by Jane Kindred
“It seems like you’re very comfortable with it.” He took a bite of his sandwich.
I shrugged. “It’s just my face. I’ve never had another.”
Ares chewed for a moment and swallowed. “Of course. Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you shouldn’t be comfortable, just that you emanate a sort of comfort within your own skin that not many people have, even those who are presumed to be flawless.” He grinned. “My sisters, for instance.”
“I suppose beauty can be a curse. One that you and Aristos aren’t immune to, I’d guess. Or is it easier not being subject to the male gaze?” I raised my eyebrow. “Sorry, was that rude?”
Ares laughed. “Touché. Although some of us are objectified in a similar way. Take Aristos, for example.” He winked, as if we were coconspirators in our own private joke. “I assume you overheard me talking about his partner, Thanos.”
“I did. Didn’t really think it was any of my business, though.”
“Aristos has had a hard time dealing with his role in the family. I just wanted to make that clear, because our previous discussion was cut short. He loved his sister, and she was very protective of him, despite what you might think.”
“I don’t believe it’s really my place to think anything about it.”
“But you obviously do. At any rate, he’s a good kid.” Kid. He really was, I realized. If he’d been only fifteen when he and Aravella—well, he was now just twenty-two or twenty-three. It was a sobering thought. “I just didn’t want you to come away with any other impression of him. I’m rather protective of him too.”
“Okay.” I went back to eating my sandwich, hoping he’d take the hint and go elsewhere.
“Lukas told you to stay away from me, didn’t he?”
I continued eating. “Of course.”
“When it’s really Lukas you should be staying away from.”
“I don’t really need you to tell me that.”
“That’s not what your eyes say.”
I swallowed a large bite that had stuck in my throat. “Sorry?”
“When you look at him. When he looks at you.”
“He’s just been widowed. And he’s my uncle. I’m not looking at him any way.”
Ares gave me an irritating, knowing smile while he ate. “I’m just suggesting,” he said between bites, “that you tread carefully, before you end up doing something you’ll regret.” He gave me a penetrating look while he finished chewing. “Before you hurt Konstantin.”
I set my sandwich down, bristling at the implication. “I am not going to do anything that would hurt Konstantin. He’s just lost the most important person in the world to him, and even if he hadn’t, I would never betray his trust. Yes, I still have feelings for Lukas. Unfortunately. But acting on them is out of the question.”
“The longer you stay, the harder your resolve is going to become.”
“I don’t have any choice in the matter. The sheriff’s department has asked me not to go anywhere until they finish their investigation.”
“Well, you might consider looking at someone else in the meantime. Someone who isn’t related to you.”
I nearly laughed out loud. “Are you suggesting yourself?”
“Ouch.” Ares smiled ruefully. “You could do worse.”
“Wow.” I packed my lunch back into the box and stood. “You’re a piece of work. Hitting on the help at your sister’s funeral.”
Ares’s laugh was full-throated and good-natured. “What’s that American saying? ‘You can’t blame a guy for trying.’” He set his food aside and rose, surprising me by taking my hand and kissing it. “It’s been a pleasure lunching with you, Emilie Strand.”
“It’s Lang,” I said, pulling my hand away. “Or Petty, anyway. That’s the name on my birth certificate.”
“But you’re Sebastian Strand’s daughter.”
“And my mother wasn’t married to him, so I am not a Strand.”
Ares’s eyes were on me as I walked away. “Oh, you’re most definitely a Strand,” he said as I went through the door.
* * * * *
I ate the rest of my lunch in my room and took respite from the family drama in a brief nap before it was time to deal with Aravella’s wake. Not that I begrudged her the honoring of her memory or the mourning of her loss. It was the company I had to endure. Plus, I had no idea what to expect from a wake for one of the family, given how peculiar the “funeral” had been.
It turned out to be little different from what I imagined went on at a wake: food and drink. And more drink.
Karolina had prepared a traditional Greek spread in honor of the Apostolous, with spanakopita, baked cod in garlic sauce and fresh loaves of rosemary bread with olive oil, which made the room smell wonderful. The dishes, of course, had Karolina’s unique flair, the spanakopita made with ricotta cheese in addition to the feta, giving it a sweet bite, and the rosemary bread infused with culinary lavender. Whatever else Karolina might be up to, her cooking was undeniably the best I’d ever eaten.
Though several varieties of Strand wines were available, including the pinot gris I’d had on my first night here, the wake began with a glass of brandy for each of us, apparently a tradition. Signe raised her glass to the assembly with a toast: “Zoi se mas.”
Ares, who persisted in seeking me out, stood beside me. “It means ‘may life be granted to us’.” He tipped his glass to me and drank.
Unlike the funeral, other guests had been invited besides the immediate families, and I was pleased to see Lumi and Freyr among the faces of the locals who’d come to pay their respects. Despite what I’d learned about their unusual practices, I couldn’t help but feel at ease around them. They had a sort of quiet joy about them that made me envious.
