by Sandra Scott
With another nonchalant shrug, Racine lifted her chin a notch to stare down the length of her nose at Andra. “Fancy schmancy!” her younger sibling said mockingly in an aristocratic tone. “They’ve sent a servant to announce dinner.” Her face twisted into a devilish grin. “Maybe I should speak to the old girl in private about liberating her from the big, bad Massah!”
Abruptly, Racine walked toward the door with an exaggerated, old-timey slave gait, the song “We Shall Overcome” dripping from poked-out lips.
Scooping up her shoes, Andra raced over to Racine and caught her by the arm. “Don’t you dare say anything to her! You hear me? Helena loves it here. She’s not the one with the problem. You are!” Andra’s expression was both firm and entreating. “Please be good. For me?”
Racine stopped, her expression serious before a slow grin transformed it. “Okay. For you.”
“Thanks, kid.” Smiling as well, Andra wrapped her arm around Racine and hugged her. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Racine reciprocated with a quick squeeze. Gently yet firmly, she extracted herself from Andra’s embrace to continue her trek toward the door. “I’m glad I’m here too,” she said. Abruptly, she stopped short and turned, staring at Andra’s bare feet. “Okay, so tell me—what were you two doing before I knocked?”
After glancing over at her discarded lacy black underwear dangling precariously off the chair in the far corner, Andra made a face of pure innocence. “Well, Jayson was getting ready to have a snack,” she said, slipping on her shoes. Moving past Racine, she headed for the closed door. “But once you interrupted him, he decided to forgo it—for later.”
Racine pretended to puke and rolled her eyes. “Andra, guess what. If this is your attempt at a porn reference, you can just keep it to yourself.”
Flinging open the bedroom door, this time it was Andra who smiled devilishly.
29
Dinner with the Theonopilus Clan, Andra mused silently.
The title would make for a good reality TV show.
Directly across from her mother, Andra watched as Al draped her napkin across her lap and leaned toward George, her soft laughter drifting across the table at something he whispered in her ear. Leaving them to their private moment, she glanced around the rest of the table at the seating arrangement.
To her right sat Jayson and then Racine, and to Racine’s right sat Stefano. Her eyes immediately bounced off his melancholy face to his right, where Sly sat looking as if she had squatter’s rights. Next to her were Paulo, then Al, and then George.
She didn’t know whom to feel the sorriest for: Racine or Stefano. Both projected looks akin to angry displeasure. However, in the end, Andra decided she felt worse for Racine. She remembered her first uncomfortable night at the villa, when she’d had the misfortune of sitting next to Stefano and across from Sly.
Jayson came in a close second for her sympathy. He struggled to maintain a one-sided conversation with a grumpy Racine, who sat mutely beside him. It was almost too painful to watch.
Andra coughed. “Excuse me, George.”
Turning away from Al, he smiled graciously. “Yes, my dear?”
Andra shifted in her seat. “Uh, Papa George, would you be offended if I switched places with Jayson?”
George and Al took a moment to glance at the opposite end of the dining table, both unaware of a possible emotionally explosive situation brewing down that way.
He leaned her way, his mature hand patting hers. “As much as I would like to be selfish and dine between two beautiful women, I understand, my dear.” His voice rose. “Jayson, my son, would you mind switching places with your lovely wife, as much as it grieves me to ask you to do so?” George smiled. “I have an important matter to discuss with you.”
Simultaneously, Jayson and Racine looked relieved. As he rose, Sly quickly spoke up. “But, Papa George, now it won’t be a boy-girl-boy-girl seating arrangement.”
The others stared at her, their expressions ranging from “Really?” to “So what?” to “What’s it to you?” to “Does it matter?”
George politely cleared his throat from the table’s head. “It will be fine, my dear.” He nodded toward Jayson. “Son?”
“Yes, Papa.”
Somber, Jayson stepped behind Andra, planted a kiss on her cheek, and gallantly pulled out her chair. She quickly scanned the table, mentally calculating everyone’s reaction to the current events.
