Simon patted his shoulder. “Why don’t you go along with her? In fact, I’ll come too, and we can have Athena meet us there. She is coming to the wedding, yes?” The wedding in question was that of a distant cousin, but was no less important than if it had been a closer relation. His family was like that.
“What on earth would I do there?”
“Get a new suit,” Simon’s mother asked sweetly. Helena Katsaros, still stunningly beautiful at fifty-two, provoked her husband to a lot of eye-rolling and sarcasm, but she always got her way.
“I suppose I could stand to get a new one.” Nick Katsaros had aged well too, but looked more his age with a thick head of steel gray hair, and a beard flecked with white that made him look like an elder statesman. He could have been if he’d been so inclined. His influence and power were enormous, but he’d avoided political office, believing that politics and business were better left separate. And his business, building airplane parts, among other things, was the thing dearest to his heart after his family.
“We can make a holiday out of it. Eat at that restaurant you like so much,” Simon told his father. That was always a draw for Nick.
“All right, arrange the flight, Simon. We’ll leave in the morning.”
Though Simon had only just returned home, he didn’t mind the thought of flying out the next day. He liked to travel, and he loved Paris. He’d had some fine times there, though that wasn’t something he’d have said to his parents. They knew he was a bit of a wild child, but not the details of his naughtiness. He didn’t think he could ever face his mother if she’d known, for example, what he’d gotten up to with Gretchen before he put her ashore at Piraeus with a kiss, and a pair of sapphire earrings that Marissa had forgotten in the nightstand when she left him.
He phoned Nina, his parents’ assistant, and gave her the itinerary. “Not before ten though,” he begged her. “I’d like to sleep in tonight.”
“No worries, Simon. I’ll take care of it. I’ll phone the house when I have the schedule.”
He went upstairs to his bedroom, undressed, and slipped between the sheets. He loved his bed. Being in it made him feel like a boy again, safe and at home with family. Much as he traveled, this was better than anything, the luxury of a bed to himself in a room so familiar to him that he could navigate it blindfolded. It held so many pieces of his past, and he was comforted by each one.
He yawned hugely and rolled onto his side, clutching the cool, crisp pillow, and looking out the window into the darkness of the gulf. There was a full moon that night, and though it was not visible from his bedroom window, it illuminated the landscape so that he could see the vague shapes of trees, and in the distance the outline of a mountain, limned with silver. When Athena came home, it would be perfect, he thought as he began to drift into sleep. The family together, that’s how he liked things to be. But of course, it was rare these days, and therefore so much more precious.
Everything fell away, and Simon dreamed of the sea, and of the temple of Poseidon overlooking the blue water.
The next morning, a phone call woke him. “You have an hour until we leave.” His father was always a little annoyed when Simon slept late.
“What’s the time?”
“Nine. Get yourself out of bed, Simon.”
“I’m up, I’m up. Is breakfast ready?”
“Your mother and I are in the dining room.” The connection closed and Simon groaned, and stuck one leg out from beneath the sheet. Surely that was close enough to being up?
“Can’t fall asleep, can’t fall asleep,” he chanted, and finally it worked. He managed to sit up, then stand, then propel himself into the shower where he finally woke up properly. Why had he thought this trip was a good idea?
He threw a few things into a bag and carried it downstairs to try to grab a cup of coffee at least before they left for the airstrip. Nina Calo was at the table with Helena and Nick, just finishing her breakfast. “Good morning, sunshine!” she said with oppressive brightness.
“I’ll let you know when I’ve been up for a while. Please tell me there’s coffee.”
“A bit.”
He poured a cup and sat down.
“You should eat something,” his mother said.
“My stomach isn’t awake.”
Nina got up, filled a plate and set it on the table in front of him. “Your mother is right. Eat. The plane will wait.”
He knew there was no point in arguing so he dug into the eggs and grilled sausages, and the freshly baked bread with cheese and honey. As he ate, his appetite returned, and he cleaned the plate and had a second cup of coffee. “Thank you,” he said. “You were right. I needed that.”
“I’m always right,” Helena said with an impish smile. “Now are we almost ready?”
On the way to the airstrip, Nina confirmed that Athena would be meeting them in Paris, that she and Helena had an appointment with a couturier, and both Nick and Simon had appointments with their tailors.
“What would we do without you, Nina?” Nick asked.
“Hire someone else,” she said.
And once they were on the ground in Paris, and Simon felt the lovely, flower-scented breezes swirling around him, he was glad he’d talked his father into this trip. He and Nick went off to the tailor as soon as they’d dropped their bags at the hotel, and after the fitting, they had a glass of wine at a nearby cafe and watched the world go by.
“I’m glad we’re here,” Nick said. “And I’ll be honest, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something.”
Simon’s good mood evaporated, When Nick got serious like this, it was usually one of those what-are-you-doing-with-your-life talks.
“Simon… have you thought about the future?”
“Not in the last half hour, no.”
“Do you have any plans? What about marriage? A family? Your mother and I aren’t old, but we’d like to see our grandchildren before we die, you know?” He smoothed his mustache in a gesture so familiar that it made Simon smile.
“Just haven’t found the right mother for my children,” Simon joked.