I escaped from Ares and went to greet them. Both embraced me warmly. “So good to see you, Millie.” Lumi pressed my hand as she released me from the hug. “I found another picture for you.” She reached into the deep pocket of her peasant skirt and presented me with a photo of Beverly standing at the counter of the café, turning back toward the camera. From this profile view, a round belly was clearly visible. Beverly was pregnant. With me.
“That was just a couple of weeks before you were born,” said Lumi.
I smoothed my thumb lightly over the image. “You know, I went to the Grove today. The funeral was held there.”
Lumi raised her eyebrows with interest. “Did you? Did it speak to you?”
“It’s funny you should say that. It’s the same phrase Signe used—if it spoke to me, we’d know whether I was a true Strand or not.”
Lumi glanced over to where Signe was holding court with a number of guests, accepting condolences as if Aravella had been her own daughter. “You’re a true Strand because you have Strand blood, regardless of any connection to the Grove. What matters is your tree.”
“My tree?”
Before she could answer, Lukas arrived at my side. “Luminous.” He took her hand while they shared some silent communication. “Thank you so much for coming. Aravella was so fond of you and Freyr, despite our differences.” I glanced at Lukas, wondering what differences they’d had.
Lumi’s smile was so genuine, it was hard to imagine that there were any. “I’m so sorry for your loss, dear heart. Her absence is deeply felt.”
Lukas nodded solemnly, and the silence that followed became awkward. He glanced at the photo I was holding as if to find an excuse to say something else. “What’s that?” I held it out to him, and he took it, studying it with a guarded expression before glancing at me to compare. “Your mother,” he said and looked back at the photo. “I remember her.”
The statement surprised me. “I thought you didn’t know her.”
He passed the photo back to me. “I didn’t. Not really. I just remember seeing her at the winery when I went there with Pappa.”
&n
bsp; “And the cottage,” I reminded him. Lukas turned to me with a puzzled look. “She stayed at the cottage while she was pregnant with me.”
You’d have thought I’d punched him from the way he jerked back. “She what?”
“It’s where I was born,” I said as if he were being daft. “Where she died in the fire.”
“The fire?” Lukas seemed genuinely perplexed. “Who told you that? There was never a fire in the cottage.”
I stared at him, baffled by his insistent tone. “Lukas, the master bedroom still has smoke damage.”
“I—” He paused, wrinkling his brow. “I guess it does. I guess I never really thought about how that happened.” Lukas shook his head. “But how would I not remember the fire? How could I not remember Beverly living there?”
“Maybe it was too traumatic,” Lumi suggested. “You were very young.”
“I was Konstantin’s age. I’d remember,” he insisted. But he obviously didn’t, and it clearly troubled him. Karolina entered with a tray of little phyllo-wrapped pies, and Lukas watched her with an odd expression. His eyes flitted to mine with a sudden intensity. “I came to ask you if you’d look in on Konstantin,” he said. “He wasn’t feeling up to the wake after all the walking and standing he did earlier, so I said he could eat in his room. Would you mind? I hate to have him spend so much time alone right now.”
“Not at all.” I turned to Lumi, clutching the photo. “Thanks for this. I’ll see you later, I hope?”
She smiled. “We’ll be here for a bit.”
I headed to my room first to put the picture away before crossing the hall to Konstantin’s room, only to find Alexis had gotten there before me. She was curled up with Konstantin on the bed, reading a book to him. I remembered what Ares had said about how much she’d wanted a child and couldn’t have one—the child Ares himself had obviously tried in vain to give her. I shuddered at the thought.
I’d arrived just as they were finishing the book, and Alexis looked up at me with a completely unreadable expression. It was like looking into the face of a Barbie doll, all petite, impossible perfection and no clue as to what was underneath. I normally didn’t compare myself to other women. There really wasn’t much point; I was well aware that I didn’t fit society’s standards for beauty. But it was impossible to be anything other than hyperaware of my flaws while in the presence of Alexis.
“Hello, Millie. Koste’s been singing your praises.”
I smiled uncertainly. “He has?”
“You got those bruises keeping him from falling off the cliff by the lighthouse.”
I’d almost forgotten the bruises in my inventory of imperfections. “Yes, there was a bit of a mudslide in the rain the other night.”
Alexis rose and set their book on the bedside table. “Seems like that lighthouse is a magnet for accidents.” She bent and kissed Konstantin on the forehead. “I’ll see you later, darling.”
Konstantin looked disappointed. “Can’t we read another book?”
“We can read as many books as you like, but right now I have to rescue Basil from some undoubtedly boring conversation.” She winked at him. “Grown-ups. Besides, Millie’s here to see you, and you should eat your dinner before it gets cold.” She moved his dinner tray back over his lap, and I stepped out of her way as she moved past me toward the door, but she hooked her arm around mine and turned me about. “I’m just going to borrow Millie for one second.”
I went with her, bemused, and waited while she drew Konstantin’s door shut behind us.
“I’m serious about that lighthouse,” she said in a low voice. “I think you should burn it to the ground.”
“Excuse me?”
“When you take possession of your inheritance, it’s yours to do with as you please, but I think it’s cursed. Right down to the wood it’s made from.” She rolled her eyes at my expression of surprise. “Vella told us you were the rightful Strand heir. She also told us she planned to buy you out.”
