko’s ego to have that show stolen away from him. He thinks he’s going to be famous.”

  “Uncle Laz would be devastated too,” Bella said. “He loved the idea. And I think the people at the Food Network are pleased too. This will draw even more people to The Italian Kitchen.”

  “So what’s the answer, Mama?” I asked. I could tell from the look on her face that she had some sort of a plan brewing.

  “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought,” she said. “I believe Niko and Laz need to meet in the middle.”

  “Meet in the middle?” Bella, Athena, and I spoke the words in unison.

  “Yep. Meet in the middle.” Mama’s eyes gleamed as she looked at the cobblestone street. “And I’ve come up with just the right way to make that happen.”

  “Oh?” This certainly captured my interest.

  “Yes.” She continued to stare at the middle of the street, a devilish gleam in her eyes. “But I can’t do it alone.” She homed in on the three of us, her voice lowering to a hoarse whisper. “To bring these two men together . . . well, it’s going to take a village.”

  28

  Meet Me in St. Louis

  You might be Greek if you are summoned to meals by the sound of a shofar.

  A week after my world-rocking conversation with Mama, we braced ourselves for the implementation of her big plan.

  Okay, so it wasn’t just Mama’s plan. By the time it all came together, it pretty much involved every woman in the Pappas family and the Rossi family. And heavens, there were a lot of women in the Rossi family! They all chimed in with their thoughts, and before long our “wow, I hope this works!” plan was set.

  Midmorning Saturday, we all gathered at the shop. Athena, Stephen, Alex, his sisters, the Splendora ladies . . . everyone. Well, everyone on the Pappas side. Keeping things a secret from Babbas proved slightly problematic with Alex’s aunt Twila in the mix, but we managed to contain her before the cat slipped out of the bag.

  Mama kicked off the action at 11:45 with a proclamation: “Niko, I want you to put the Closed sign on the door.”

  “The Closed sign?” He looked perplexed. “But we’re not officially closing for another week and a half.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I want you to close up shop today. Right now.” She pointed to a couple of tables where guests sat eating. “As soon as these last customers leave. You must trust me. No arguments.”

  “But why? Saturday is our busiest day!” He started to rant in Greek but then stopped himself, a sheepish look on his face. “I will do it, Helena. For you. Anything.”

  Wow. He really had changed.

  At noon, just as Mama rushed the last customer out the door, she hung the Closed sign and gestured for the rest of us—minus Babbas, who still worked in the kitchen—to join her on the sidewalk. We met up with Officer O’Reilly, who gave Mama a thumbs-up. Perfect. Good to go.

  I glanced to the middle of the street to make sure everything was in place, then giggled as I reached for Alex’s hand. “You ready for this?” I whispered.

  He gave me a sound kiss and then responded with a boisterous, “Yep! Can’t wait! It’s gonna be quite a day.”

  We exchanged a subtle look of amusement, followed by a high five.

  Mama called out for Babbas to join us, and he stepped out onto the sidewalk just as the entire Rossi family flooded out of Parma John’s across the street.

  For a moment no one moved—not the Greeks, not the Italians. A lot of staring took place, but no forward motion. Kind of felt like a scene from one of those old Westerns, where the good guy and the bad guy face each other down at the O.K. Corral. Except there weren’t any bad guys in our story. Well, not of the shoot-’em-up variety.

  “What in the world?” Babbas remained in his Greek statuesque pose, gazing at Parma John’s and then at the obvious setup in the center of the street. “What is this?”

  “This, my dear, is where we’re having lunch.” Mama gestured to the long line of picnic tables running down the center of the Strand.

  “Lunch? In the middle of the street?”

  “Yes, but before we eat, I have something I need to say.” She put her hands on her hips and faced him dead-on. “You
can go back to California if you like, Niko Pappas, but you will go without me.”

  “Without you?” He stared at her and then shook his head. “But I’m going because of you.”

  “No. I will not be the reason you flip this family upside down. We love it here in Galveston.”

  Babbas began to rant in Greek about women and their inability to make up their minds, at which point Yia Yia took hold of his arm and pinched it.

  “Already you slip back to your old ways, boy? I raised you better than this!” She wiggled a bony finger in his face. “If you know what’s good for you, you will speak to others with kindness, especially the wife God has blessed you with.”

  “I am kind!” Babbas grunted and muttered in Greek once again. “Did Gina not say just the other day that I’m too nice?”

  Mama rolled her eyes. “Impossible.” She placed her hand on my father’s arm. “Now, Niko, we don’t want you to lose your personality—heaven forbid—but there’s no such thing as being too kind. Remember what the Bible says about loving your neighbor.”

  “Loving my neighbor?” He grunted again as he looked across the street at the Rossis, who stood on their sidewalk arguing with Laz. He looked about as happy as Babbas did.

  “We will meet in the middle,” Mama said.

  Babbas looked confused. “Meet in the middle?”

  “Yes. You will meet me halfway. I will stay, and you will lay down your battle with the Rossis . . . forever.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. And just to reiterate, I’m not going anywhere. You can leave if you want, but I’m staying put, even if you decide not to share a meal with our new friends.”

  “Helena, surely you don’t think that we should—”

  “We’re having a picnic with the neighbors.” She pointed to the beautifully decorated tables, then took a step into the street. “Join us if you like. Or don’t. It’s your choice.”

  He looked at the line of picnic tables running down the middle of the Strand. “Are you crazy? Cars have to get through here. And the trolley.”

  Officer O’Reilly approached and handed Babbas an official-looking piece of paper. “Your wife applied for a permit, Niko. I’ve coned off the area, as you can see. Plenty of room on either side for cars to get by. And before you start fretting over the trolley, let me put your mind at ease. It’s shut down for servicing for the next two hours. Won’t reopen until two o’clock, so this little get-together will have to end before then.”