Securing the Greek's Legacy

by Julia James

  The short, rasping laugh came again. ‘No wonder my Marcos wanted her! He had good taste, that grandson of mine!’ There was an obvious note of indulgence in his voice as he talked about Georgy’s father. Then the dark eyes went to his other grandson, seated beside him. ‘As does this grandson too,’ he added.

  His gaze slid back to Lyn, and she felt herself flushing slightly. She dropped her eyes, feeling awkward.

  ‘So,’ Timon went on, ‘you have the wedding all prepared, the two of you?’

  Was there something different about his voice as he threw that at them? Lyn wondered uneasily. But perhaps it was just the thickness of his accent.

  Anatole was answering him. ‘We want you to be out of here first. Back at home.’

  Timon nodded. ‘Well, the wretches who are my doctors tell me that another week should make that possible.’ His eyes went back to Lyn. For a moment there was that measuring expression in them again, and then his face creased into a smile.

  ‘We are going into the city after we have left you,’ said Anatole. ‘Lyn wants to see the sights.’

  Timon’s eyes lit. ‘Athens is the cradle of civilisation,’ he told Lyn. ‘No city in the world can compare to it!’ His eyes went to his great-grandson. ‘It would be unthinkable for Marcos’s son to grow up anywhere else. Unthinkable!’

  ‘Well,’ said Anatole, ‘that is what we are making possible.’

  He nodded at his grandfather and said something to him in Greek that she did not understand. It was probably, she thought, something to do with the legal issues surrounding Georgy’s adoption, because Timon answered in an impatient tone, to which Anatole gave a reply that seemed to have a warning note to it. Lyn could understand how Antole’s grandfather might feel irked by the ponderous and exhaustive bureaucracy of the adoption process.

  Then Timon’s dark, sunken eyes were turned on her again, and once more Lyn felt herself being measured— assessed. She made herself hold the penetrating gaze, though, returning it with a clear, transparent expression. Abruptly Timon’s lined face broke into a smile and he nodded.

  ‘Good, good,’ he said, in his strong accent. Then he lifted a hand. ‘Go—go, the pair of you.’ He turned towards Anatole. ‘Take her into the city. Buy her things she likes,’ he instructed.

  A nurse came bustling in, telling them that Kyrios Petranakos needed to rest now and take his medication. Anatole got to his feet, scooping up Georgy with him. He spoke affectionately to his grandfather in Greek, then came to Lyn as they made their farewells. Lyn was conscious of a feeling of slight relief as they left. Timon Petranakos might be old and ill, but there was an aura of power about him that meant it was more comfortable being out of his presence, however kindly he had been towards her.

  As they settled back into the car and set off for the city centre Anatole looked across at Lyn.

  ‘Not too bad, was it?’ he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. But his eyes had a sympathetic glint in them.

  ‘He is quite formidable,’ she allowed.

  Anatole nodded in agreement. ‘He is of his generation,’ he said. ‘As he demonstrates,’ he added dryly, ‘by his belief that the way to win a woman over is to “buy her things she likes...”’

  Lyn couldn’t help but smile. ‘You don’t have to buy me anything!’ she said. Her expression changed as she gazed at him. ‘And you’ve won me over anyway, already— totally and completely!’

  His eyes caught hers. ‘Have I?’ he said softly

  ‘You know you have...’ she breathed, her eyes and face alight with everything she felt for him.

  He reached across Georgy’s infant seat and lightly, so lightly, brushed Lyn’s mouth.

  ‘Good,’ he said. Then he sat back.

  Just for a moment Lyn thought she could see in his air and attitude the same aura of satisfaction she’d seen in Timon’s smile.

  Well, why not? Anatole is his grandson—of course there will be physical similarities!

  Then Georgy was patting at her arm, wanting her attention. She gave it instantly and fully, as she always did, for never, ever would she dream of neglecting him—not even for Anatole.

  The day they spent in Athens was magical for Lyn. Timon Petranakos had spoken the truth—the city was, indeed, the cradle of civilisation, the birthplace of democracy. As they made their way up to the Parthenon Anatole regaled her with millennia of history.