“There are millions of wonderful women out there.”
With a sigh, Simon refilled his glass. “Dad, it’s— I’m—” What could he say about this that he hadn’t already said a dozen times? And then the truth came to him. “I see you and Mom together, and how right it seems to me, and I want that. But it hasn’t felt right with anyone.”
“It didn’t feel that way at first.”
“What do you mean?”
“You mother and I were introduced before the wedding as a courtesy. It was expected that we’d marry. I resisted, she flat-out refused.”
“What?”
“It’s true. It was arranged and we both balked.”
Simon was disconcerted by this wholly unexpected piece of news. “But you got married?”
Nick laughed. “Are you asking, or…”
“That shouldn’t have sounded so much like a question. You got married. How?”
“She and I met secretly to plan how to get out of the situation. One thing led to another… we decided it might not be such a bad idea after all. It was a bit rocky at first, though, at least until I learned that your mother was the boss.” He grinned and sipped his wine. “That’s a piece of advice I hope you’ll heed,” he told Simon. “If you find a good woman, one who is smart and kind, let her have her way on the small things, and work with her on the big ones. You can’t ever go wrong.”
“See? How do I find a woman like that?” Simon asked.
“Open your damn eyes. They’re everywhere. The world is full of them.”
“I haven’t found any.”
“I don’t think you treat them as if you think they’re good women.” Simon’s father was rarely that blunt-spoken about Simon’s shortcomings, so this assessment was particularly damning. He withdrew from the conversation by calling the waiter over and ordering some lunch. Nick didn’t press him on anything, but he did say that
he wasn’t very hungry, and was going to take a stroll. He left Simon sitting alone at the table, feeling fretful and misunderstood. There was time. If he needed to find his own way, why shouldn’t he take the time to make certain he was making the right choices?
He also thought it was unfair of his father to imply that Simon’s relationships failed because they were shallow. He’d tried to make Marissa happy. Hadn’t he bought her a ton of expensive gifts? Hadn’t he taken her everywhere she’d wanted to go? Hadn’t they lived an amazing life together? That flirtation with Gretchen was a misstep, true, but a good woman would have heard him out, perhaps given him a hard time — and he admitted he deserved that much; he behaved stupidly when he drank too much — and then made him swear there’d be no more of that nonsense. She wouldn’t have torn into him in front of his friends and then left him like that.
He ate a little of the fish he’d ordered, but he wasn’t very hungry either, so he pushed it around the plate for a while, feeling sullen and unappreciated. He’d begun to be sorry that he had suggested this trip. He had enough tuxes to go to a dozen weddings, and anyway he didn’t really want to go to this one. A friend of his was marrying one of Simon’s distant cousins, though, and Simon had been asked to be part of the bridal party. He couldn’t very well get out of going.
But now, with Marissa gone, he didn’t even have a date. Going stag was the worst. He’d have to dance with a bunch of homely cousins, all of whom were looking for husbands. Simon wondered if he could come down with something that would keep him in bed on the day of the wedding. Food poisoning, perhaps, or the plague.
Not that his mother would allow it. Helena would throw a bucket of cold water on him if he tried to pretend to be sick. She’d done it to him in the past on several occasions, the most notable being the day he tried to get out of going to school to take an exam. She’d forced him to admit that he hadn’t studied, and then made him get dressed and go anyway. He got an F on the exam and when he complained, all she’d said was, “Then perhaps you’ll study next time, yes? You’ll have plenty of time now since you’re grounded for a week.”
When he complained about how unfair she was being, she’d made it two weeks. He hadn’t tried that again.
Her mother had left magazines strewn in Eirene’s path since the day she’d re turned home from school. They were filled with glossy photos of Simon Katsaros living it up on his yacht, in night clubs, or on the French Riviera with that skinny girlfriend of his, the Italian model. Welcome home, Eirene, here’s the boy we want you to marry! That was the message, of course. No question. Her mother was a great believer in propaganda. Simon’s picture stared up at her from the breakfast table, tales of his high life waited for her by the pool, and even followed her into the bathroom where a stack of glossy magazines and entertainment rags were piled on top of her more usual travel magazines. Eirene hadn’t seen Simon since she was twelve, but she was sick to death of the sight of him.
“Oh my, Simon’s girlfriend has walked out on him,” Eirene’s mother, Thea, exclaimed as Eirene walked through the sun room on her way out to the pool.
“What a surprise,” Eirene replied.
“I’m sure the poor boy could use some comforting.”
“Rebound relationships don’t ever work out well,” she said as she picked up a bottle of sun screen. “I wish his next woman luck.”
“Eirene, don’t you care one little bit?” Thea asked her.
“About Simon Katsaros? Mom the number of effs I give can be counted on the negative digits.”
“You know, the Katsaros family and the Dimitrios family planned for the two of you to be married one day.”
Tcha, sure, like that’ll happen, Eirene thought. To Thea she said, “Yes, Mom, I do know that. Thank God the days of selling your daughter to the highest bidder have not yet come to an end. What would happen to the economy? I’m going out for a swim.”
“Don’t forget the sun block!” Thea called after her and Eirene waved the bottle in the air.
