Aphrodite's Stand

by Sandra Scott

  The words as his wife were left hanging in the air, unspoken.

  Too embarrassed to admit to Sly that she hadn’t known, yet refusing to lie in order to save face, Andra gave her a noncommittal smile.

  “Hey, Sly, why are you here?” Jayson interjected quickly, nervously glancing over at the baggage conveyer as it came to life. He turned, his feet performing a weaving dance through the terminal crowd, leading Andra and Sly on either side of him. Reaching the moving belt, he spotted familiar luggage and quickly retrieved it. “Where’s Stefano? He decided not to come, so he sent you to pick us up?”

  “No,” Sly began.

  “Certainly not, baby brother. I’m right here.”

  Andra and the others turned toward the deep voice. Upon first encountering her brother-in-law, she had to hold back a gasp.

  Staring at Jayson’s older sibling, she was first aware he was extremely good looking. Like Jayson’s, his slightly older face gave the impression it had been etched from the likeness of ancient Greek gods. However, whereas Jayson’s face was open, honest, lively, and inviting, Stefano looked as if his face had been carved from actual stone—it was dark, closed, brooding, and sporting.

  He radiated an undeniable hardness.

  She moved closer to Jayson; however, a second later, her husband was gone.

  “Big brother!” he called out, rushing into Stefano’s arms and crushing him in a bear hug. Moments later, Jayson took a step back from an embrace that was both welcoming and restrained. Tilting his head, he beamed at Stefano, who stood a couple inches taller. “You’re looking good, my man!”

  Upon witnessing Stefano’s frown at being called “my man,” Andra looked at Jayson. To her surprise, he seemed not to notice Stefano’s negative reaction.

  “You are looking surprisingly well, little brother.” Stefano’s accented tone sounded as stiff as his posture. “I’m glad for your safe return.”

  “Thanks. And now,” he said, and fearfully, Andra watched Jayson turn toward her, his hand rotating Stefano’s frame with him. “I would like you to meet your sister-in-law—my wife, Andra.”

  Her peripheral vision afforded her a glance at Sly, who watched the scene with a bemused smirk. Although uncomfortable under her scrutiny, Andra dismissed the female Grecian’s unspoken critique to focus on her new brother-in-law.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you in person,” she said, hating the tremor that fueled her tone. Undecided regarding whether she too should hug Stefano, she held back, waiting for his signal. “I’ve heard so much about you from Jay.”

  Stefano produced another frown at her nickname for Jayson. She decided not to hold her breath waiting for a welcoming embrace from him, when Stefano launched an impromptu stiff bow her way.

  “It is meaningful to make your personal acquaintance.” As he straightened to his full height, his brooding dark eyes raked her body. “Unfortunately, my brother has not told me quite enough about you.”

  Meaningful? What does he mean by that? Does the word ‘meaningful’ even go with that sentence? She shivered despite the warmth of the airport. Don’t take what he says personally. This is a foreign country. Their manner of conversation differs from the States.

  Again, Andra experienced Stefano steamrolling her body. She stiffened further when Sly sidled beside her.

  “Well,” Sly said, looking at Stefano and back again. “How you like, African Queen?”

  Andra wasn’t going to touch that question with a ten-foot Grecian pole.

  Gracing the annoying woman with her most charming smile, she returned her gaze to the brothers, who were now deep in conversation. Since his attention was diverted elsewhere, she bravely took a closer gander at her in-law.

  Stefano stood proudly, his demeanor taciturn, projecting an aura of displeasure at the whole situation—meaning he was displeased with her. A fleeting picture of the young couple and the older gentleman walking arm in arm through the airport exit flashed before Andra’s eyes only to dissipate into a puff of smoke.

  Andra had to resign herself to the fact that the lighthearted scenario she’d hoped would be hers too had vanished into dismal nothingness.

  9

  Dinner was to be promptly at six o’clock.

  Arriving early at five forty-five, Andra hesitated inside the doorway of the villa’s formal dining area, holding tightly to Jayson’s hand. The room was vast and tastefully ornamented. The decorator had made excellent use of space and light, creating both intimacy and opulence.

