by Tarr, Hope
“What did your father say?” Another wonderful smile accompanied the question, the tanned skin at the corners of his eyes crinkling, his irises in the shade more amber than brown. Not that she noticed—much.
On the verge of submerging in those golden pools, Stefanie hauled herself back. She was supposed to be the seducer, not the other way around. Given all that stood at stake, she couldn’t afford to forget that Nick was still the enemy.
“He wasn’t thrilled at first,” she admitted, “but I begged and pleaded, showed him my business plan, and eventually he loaned me the start-up money. The delivery van, the commercial kitchen equipment, my assistants—I couldn’t have afforded any of it without him.” The tradeoff was that the trip to Greece, or anywhere overseas, had gone on the back burner—indefinitely.
His gaze speared hers. “And did you honor your word and repay him?”
Talk about your loaded question. “Yes, I did, but it took me several years and…the economy was a lot better back then.”
His smile flattened. “The global recession is a grim reality for us all but for some it is also an easy excuse for shirking their responsibilities. America, like Greece, is filled with people seeking easy money, a fast buck as you say. Oftentimes their greed blinds them to the risks they are taking until it is too late. Should governments and those who have proceeded more prudently be held responsible for rescuing them? I do not believe so. But tell me, what do you think?”
Despite the lovely moments they’d shared since his arrival, Stefanie felt herself bristling. Were circumstances otherwise, she wouldn’t have hesitated to serve him a healthy helping of her thoughts. What did Mr. Harvard Law and Greek tycoon’s kid know about belt tightening? But she wasn’t here with Nick as only herself. She represented her family, her father, as his daughter as well as a board member of the company that owed Nick’s two and a half million dollars. He could break them if he chose, seize Olympia, and mine it for assets or absorb it altogether.
Biting her lip, she looked away. “You forget I’m just a…caterer.”
He stared at her as though disappointed. “We are all of us many things. No, you are not only a caterer as I am not only the CEO of Costas International. We are each someone’s child, someone’s grandchild. I am also a father, an enthusiastic if less-than-gifted soccer player, a skilled sailor.” He snagged her gaze and, lowering his voice, added, “A lover…or at least I hope to be again.”
Stefanie caught her breath. Was he flirting? For a player like Nick, flirting probably came as easily as breathing. With his laser focus and ready smiles, he was the type who could make any woman feel as though she were the center of the universe—for a time. Sternly she told herself not to read too much into anything he said. The words, the looks, must mean nothing, though the warmth spreading through her certainly felt like something.
His gaze flickered over her again. “What of you, Stefanie? You are passionate about food, your family, your business. It is obvious you are a devoted daughter to this father of yours, whom I have yet to meet, but what else?”
Seen through his worldly eyes, her life must look dull indeed. What would he think of her were he to find out that she was the cause of her father’s financial plight? Would he feel pity, disgust, perhaps both?
“Isn’t that enough?”
His expression gentled. He shook his head. “No, I do not believe it is. But more to my point, I do not believe you think it is, either.”
Her job called for early mornings and occasional late nights. On evenings when she didn’t have an event to staff, she was in bed by ten, asleep by eleven. For the first time it struck her that maybe Macie had been right all along. Maybe her dateless existence wasn’t about not being thin or pretty enough. Maybe she hadn’t put herself out there. Chunky thighs had made an easier target for blame than admitting the truth: fear.
Her phone went off, belting out the first few bars of Zorba the Greek. Her pop’s timing was as infallible as ever.
Holding in a groan, Stefanie dug inside her purse. “Sorry, I have to get this.”
“Of course, please take your time.” He withdrew and walked over to join Mara in looking at the otters.
Lowering her voice, Stefanie answered, “Pop, this isn’t a great time. What is it?”
“This is how you answer your phone? What happened to ‘hello’?”
“Sorry, it’s just that I’m not alone. I’m with…Nick. We’re at the zoo.”
“The zoo?”
Not prepared to go into Mara, she said, “It’s a long story. What do you need?”
He hesitated. “If you must know, I called to apologize.”
This was a first. “For what?”
“For the other night with Jacquie and the girls. I was on the phone with my banker when they snuck out. I just found out. It was wrong of them to barge in on you.”
Was that all? The welcome dinner seemed an eternity ago. “Don’t worry about it. Everything…worked out.”
She left it at that. Her pop was fond of his svelte second wife, but then he was also a man who preferred being married, just as Jacquie preferred dabbling in their business to working as a full-time real-estate agent. In that sense, their union made sense. And yet not even on their wedding day had Stefanie seen her father look at his second wife with anything close to the tenderness, the deep affection, he’d showered on Stefanie’s mother. Her parents’ fairy-tale happiness hadn’t last “ever after,” but surely a big love like theirs was worth holding out for—wasn’t it?
She glanced over at Nick, who’d lifted Mara into his arms so she could get a better view. He was a complicated man, a study in contradictions. As Stefanie had seen, there was a great deal more to him than his player past.
“What do you mean by ‘worked out’?” Her father’s demand jarred her back to the moment.
The High Road only ran so far. “Why don’t you ask Jacquie?”