George, Al, and Paulo had positive reactions. Sly’s was negative. Racine looked relieved. Stefano was unreadable.
As Andra finished switching seats with Jayson, Racine sighed, causing Andra to reach out and squeeze her baby sister’s hand. “So how you doing over here?” she whispered.
“How do you think?” Racine said, although not as angrily as she could have. “I can’t imagine how you endured this all by yourself. I’ve half a mind to stay in my room for future dinners.”
Secretly, Andra agreed with her; however, she couldn’t bring herself to tell Racine she’d already done as much, nor would she allow her sister to follow suit. It would make her whole family look like antisocial recluses.
She exhaled in relief when Helena entered the dining room, pushing before her several dinner courses. The dishes’ aromas combined to burst forth in delicious eclecticism. She moved around the table, carefully placing hot dishes around various floral decorations at the table’s center.
Smiling up at the servant as she placed a platter of dessert pastries a few inches from her plate, Andra experienced her mouth water just as her stomach filled with gastric bubbles. Swallowing hard to push down a tide of rising bile, she nudged Racine’s arm. “Hey, I hope you’re not serious about being scarce for dinner,” she said. She shook her head. “You don’t want to appear rude, especially since you’re a guest here. It wouldn’t look right.”
Her face a mask, Racine fidgeted with her silverware, repositioning the eating utensils at an exact distance from each other and her plate. After she made sure they were dimensionally correct, her frown deepened. “I guess so. It’s just that it threw me to have to sit next to Boris and across from Natasha.”
Andra stifled a giggle at Racine’s reference to the villainous husband and wife team from the Rocky and Bullwinkle TV reruns they’d watched as children. Her eyes quickly bounced from Sly, who listened in on their conversation yet pretended not to, moving to Stefano who stared moodily at his brandy and ice.
For a brief moment, a small slice of her pity went to Stefano, who appeared as if he didn’t have an ally in the world.
“Stefano’s not so bad. He’s just profoundly deep is all,” Andra whispered. She took a deep breath. “It’s got to be tough running his family’s business, you know? Like madcap stressful.”
From across the table, Sly daintily cleared her throat. “So, Racine, how are you acclimating to Grecian life?” she asked. “Very different from your own, yes?”
Warily, the sisters stared across the table.
“It’s okay.” First taking a quick peek at Andra, Racine displayed an amicable smile while addressing Sly. “I thank you for asking.”
Seemingly taken aback at the decreased hostility, Sly examined her empty plate. She glanced up again, her eyes now sparkling with the unknown; they traveled back across the table, this time landing directly on Andra.
“It’s nice to see you at dinner again, Yatros,” she said. At Racine’s surprised expression, Sly laughed. “You see, Yatros Andra has not been to dinner since her arrival the first night. She has been—how do you say?—holed up in her room all this time.”
And you would definitely know, wouldn’t you? Andra fumed.
Feeling like an adolescent who’d just been tattled on, Andra lowered her head to study her elegant dinnerware. Her body went slack and then stiffened under Racine’s quiet wrath.
“Andra, what’s she talking about?�
�� Racine hissed, turning to Andra. “And what’s with this Yatros?”
“Yatros means ‘doctor,’” Sly said, interjecting happily.
Racine eight-balled the Grecian with a searing glare. “If that’s what it means, why didn’t you just say doctor in the first place?”
At Sly’s answering shrug, Racine’s hardened expression screamed, “I’m not in the mood, so why don’t you mind your own business?”
She turned back to Andra.
“Tell me something,” she said tightly, “why would you tell me I can’t stay in my room during dinner, when you—”
“We have not given the doctor a reason to come to dinner, have we not, Sly?”
Surprised, Andra lifted her head to gawk at her brother-in-law.
Her face now indignant, Sly stared as well. “I do not know what you mean, Stefano!”
Ignoring her, his eyes shifted toward Andra, their dark orbs landing somewhere above her face. “Papa, Jayson—speaking of business,” he blurted out.