  “Wow.”

  Andra realized that since her arrival in Greece, she’d been unable to stop saying that word.

  Her wide eyes traveled the elegantly decorated rectangular room. Looking upward, she stared in awe at the crystalline chandelier hanging in all its elegance over the long dining room table. To her delight, the sound from multiple dangling teardrop-shaped crystals tickled her ears as they gently swayed in an invisible breeze, tapping one another to create a faint melodic tinkle.

  She imagined that her own eyes reflected the same sparkling flecks produced by each piece that caught the ebbing afternoon sun.

  Although the flickering lights contributed to the brightly lit dining area, the main illumination came from the opposite end of the room, courtesy of two white French doors thrown open wide to reveal a cobblestone-covered veranda beyond.

  “Hey, buddy,” Andra said, awed, “I knew you said your family was holding, but you failed to mention just how much!”

  Jayson laughed. “It’s only home,” he said, squeezing her hand. “No big deal.”

  “Yeah, right!”

  She blew a single breath upward, the puff causing a lock of curly hair to lift off her forehead. Shifting downward, her eyes critically appraised her black blouse, form-fitting blue jeans, and black low-heeled leather boots.

  “You like?” Jayson whispered into her ear.

  “Yes,” she whispered, turning to him. “Your home—this room—is beautiful, but what I’m wearing doesn’t go. Maybe I should head back up and—”

  “No,” he said, lowering his head toward her. “You’re beautiful—just as you are.”

  Andra lifted her chin, anticipating a kiss suddenly aborted by a biting tone.

  “If you don’t mind, you are blocking the entrance for others.”

  Andra automatically stepped back, allowing a regal Stefano to stroll between them. George entered the room behind him, taking advantage of the opening as well. Upon passing through, he murmured a polite “Excuse me” in his heavily accented voice.

  She managed a friendly smile for her father-in-law; however, she threw Jayson a displeased glare concerning Stefano’s rudeness. To her annoyance, he ignored the small incident, looking relieved when his cell phone rang. Pulling it from his pocket, he hesitated and shrugged at her with a silent message: Don’t mind him—that’s just Stefano.

  “Whatever, dude,” she muttered at his retreating back.

  As Jayson headed to the other side of room for better phone reception, Andra’s mind revisited the uncomfortable ride from the airport.

  An unobtrusive Stefano had chauffeured while the lovely Sly rode beside him. Turned sideways toward the backseat, she’d filled the car with lighthearted prattle and charming local gossip. Meanwhile, sitting next to Andra, Jayson had struggled to contribute polite responses to Sly’s chitchat. However, the effort eventually exceeded his male capabilities and he ended up staring out his window at passing scenery, leaving Sly to continue with an awkward one-sided dialogue.

  Her mother’s saying “Even fools seem intelligent when silent” had bounced around inside her head. She’d kept quiet.

  Coming back to the present, Andra fought to contain tears at the situation she now found herself in. She sniffled once, again opting for silence, hoping to appear to the others as the wisest woman there.

  Trying to avoid Stefano�
�s gloomy presence, she scanned her in-laws’ stately dining room and the subtle wealth it conveyed. Suddenly, not wanting her mute idleness at the dining room’s entrance misconstrued as imbecilic, Andra purposefully strolled over to the long dining table. Undecided on where to sit, she decided to outwait the men in taking a seat.

  Specifically, she wanted to see where her brother-in-law would park himself—in order to choose the chair farthest from him.

  Her antsy mood heightened when no one appeared in a hurry to claim a spot at the table. Making better use of her fidgeting hands, she lightly touched the artfully arranged silverware set before her while keeping a covert eye on Stefano. He seemed reluctant to be anywhere but next to the dining room’s self-serving bar.

  Notwithstanding her distaste for him, she watched in fascination as his large hands lifted a brandy glass, threw a few ice cubes into it, and slowly poured dark brown liquid over them.

  “Great,” Jayson said, breaking the silence as he stuffed his cell phone back into his pants pocket. “I have a meeting with the church’s padre next week. I’m eager to see what’s happening over there.”