“I’m asking you.”
“It went…fine.”
“Fine?”
“Naturally he wanted to know why you weren’t there. I explained about your…flu, and then I served dinner. We ate, we talked, and then everyone left. That’s about it.”
“How do you find him?”
Stefanie hesitated. It was hard to form an answer with words like drool-worthy and delicious cropping to mind. “He’s…nice, super-smart, a little on the arrogant side, used to getting his way but funny, too—and kind,” she added, thinking of how he was not only with Mara but with her.
“So he is Max’s son after all,” he said, his tone softening.
Stefanie blew out a breath. “I really have to go. I promised to keep him posted on your…condition. At this point, I’m not sure what you expect me to say.”
“Say I am confined to my bed until Tuesday at the earliest.” He sighed. “It is not far from the truth.”
The latter brought on a frisson of fear. The years with Jacquie had changed him. Even before the crash of ’08, he was tense. He drank ouzo every night instead of only on weekends. And as was the case with Acropolis Village, he kept secrets. None of it did him any good.
“Are you okay? Jacquie said your ulcer was acting up.”
“It is. How could it not be? I haven’t told her yet, but I may have to take out a second mortgage on the house.”
“Oh, Pop.” That house, the kitchen especially, was Stefanie’s last tangible connection to her mother. The possibility of losing it too, along with the company, made her heart clench.
“Don’t despair, little one. Monday morning is not here yet.”
“What are you going to say to him once it comes?”
“That depends on what happens or does not happen in these next days. For now, keep him happy. Whatever news Monday brings, I am going to need Nick Costas in a good mood.”
…
Sunday & Monday, July 6 & 7
The following two days sped by in a flurry of sightseeing as they ticked off the items on Stefanie’s suggested agenda—the Wa
shington Monument, the Jefferson and Lincoln Memorials, the National Museum of American History, the International Spy Museum, the White House, and paddle boating on the Tidal Basin. The Treasury tour would have been fun, too, but she decided against it. Watching currency being minted was always a kick, but given the purpose of Nick’s visit, it seemed smart to avoid anything that might bring up money as a topic.
A midday Monday check-in with her father brought mixed news. His broker could probably get him a home equity loan at 125 percent of his house’s value, but the interest rate would be nosebleed steep and the application would require a new appraisal to confirm the property’s estimated value of $1.25 million. Even with pulling strings and calling in past favors, getting approval would take time. The process couldn’t possibly be completed before Nick left for Greece on Thursday. Did Stefanie think he could be persuaded to wait a few more weeks if shown proof that a major chunk of the repayment, possibly as much as half, was being mustered?
Keeping an eye on Nick and Mara, stuck in a vendor’s snack line a few yards away by the Tidal Basin, she dragged a hand through her hair. “Maybe, Pop, but honestly I don’t know. I mean, he’s going to want to know your plan for raising the other half. If you were him, wouldn’t you?”
“Who’s side are you on?” he snapped.
Stefanie swallowed hard. “Yours, of course,” she said, though the reply didn’t ring as true as it would have just a few days ago.
She thought not only of Nick and his father, who had given the loan money in good faith, but of Mrs. G—Mona—and all the other retiree residents like her and her husband who’d been promised so much and so far had received so little. Maybe it was time her father and the board, including her, admitted they were in over their heads. Maybe it was time to come clean and ask for some help.
But that wasn’t her call to make…was it?
Her pop’s voice called her back to the present. “Little one, forgive me. I did not mean to snap at you. It’s not your fault.”
Tearing up, Stefanie said, “Actually, it is my fault. Pete—”
“Is a very bad man who fooled many people, not just us. If anyone should have known better, it’s me.”
“What shall I tell Nick? I can’t put him off for much longer. You could have bubonic plague at this point, and he still isn’t going to leave without meeting with you.” Or his money, she held off adding.
He sighed into the receiver. “Jacquie has gone out somewhere and I am stuck here at the house waiting for the appraiser. He’s promised me a report in twenty-four hours. As soon as I have that number, I will know how much I can promise to repay upfront. I hate to ask but can you—”
“Stall him for another day, right, got it.”
…
At Stefanie’s suggestion, they ended Monday’s touring with a ride on a mule-drawn barge on the C&O Canal. Despite the muggy temperature and persistent flies, the one-hour boat trip departing from and returning to Georgetown was a huge hit with Mara. Watching park rangers dressed in eighteen seventies clothing lift and lower the locks provided a particular kick as well as a painless history lesson.
Strolling along the towpath back toward Nick’s hotel, Mara just ahead, Stefanie waited for him to ask the daily question: when will I meet with your father?
Instead, he turned to her and said, “Have dinner with me tonight.”
The invitation jolted her, and not only because she’d been caught up in going over the earlier phone call with her pop. Still, she told herself she must be reading too much into it. Since her first night’s welcome supper, their meals had mostly consisted of fast food eaten on the go or quick bites in kid-friendly eateries.
Fanning away flies, she said, “Given the hot dog, soft pretzel, and lemonade Mara inhaled at lunch, are you sure she’s even going to want dinner?”