  ‘How extraordinary,’ Lyn said as they stood and gazed at the peerless ancient monument that had withstood all the centuries had thrown at it, ‘to think that in this very place your ancestors came to worship! Two and half thousand years ago!’

  Anatole gave his wry smile. ‘We take it for granted sometimes and forget how much history we have compared with many other nations.’

  She hooked her hand into his arm. ‘You’d never run out of history here if you were a student,’ she said.

  He glanced across at her. ‘Tell me,’ he asked, ‘if I could track down a suitable course of historical study would you be interested in taking it?’

  She looked at him doubtfully. ‘In Greek?’ she asked. ‘I don’t think I’m anywhere near being able to cope with that.’

  Anatole shook his head. ‘I’m sure there must be courses in English. The British School at Athens, for example, runs English language summer courses in archaeology, I seem to remember. There are probably other opportunities as well—I’m sure we could find something that would suit you. After all, history was what you originally wanted to study before you had to divert to accountancy.’

  ‘It would be wonderful if I could have a go at history again!’ she enthused. Then she frowned slightly. ‘But I don’t think it’s practical now I’m looking after Georgy.’

  Anatole looked at her with his familiar amused expression. ‘Lyn—it’s one of the many perks of wealth that childcare can easily be sorted! Speaking of which...’ His tone of voice changed again, and Lyn looked at him. ‘Timon was telling me that he wants to provide us with a nanny for Georgy.’

  She looked startled. ‘What for?’ she said blankly.

  He made a slight face. ‘Like I said, he is of his generation. To him it is natural for children to be looked after by nursemaids and nannies.’

  ‘I don’t want to hand Georgy over to nursemaids and nannies!’ Lyn exclaimed.

  Anatole kissed her forehead. ‘Don’t worry about it, Lyn.’ His tone of voice changed again. ‘Now, do you feel up to visiting the temple of Nike as well? Or shall we take a coffee break first?’

  They continued with their excursion, and Anatole regaled Lyn with everything he knew about all the monuments they were seeing. By the time they were finished Lyn was glad to set off back home again.

  She looked at Anatole as they settled back into the car. ‘It will most definitely take more than one visit to see everything in Athens!’ she said with a smile.

  ‘In the summer it will get too hot for sightseeing,’ he replied, ‘so it’s best to see as much as possible now, while it’s still relatively cool.’ He smiled. ‘We can drive in again tomorrow, if you like, or if you prefer we could drive out and see more of Attica itself—the whole region that Athens is set in.’

  ‘Oh, that would be lovely!’ enthused Lyn.

  So they took off the next morning, with Anatole driving this time, touring through the Greek landscape, eating lunch at a little vine-shaded taverna, then heading for the majestic temple of Poseidon at Sounion, which stood in breathtaking splendour on the edge of the sea.

  The following day they took a launch across the Saronic Gulf to the holiday island of Aegina, and spent a relaxed day there.

  It was bliss, Lyn thought happily, to have Anatole all to herself—to spend the day with him, enjoying Georgy between them. Happiness ran like a warm current through her—a contentment such as she had never known. Walking, chatting comforta
bly, eating ice cream, Georgy aloft on Anatole’s shoulders as they strolled along the seafront—it seemed to her so natural, so right.

  We’re like a real family...

  That was what it felt like. She knew it did! And if there were to come a time when they would no longer be united like this for Georgy’s sake then it was something she did not want to think about. Not now—not yet.

  For now all she wanted to do was give herself to what she had, what there was between them—which was so, so much! For now this was enough. This happiness that bathed her in a glow as warm as the sunshine...

  CHAPTER NINE

  TIMON ARRIVED HOME from hospital at the end of the following week in a private ambulance and with his own large personal nursing team. Anatole had escorted him from the clinic, and when he was safely installed in his master bedroom, with all the medical equipment around him, Lyn brought Georgy in to visit him.

  This second visit was less intimidating, and although Timon was polite and courteous to her most of his attention was, understandably, focused on his great-grandson. Now that he was back in his palatial mansion she would wheel Georgy up through the gardens to visit him every day, Lyn resolved.