  Next week? Andra’s mouth dropped open only to quickly shut. We’re going to be here that long?

  Jayson chuckled, his face bemused as he too watched Stefano. “I’ve noticed you’re still putting ice in your brandy, big brother,” he said. “Isn’t expensive brandy supposed to be sipped at room temperature?”

  “I like it cold,” Stefano said.

  Just like you. Immediate guilt washed over Andra at the unkind thought, causing her to silently repent. Still, she couldn’t help but mentally lament why they couldn’t just have dinner and be done with family hour. This is madness.

  As if reading her thoughts, Stefano stopped pouring. “We all should have a drink while waiting for the others to arrive.”

  Others? Forcing herself not to wring her hands in despair, Andra sighed heavily. Great!

  Filling his snifter to its preferred limit, Stefano glanced toward the veranda doors, where George stood. “Father?”

  “A small one, please,” his father replied, breaking free from the approaching sunset to glance over his shoulder. “No ice.”

  Stefano then raised the brandy container—and one sarcastic eyebrow—Jayson’s way. “Reverend, care for one?”

  Jayson’s good-natured expression switched off. “No, thank you,” he said. His face grim, he strolled across the room to stand next to Andra and placed a possessive arm about her waist. “And you know I’m not a reverend—simply a seminary student.”

  Stefano took time for a microscopic shrug. His averted face was filled with hard angles and rigid planes as he poured liquor in a second glass for their father.

  “Stefano,” Jayson said, his arm around Andra’s waist tightening, “you didn’t ask my wife if she wanted a drink. It’s rude, big brother.”

  The silent air in the room grew more stifling while Stefano calmly delivered George his drink. Only after he’d returned to the bar to retrieve his own brandy and taken a leisurely sip did he respond.

  “I’m sorry. I figured since you are now matrimonially one mind and one flesh, I assumed she, like you, would not care for one.” His dark eyes resembled twin stalagmite rocks. “However, I stand corrected. Would your nurse care for a drink?”

  Andra gasped indignantly. “Why you—” She stopped short when Jayson released her waist.

  “First, my wife’s name is Andra,” Jayson said firmly. “Second, you know she’s a fully licensed doctor, not a nurse.”

  “My mistake, little brother,” Stefano said. He turned to face Andra directly. “And my sincere apologies, madam. Would you care for a drink—or would you prefer Jayson answer the question for you? It appears that for a physician, you lack proper communication skills—or has a cat claimed your tongue?”

  In her anger, Andra lifted a hand to silence Jayson and almost backhanded him with it. “Thank you, babe. But I’ve got this one.” She stared intently at her husband’s brother, whose appearance was made of stone. “It’s Dr. Theonopilus to you, sir. And for the record, the expression’s ‘Cat got your tongue?’—to which I can reply no, it hasn’t. I’m just determined not to respond to asinine gibberish that pours from the mouths of self-centered, self-absorbed blowhards like you.”

  “Andra,” Jayson warned.

  “Enough,” George said from across the room. Straightening, he rotated toward the others. “That is quite enough.”

  Thoroughly rebuked, Andra bowed her head and faced the music her father-in-law was about to play. Yet to her surprise, the older man’s stern expression turned not to her but to Stefano.

  “Son, there is never a time for rudeness. Please apologize to your sister-in-law this instant.”

  The room’s attention shifted toward the silent Stefano. Andra held back a smirk. It now appeared a pesky feline had latched onto his tongue.

  Stefano’s defiant pause lengthened. Embarrassed, George looked to Andra. “My daughter, I must apologize for my son’s behavior—something I have not had to do since he was, what, ten years old?” The older man sighed as distress, anger, and sadness mixed to paint his face. Disapprovingly, he shook his head at his oldest son. “Your mother and I did not raise the man you are right now.”

  Stefano’s frame swayed slightly at the parental rebuke. He downed his drink in one gulp and performed an exaggerated bow Andra’s way.

  “Again, my sincere apologies, Dr. Theonopilus,” he said, emphasizing her title.