Telling her parents that this marriage wasn’t going to happen hadn’t helped, so after a number of frustrating years, Eirene had opted for sarcasm which Thea didn’t get, but which Eirene’s father actually appreciated even if he didn’t accept what it was she was saying. He’d laugh and say, “You’re your father’s daughter all right,” And almost with the same breath, he’d say, “I hope Simon likes sarcasm.”
“The field where my fucks grow is barren,” she muttered as she stepped out of her sandals and stood at the edge of the pool, head tipped back, drinking in the sunlight. “I have not one to give.”
She dove in, cutting neatly through the clear, clean water. She loved swimming, loved being in the water. Sometimes she floated on the surface of the pool, eyes closed. Paul called her his Nayad, his elemental water spirit. He loved the way her black hair would float around her head like a halo, though he’d make some sort of obscure reference to a nimbus or to some species of seaweed. Never twice the same obscure reference. It was a little tiring.
Still, she loved him… or at least she liked him a lot, respected his intellect, and sensed that they had enough in common (including reasonably good sex) that they could build a fine, professional life together. She often imagined the two of them traveling around the world, living out of their suitcases. She’d photograph everything, and he would write about it in his, frankly a little florid style. She wished he was a bit more influenced by writers like Mark Twain, and less by ones like Henry James, but Paul was Paul. He was an original.
They’d already been to Italy and Turkey together, though she hadn’t actually told her parents that she’d gone there with him. She’d implied that she was traveling with a female school friend. It was just easier than imagining what her mother’s face would look like if she thought her twenty-two year old daughter was no longer a virgin. What would that do to the bride price? Eirene giggled and slipped under the water again.
When she surfaced, she caught sight of her older sister, Rhea, standing beside the pool. “What are you doing?” she shouted at Eirene.
“Swimming. It’s what you do when you propel yourself through water recreationally.”
“Ha ha… I’ve been waiting in the driveway for you. We were supposed to go pick up our dresses this morning.”
“Oh… darn, I’m sorry.” Eirene climbed out of the pool and toweled herself off. “Give me ten minutes.”
“You can’t go with wet hair,” Rhea insisted, following Eirene back into the house.
“Give me ten minutes! And don’t follow me!” She ran upstairs and locked herself in her bedroom, hoping Rhea wouldn’t come up and bother her while she was dressing. In the end, it took her twelve minutes to throw her clothes on, pull her long hair into a ponytail, and blow dry the tail just enough that it would pass Rhea’s critical gaze.
Rhea was incredibly tense about this wedding. It was her first matron-of-honor gig and she seemed to think that was dramatically different than maid-of-honor, or bridesmaid, or any other position in the bridal party, all of which she’d held many times. When Eirene pointed that out to her she gave her a that’s-how-much-you-know look.
Nicki, the bride, had very nearly asked Eirene to stand up with her too, but she’d already invited eight of her friends, sisters, and cousins to serve as bridesmaids, her best friend to be her maid-of-honor, and Rhea as matron, and there wasn’t going to be enough room for the bridal party at the front of the church if this wedding got any bigger. Eirene had jokingly made Nicki promise to think of her next time she got married. Nicki had looked horrified.
Secretly she was glad not to have to stand up. She didn’t like weddings and the only reason she was going was that Nicki was a cousin and she’d never hear the end of it if she tried to opt out. Fortunately Paul was her Plus One, and she figured they’d have a good time together, though Paul wasn’t big on dancing. Or on parties in general. And he wasn’t Greek, which meant he would know anyone but Eirene, wouldn’t be able to talk to most of them
, and would be glared at by her parents the whole night. Still, she’d try to make sure he enjoyed himself.
Rhea was in the car, staring pointedly at her watch when Eirene jumped in beside her. “Twelve minutes. Sue me.”
“Honestly, you’re even more irresponsible than before you went away to school.”
“Rhea, it slipped my mind, okay? Don’t be such a jerk.”
“It’s that boy.”
“When did you turn into Yia-Yia?” Eirene demanded. “You talk like an old woman and you’re only four years older than I am.”
Rhea launched into a litany of Eirene’s sins, but Eirene refused to rise to the bait. She stared out the window and thought about what she was going to do with her life once she’d finished her graduate degree. She had hoped to go on and do her doctorate in Ancient History, but Paul, who was hoping to make a name for himself as a travel journalist, wanted to devote some serious time to travel, so she decided to put off her plans to support him. There was never any problem about traveling, it always enriched and broadened one’s life, she told herself. And it wasn’t as if she couldn’t go for the degree any time. In fact, there was nothing stopping her from writing her own, first-hand accounts of her investigation of ancient sites. She might not even need a doctorate if she followed Paul’s lead and began to be published.
“Are you not listening to me?”
“Not at all,” Eirene admitted. “I’ve heard all this a million times. Has it changed me in any way? No. Why don’t you save your breath, Rhea? And by the way, it’s not all about Paul. This is my life and I’m going to lead it however I want. And if Mama and Papa haven’t been able to change my mind, what makes you think you can?”
ROMANCE: THE SHEIKH'S GAMES: A Sheikh Romance Page 45