  The following day Anatole arrived back from Athens earlier in the evening than usual.

  ‘We’ve been summoned,’ he told Lyn wryly, kissing her in greeting. ‘Timon wants us to dine with him.’

  Lyn frowned slightly. ‘What about Georgy? He’ll be in bed by then.’

  ‘One of the maids can babysit,’ answered Anatole, heading for the shower room. ‘Oh, and Lyn...’ His voice had changed. ‘I’m afraid Timon has gone ahead with hiring a nanny for us.’

  She stared after him in some consternation.

  Immediately he continued, ‘Please don’t be anxious—she will be based up at the villa, not here, and she will only be for our convenience. Nothing else. Such as for evenings like this.’

  Lyn bit her tongue. It wasn’t an outrageous thing for Timon to have done, but it was unsettling all the same. And she would have preferred to have had some say in just who the nanny would be. Timon’s ideas were likely to run to the kind of old-fashioned, starchy, uniformed nanny who liked to have sole charge of her infant and keep parents—adoptive or otherwise—well at bay.

  But she put her disquiet aside. She would deal with it after their wedding—which was approaching fast now that Timon was out of hospital. This time next week she and Anatole would be husband and wife. A little thrill went through her—a bubble of emotion that warmed her veins. But with it came, yet again, that sense of plucking at her heartstrings that always came when she let herself think beyond the present.

  This time next week we’ll be married—and this time next year we might be already divorced...

  She felt her heart squeeze, her throat constrict.

  Don’t think about this time next year—don’t think about anything but what you have now! Which is so much more than you ever dreamed possible!

  With a little shake she went to get ready herself for going up to the big house and dining in what she was pretty sure would be a much more formal style than she and Anatole adopted here in the little beach villa.

  And so it proved.

  Timon might still be an invalid, and in a wheelchair, but he commanded the head of the table in the huge, opulently appointed dining room as he must surely have done all his life. The meal was as opulent as the decor, with multiple courses and an array of staff hovering to place plates and refill glasses. Though she did her best, Lyn could not but help feeling if not intimidated, then definitely ill-at-ease. It didn’t help matters that Timon focused most of his conversational energies on Anatole, and that the main subject under discussion appeared to be a situation that was developing at one of the Petranakos factories in Thessaloniki, in the north of Greece.

  Anatole elaborated a little to her, in English, as the meal progressed. ‘The workers there are on short time already,’ he said to her, ‘and now the manager is issuing redundancies. It’s not proving popular, as you can imagine.’

  ‘Redundancies are unavoidable!’ snapped Timon, interjecting brusquely.

  Anatole turned back to him. ‘It’s been badly handled,’ he said bluntly. ‘Without any consultation, discussion or explanation. The manager there should be replaced.’

  ‘He’s my appointment,’ growled Timon.

  Anatole’s mouth set, but he said nothing.

  Timon’s dark eyes flashed as they rested on his grandson. ‘You’re not in charge of Petranakos yet!’ he exclaimed. ‘And I don’t have to put you in charge, I’ll have you remember—’

  He changed to Greek, speaking rapidly, with little emotion, and then broke off as a coughing fit overcame him. Lyn sat awkwardly, aware of the strong currents flowing between grandfather and grandson. Anatole looked tense, and she longed to smooth away his worries.

  She got her chance when they got back to the beach house finally. After checking on Georgy, thanking the maid who’d babysat and sending her off back to the big house, she went into the kitchen to make Anatole his customary late-night coffee. When she took it into the bedroom he was already in bed, sitting back against the pillows, his laptop open on his knees. He glanced at Lyn, gratefully taking the coffee.

  ‘I ought to be glad that Timon is—very clearly!—feeling better, but I have to say,’ he went on darkly, ‘it’s making him reluctant to relinquish his chairman’s role to me.’ He made a wry face. ‘The trouble is his management style is not suited to the current dire economic conditions. It’s out of touch, too authoritarian, and that’s far too inflammatory right now!’ He took a mouthful of coffee. ‘I need to get him to resign from chairing the executive board and put me in his place, so I can sort things out properly, in a more conciliatory fashion, without having all the employees up in arms! But Timon’s proving stubborn about it!’