  Andra stifled a snort, knowing that despite his father’s chastening, Stefano mocked her anyway. As the room’s attention refocused upon her, the waiting silence bullied her into being civil in return.

  “Apology accepted,” she said. Then, in an attempt to outdo his politeness, she begrudgingly added, “And it’s Andra.”

  Once again, Stefano bowed slightly, and in her estimation, he dismissed her with the gesture.

  “Looks like one big, happy family,” a lilting voice called out from the doorway. “Are we late?”

  Upon hearing the female accent, Andra bit back a retort. Oh, great! More toxins to fill the air.

  Her ire at Stefano was downgraded to simple annoyance once her focus rerouted to the doorway. Standing there was Sly, looking more beautiful than ever. Her long, thick hair was swept high upon her head. Curly tendrils and big gold-hooped earrings framed her heart-shaped face, while her toned body sported a simple white silk blouse over black slacks. Her radiant loveliness nearly overshadowed the handsome male who stood next to her.

  “Sly, Paulo, your timing’s impeccable,” Stefano muttered as he turned to refill his glass with more ice cubes and brandy. He raised his replenished drink in salute, speaking with a louder monotone. “Yes, just one big, happy family gathering, as you can see.”

  At the word family, he looked succinctly at Andra, his cold stare implying she needn’t consider herself included.

  “Papa Georigios!” Sly cried, her accented voice causing her exclamation to sound melodic. She raced to his side and hugged the older man with great enthusiasm. “You are looking extremely handsome this evening. What—you got yourself a girlfriend? I’m jealous.”

  Ha-ha! Andra thought, wanting to roll her eyes. Kiss-up.

  George’s carefree laughter filled the air. “Thank you, Sylvia,” he answered, beaming with a newfound happiness. “And you become more and more like your lovely mother—may she rest in peace.” His eyes bounced from Sly to Andra and back again. “No new love interests, but the beauty in this room can revive even the loneliest of hearts. And speaking of beauty, have you met my daughter-in-law, Andra?”

  “Yes, I’ve met the ravishing Dr. Theonopilus.” Sly smiled at George, peeked over at Andra, and then turned her brother’s way. “Paulo, this is her. What did I tell you?”

  I can only imagine, Andra thought wryly.

  P
aulo’s long stride quickly covered the distance between him and Jayson, and he stretched out his hand in a friendly fashion, prompting Jayson to grab it with an ardent handshake. “J. J., so nice to see you again!”

  “It’s been a long time, Paulo.” Jayson pulled away, grinning. Simultaneously, they turned to Andra, and Jayson said, “This, my friend, is my lovely wife, Andra. Andra, this is my childhood friend Paulo Menkos.”

  An appreciative gleam entered Paulo’s eyes, his smile escalating charismatically. “The word lovely does not quite fit, my friend, nor does my sister’s description.” He leaned over and lifted Andra’s hand. His lips barely touched her skin, making the gesture more or less erotic. “Stunning, breathtaking, and maybe magnificent, yet still, those words are not quite enough. It’s so nice to make your acquaintance, my omorfi Andra.”

  “Down boy,” Sly said, her tone playfully suggestive. “Be respectful. Do not forget she is a doctor.”

  “Stunning,” Paulo said, searching Andra’s overwhelmed expression. “And intelligent.”

  Under his opulent praise, Andra lifted her free hand to her cheek and smiled in shy embarrassment. “Thank you. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Paulo.” She paused to gather her scattered thoughts. “I’m not sure what omorfi means, so I guess you’d better just call me Andra.”

  “It means ‘exceedingly beautiful,’” Paulo said, bowing even lower over her hand, wiggling his eyebrows in a playful manner.

  “By all means, call me omorfi!”

  Laughter broke out in the room. She raised her head, taking in the sight beyond Paulo’s bowed frame just as the antique clock upon the wall struck 6:00 p.m.

  Across the room, the disapproving snarl on Stefano’s face froze her smile.

  Like during the car ride from the airport, maybe even more so, Andra fervently wished the situation she found herself in was already over.