“I mean the two of us.” He leaned closer, his shoulder brushing hers, his mint-spiced breath fanning the side of her face. Casual as the contact was, Stefanie didn’t think it was incidental. The path wasn’t that narrow.
Feeling as if she were melting, she slowed her step and asked, “What about Mara?”
“The hotel concierge arranged for the same sitter who came last week to return this evening.”
So, he’d already set it up. Stefanie supposed she hadn’t been the only one of them to step aside and make a covert cell phone call. Flattered as she was, she still hesitated. He was pretty obviously asking her out on a date. If she went, where might it lead? Even if the 2.5 million dollar debt was to magically melt away, there were plenty of other obstacles to consider. Nick lived on another continent. He was a full-time single parent. Lastly there was his Elysian lifestyle, a world of private jets and yachts and multiple mansions straight out of a Danielle Steele novel whereas Stefanie had grown up as solidly middle class.
Whoa, talk about getting ahead of herself! It was just dinner, right? Dinner that might lead to him making a move and landing them in bed. Could she really go there knowing that once he left for home she’d likely never see him again? As delicious as a few days’ fling would be, she was and had always been what Macie referred to as a “relationship person.” And yet the attraction she felt for him was beyond any prior physical feeling. Beyond the palpable lust, she simply loved spending time with him.
There wasn’t much left. He flew out on Thursday. There was only tonight and two more days, one of which—tomorrow—he’d already told her he needed to spend prepping for a teleconference of international investors. Wednesday was the sit down session with her father. For all she knew, tonight might well be their last alone together.
Stefanie couldn’t say how it happened but at some point they’d stopped walking. Standing still, he laid light hands on her elbows, drawing her toward him, his scent filling her senses, overcoming both her inhibitions and better judgment. “What do you say, Stefanie? Will you have dinner with me?”
His moist mouth was mere inches away. Stefanie licked her own parched lips before answering. “Yes.”
Mara ran up to them, breaking the spell and bringing Stefanie, at least, to her senses. She stepped back and Nick’s hands fell away.
“Race you to the hotel!” Mara squealed, obviously still in the throes of a sugar high.
Nick grabbed hold of her hand. “It is too hot to race.”
Stefanie took her other hand. “Your father’s right. What if we walk really fast?”
The Four Seasons on Pennsylvania Avenue was five minutes away. Until now, Stefanie hadn’t ventured beyond the hotel lobby. Entering the sleek space and heading to the private elevator with Nick and Mara, she admitted that hanging out with a One Percenter came with perks. Maybe I could get used to this, she mused, watching the floor numbers ascend as the car glided upward.
They stepped out and Nick led the way down the hall, his card key in hand. “After you, please.” Drawing back the door, he held it for Stefanie to enter.
Schooling herself not to stare, she walked into the foyer. She had catering clients in stately Capitol Hill brownstones, suburban McMansions, and sleek city condos such as Macie’s, but Nick’s penthouse suite still stood out as impressive. Cream-colored calla lilies served as the centerpiece for a circular foyer table. Original artwork hung from the walls. French doors opened onto a furnished terrace. Elegant crystal fixtures contrasted with rich wood paneling and a pale palette of silver and cream, offsetting a decor that was cleanly contemporary yet richly classical with Art Deco detailing. More fresh flowers, hydrangeas, were set in low vases about the living and media rooms. Even this late in the afternoon, sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows. What must it be like to live in such grand style, to have extravagance as one’s “normal”?
Aware of his eyes following her, she turned to look at him. “It’s beautiful,” she said simply, tracing a finger along a table’s rich wood inlay.
He flicked his gaze from the fireplace to a large flat-screen TV to the bar area as if seeing it all for the first time. “I suppose
it is.” He focused back on her. “So are you.”
Heat suffused her face. Nick’s flirting suggested she’d soon be getting the spice she’d craved and yet she’d never been the best about accepting compliments.
Mara’s yawn saved her from answering. She crawled up onto the cream-colored couch, and Stefanie and Nick exchanged glances.
Nick walked over, propping Raggedy Ann beside her. “The sitter will be here soon. You should have a nap.”
Mara frowned. “But I’m not sleepy.” Another yawn, even bigger, belied the protest.
Stefanie intervened. “What if I tuck you in? If you’re not asleep in five minutes, you can get back up, deal?”
Mara sent her a skeptical look. “How will I know when it’s five minutes?”
“You can count…sheep,” Stefanie said, sliding Nick a glance. “By the time you reach one hundred, it will have been five minutes.”
“That’s a lot of sheep,” Mara said, expression sober.
“The trick is to count them backward starting with one hundred. That makes the counting go more quickly,” Stefanie fibbed. “I’ll help you get started.”
Mara picked up her doll and slid off the sofa. She looked over to her father. “I will be back in five minutes, Papa.”
“Yes, Mara,” Nick said, losing the battle against smiling.
Taking hold of Stefanie’s hand, she announced, “I will show you the way, so you don’t get lost.”
Folding her fingers around that little hand, Stefanie fought a smile. She’d always wanted a big family. Guiding them toward the alcove, Mara said, “At home I have my own room, but here I share with Papa.”