  Lyn knelt beside him and started working at the knots in his shoulders.

  Anatole rolled his head appreciatively. He caught her hand. ‘I’m sorry this is erupting now,’ he told her, ‘so close to the wedding. But if things don’t calm down in Thessaloniki soon I may have to go there. And,’ he finished, his mouth tightening, ‘I am going to have to do whatever it takes to persuade Timon to hand over the reins of power to me irrevocably! Too much is at stake! He says he wants to wait until Georgy’s adoption is confirmed—but I can’t wait till then now that all this has flared up. If the workers in Thessaloniki come out on strike it will cost the company millions in the end! I have to stop it getting that far, and to do that I need to have free rein to take what action is necessary!’ He took a breath. ‘I’m going to tackle Timon tomorrow. Get him to agree to the handover finally!’

  He set down his coffee cup, turned off his laptop, and wrapped an arm around Lyn.

  ‘The next few days are going to be tough,’ he warned her apologetically. ‘It’s going to be a race against time to get everything sorted out before the wedding.’ He gave a heavy sigh. ‘I’ll have to be up early tomorrow, just to tell you in advance, and you won’t see much of me for the rest of the week, I’m afraid. It makes sense for me to stay in my apartment in Athens until the weekend. There’s even a chance that the situation in Thessaloniki will require me to fly up there myself now. I hope not, but I’d better warn you about the possibility all the same.’

  Lyn felt a little stab of dismay at the thought of being without Anatole, but knew she must not add to the heavy pressure on him already by showing it. Instead she put on a sympathetic smile and kissed his cheek.

  ‘Poor you,’ she said. ‘I hope it turns out all right.’

  ‘Me too,’ he agreed.

  His eyes started to close, and Lyn reached to put out the light. Tonight, sleep was clearly on the agenda.

  But in just over a week we’ll be on our honeymoon! she reminded herself.

 
That little thrill of emotion came again as she settled herself down, nestling against the already sleeping Anatole. She wrapped an arm around him, holding him close.

  Very close...

  * * *

  ‘Right, then, Georgy my lad—no use us sitting here moping!’ Lyn instructed her nephew and herself roundly as she carried him through into the bathroom to get dressed and ready for the day.

  She’d woken to discover that Anatole had, as he had warned her, taken himself off at the crack of dawn to get to his desk, and she had immediately felt her spirits flatten at the dispiriting prospect of his absence for several days to come. Sternly, she’d admonished herself for her craven wish that Anatole were not so diligent in the execution of his responsibilities towards Timon’s affairs. She had dramatic testimony that it was those very qualities that she had so much reason to be grateful for. It was, she knew, totally because Anatole had such a strong sense of responsibility that he had undertaken so drastic a course of action in safeguarding Georgy’s future.

  Marrying me! Bringing me here to live with him, with Georgy! Making a home for us here!

  Automatically she felt her cheeks glow. He’d done so much more than that!

  He’s transformed me—transformed my life! Given me a wondrous happiness that I never knew existed! In his arms I have found a bliss that takes my breath away!

  Her eyes lit with the light that was always in them when she thought of Anatole and how wonderful he was—how wonderful it was to be here with him.

  To think I once feared that he would take Georgy from me! To think that I wished he had never discovered his existence—never come into my life!

  Because it was impossible to think that now! Utterly impossible! With every passing day, every hour spent with him, her gratitude and her happiness increased beyond measure! He was doing everything to make her feel comfortable here in Greece, to make her feel at home...valued and cherished.

  His concern for her, his solicitude, his thoughtfulness, were all so precious to her!

  With deft swiftness she got Georgy ready, then followed suit for herself. It was another warm sunny day, and even if she wished that she could look forward to Anatole coming home, however late he might be, she would not let her spirits sink. She had another Greek lesson in the afternoon, and she was making steady progress in the language—both speaking and reading it. She thought ahead. In the evening she would busy herself reading some of the hefty history books about Greece that Anatole had provided her with in English. She was determined to be as informed as possible when she applied to the history studies course Anatole had suggested she take after the summer.