Both George’s and Jayson’s heads jerked to look down at the other end of the table.
“We were, Son?” their father asked, his face blissfully ignorant of the tension that swirled at the other end. Smiling, he turned to Jayson. “Were we speaking business?”
“I don’t recall hearing the word business.” Jayson looked directly across the table. “Did you, Paulo?”
Paulo, in the midst of piecing off a thick section of Greek bread, hastily looked up. “Nor did I,” he said. With a nervous laugh, he concentrated hard on the task of drizzling heated olive oil over the warm bread. His eyes flickered toward Stefano. “But I am willing to listen to all strategies and plans, if needed.”
Stefano motioned for Paulo to send the bread his way. After receiving the platter, he first offered it to Racine, who hesitated before reaching out to tear off a small section for herself. After helping himself to a piece, Stefano next extended the plate Sly’s way. Her face showed her displeasure at not being offered the bread first. She shook her head.
Stefano returned the platter to Racine to pass the bread on to Andra.
“What about the business, Son?” George asked.
“The investor will be here tomorrow.”
A hush settled over the dinner table at the word investor; it generated a perceptible uneasiness, as if a ghost had suddenly manifested inside the dining area.
Jayson broke the silence. “What is this person’s name, Stefano? What time will he arrive tomorrow?”
“His name is Harlan Grainger from Texas. And the meeting is for ten o’clock in the morning.”
Jayson said the name once and paused, his face a mask of concentration. He repeated it a second time. “Where have I heard that name before?”
Stefano’s lips pinched as if he’d just sucked on a sour ball. “I do not know,” he said. “However, I do understand he compares himself to a farm animal. I am not completely sure what to make of him at the moment.”
Jayson’s face cleared. He nudged Andra with his elbow. “Harlan Orlando Grainger!”
“Yes,” Stefano said, his tone not quite hiding his disgust. He then studied Jayson, lifting a quizzical eyebrow. “How did you come to know the gentleman’s name?”
Jayson laughed. “Andra and I met him on our flight over. Man, it’s a coincidence he turned out to be our potential investor. What are the odds?” Bewildered, Jayson grinned, grabbing Andra’s hand. “He was a character, wasn’t he, Doc?”
“Yep,” she said, squeezing back. “A character right out of a soap opera.”
Smiling, Andra scanned the table to include everyone in the conversation, only to stop at Paulo. Whipping into doctor mode, she took in his ashen appearance and the way his hand trembled while lifting his wineglass to his lips. “Paulo, are you all right? Do you need me to give you a once-over?”
As the entire table eyed Paulo curiously, he laughed uneasily. “I’ve never had a doctor as beautiful as you give me the once-over before—but I will pass today.” He slowly rose from the table, rubbing his stomach. “I believe I may have eaten something earlier that does not agree with me. Pardon me if I return home and rest.” As he pushed in his chair, his eyes darted Stefano’s way. “You do not require me at this investor meeting tomorrow, do you?”
Lifting his brandy-filled glass to his lips, he stared over its rim. “No,” he said. “Why should we?”
“Good!” Paulo said, the word sounding as loud as a lit firecracker. Fidgeting with the back of his chair, he smiled self-consciously and cleared his throat. “That is, I will come by in the afternoon—after the meeting has concluded.”
Sly too stood, throwing her linen napkin onto her empty plate. “I will go with my brother.” Her stormy eyes bounced between Andra and Stefano. “Suddenly, I am not so hungry.”
“Good night, you two,” Racine sang out sweetly. Her smile widened at Sly’s toss of her hair. “It’s been fun!”
George and Jayson rose from their chairs, also bidding them good night.
Once the two had disappeared beyond the dining room’s threshold, Racine exhaled. She leaned toward Andra. “I don’t know about anyone else,” she whispered, “but if you ask me, the atmosphere just got a little less heavy.”