“Buy me out? She wanted me to sign it over to Lukas.”
“And she would have offered you ample compensation if you refused. Which I gather she never had a chance to discuss with you.’
I shook my head wordlessly, not wanting to say out loud that she’d taken her own life before she’d gotten around to it.
“I realize you’re a suspect in my sister’s death—if her fall is determined to be foul play. My brothers have speculated that your newfound inheritance gives you motive. I wasn’t sure until I saw you, but I’m quite certain you didn’t push Vella out of a lighthouse window. Nevertheless, I’m equally convinced she was pushed by someone. The same someone who shoved her little boy down a flight of rotting stairs. She would never have killed herself, and certainly not over that.”
An unpleasant sensation pricked at the back of my neck. “Over what?”
“You know very well over what. I won’t defend the family practices. Regardless of the fact that it was their choice to continue the tradition at my father’s urging, they were far too young to have a choice like that thrust upon them.” Alexis pressed her palm over her womb in an unambiguous gesture. “And I can’t help feeling somewhat responsible for not being able to take that burden from them. But Vella was not distraught over it.”
“You didn’t see her the day she fell. She was full of guilt and shame. It ruined her relationship with Lukas. She could barely keep it together when she told me, and then she ran out of the cottage like a ghost was chasing her.”
Alexis studied my face as if to see if I was lying. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“Perhaps you didn’t know your sister as well as you thought.”
“And you did?” Alexis laughed. “No. However it may have been affecting her that day, she would never have left Koste. Not to Lukas.”
“What is that supposed to mean? Lukas is his father.”
Alexis shrugged. “Probably. That doesn’t mean Koste is safe with him. Someone pushed him down those stairs.” My mouth dropped open, and for a moment, I couldn’t even respond. “Aravella didn’t trust him.” She lowered her voice still more. “He wants to put Koste in a home.”
I shook my head. “He would never hurt Koste. You’re absolutely wrong about him. Lukas is worried about him, with good reason. We both nearly died on that cliff because Koste walked out there on his busted leg in some kind of fugue in the middle of the night. He’s done it twice in the week I’ve been here. But Lukas won’t be putting him in a home,” I added under my breath. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”
Alexis studied me for a moment, and then nodded. “Good. I’m glad he has you here, then. But you’d better continue to be here for him. And don’t let him out of your sight until whoever killed my sister is punished for it. Because if anything happens to my nephew, I’m holding you responsible.” She turned and walked away, not a wrinkle or a piece of lint marring the tailored black pantsuit.
How had I become responsible for Konstantin? I shook my head and opened the door, putting on a bright, cheerful voice as I greeted him. “Hey, kiddo.”
But Konstantin was fast asleep. And his plate was clean.
Chapter Sixteen
As I returned to the gathering after sitting by Konstantin’s side for a while to be sure he was deeply asleep and not about to get up for a somnambulant adventure, Lukas came to meet me with a glass of golden pinot gris. “How is he?”
“He’s asleep. Like a stone.” I sipped my wine, studying his gaze as he seemed to search mine. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but he was wide awake until he ate, and now he’s out cold.”
“It could be hypoglycemia,” said Lukas. “Or a sleep disorder.” I opened my mouth to interject, but Lukas continued. “But unfortunately, I think you may be right.” He glanced around as if to be sure no one was within earshot. “Because I remembered something about those days surrounding the fir
e. I had a number of ‘sleepwalking’ incidents, just like Konstantin’s been having. I’d suspect something hereditary, except that after the accident and the fire, it never happened to me again.” His expression was grim. “Karolina has been with us since I was a boy. And for a little while, I had a special diet. For allergies. Which went away.”
The idea was nearly incomprehensible. “You mean to say she was tampering with your food thirty years ago and now she’s doing it to Koste? Why?”
“I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” At the slight slur in his speech, I glanced at the empty glass in his hand, and his eyes followed my gaze. “Yes, I’ve had a few, Vella.” I blanched and it took him a few beats to realize what he’d said. “Shit.” He set his glass down, turned and walked to the buffet, and took a full bottle from the side table before returning to where I stood. “I think the only reasonable response to this entire fuckamarole is to get completely shift aced and behave inappropriately. Care to join me?” He’d poured into my half-full glass without waiting for an answer.
I had to work not to smile at his “shit-faced” spoonerism. The situation was anything but amusing, but he seemed so much like the Lukas I remembered instead of the bitter, controlled Lukas I’d seen since my arrival at the Strand.
It appeared, however, that inappropriate inebriation was de rigueur for the wake. Alexis was laughing too loudly at something Ares was saying across the room—a somewhat jarring sound on such a somber occasion, though no one seemed to react with shock or disapproval—and beside them, Aristos looked rumpled and flushed, downing a glass of cabernet like it was a shot of whiskey.
Lukas lifted his refilled glass and clinked it against mine. “Zoi se mas.”
My discomfort with the idea of drinking with Lukas at his wife’s wake was somewhat lessened when Lumi and Freyr joined us. Lukas refilled both their glasses with pinot gris though they’d been drinking red wine, but they smiled good-naturedly and drank it anyway.