Before deciding to rebuke her sister, Andra took a quick consensus of the table, only to reluctantly admit Racine was right. Everyone’s mood suddenly appeared relaxed since the pair had vacated the vicinity. Even Stefano’s stony demeanor had softened somewhat.
George laughed in delight at something Al said before extending to her a vegetable dish, patiently holding it out for her to serve herself. Upon returning the platter to the table, he looked back to his eldest son. “Son,” he said, waiting for Stefano’s nod. “About this Mr. Grainger. We should have a meeting right after dinner. I want to make absolutely sure I understand all there is to know beforehand.”
To Andra’s left, Jayson carefully forked freshly sautéed garlic-and-olive-oil pasta onto his plate. “Fine by me, Papa. But if you don’t mind, not too late. I want to have a snack before turning in this evening,” he said, and Andra kicked Jayson under the table. Grinning, he covertly massaged his bruised ankle with his other foot. “You know, so I can be fresh for our meeting in the morning.”
“That is a good idea, Son.” George turned to Al. “Would you also care for a snack before retiring, my dear?”
Again, Andra kicked Jayson’s shin; she then gritted her teeth when Racine kicked her at the same time.
“Thank you, my friend. I would love a snack before turning in for the evening.” Al produced a wistful look. “I used to indulge when my husband was alive. After his passing, my appetite kinda died with him. I loved Raymond very much.” She took a deep breath and smiled at her host. “Yet now look at me, sitting here in Greece, talking about having a snack with you, George.”
Racine snickered. “Boy, you and Jayson have started something,” she whispered to Andra, her voice filled with satanic glee. “You’re both going to hell over snacks.”
“Why not we all have a snack?” Stefano said, his tone part joking and part sarcastic.
“No, thank you,” Racine said, disgusted.
“What, Racine—you don’t like eating snacks?” Jayson asked innocently.
“Don’t get her started.” Andra kicked his shin once more for good measure. She smiled smugly at his painful grunt. “That’s what you get, buddy.”
Silence fell, and the only sounds were clicking glassware and clattering silverware against platters.
George cut into his grilled goat, speared it, and placed a piece in his mouth. Thoughtfully, he chewed in silence. Then he said, “Stefano?”
“Yes, Papa?”
“We have not agreed upon anything with this Mr. Grainger, correct?”
“Correct.”
“Good. Depending upon the type of businessman h
e may be, we do not want to agree upon anything right away.”
“But he’s flown all the way from Texas,” Jayson said.
“And it was his decision to do so. He appears to have enough money for such adventures.” Stefano’s eyes bounced toward Andra and back to his plate. He toyed with his bread. “No, we have not committed ourselves to anything yet. It is not too late to dissolve the plan.”
Racine delivered a kick lighter than before, letting Andra know she’d observed Stefano’s brief glance her way.
Ignoring her, Andra good-naturedly nudged her husband in the ribs. “Hey, buddy, you gonna pass the pasta this way, or what?”
“I can’t wait to see Mr. Grainger’s face once he realizes it’s my family’s business he wants to invest in.” Jayson turned to Andra and winked, handing her the porcelain platter. “This is going to be some meeting!”
As she dished up the steaming pasta, her mind wandered back to Paulo’s nauseated pallor previous to his and Sly’s exodus. Like Paulo, she experienced a touch of queasiness. The brother and sister’s abrupt exit didn’t sit well with her, nor did the investor meeting the next morning. Neither did the whole freakin’ situation.
Andra couldn’t put her finger on why.
30
Throwing open the double doors to the formal sitting room, Stefano preceded the others, only to stand off to the side, allowing George, Jayson, and Harlan Orlando Grainger to pass on through into the area lit by the midmorning sun.
Just outside the door, Helena moved closer to Stefano. “Is there anything you need?” she asked in rapid Greek. Smiling, she wiped her brow. “I will have to start lunch for the family soon.”
“One moment. I will ask.”
After waiting until the men settled into their chairs, he cleared his throat. “Helena has asked if anyone would care for anything. A drink? Maybe hors d’oeuvres? She will create whatever you wish.”
