Page 38 of Footprints in the Sand
Eva met the American girls—Valerie, Winona, and Alyssa—later that afternoon when Jean-Paul was at the marble workshop. Dressed immaculately in crop tops and cute skirts, they meandered through the marble warehouse, checking out jewelry and buying whatever they fancied. It was clear they came from money, money that Eva couldn’t fathom from her bottom-of-the-barrel social media career. They were maybe in their mid-twenties, slightly younger than Eva and with nothing to lose. When they approached Eva’s table, they spotted Jean-Paul’s photograph first and cried, “Oh my gosh, he’s so cute.”
It was true that Jean-Paul’s attractiveness was often a reason for people to buy his marble sculptures. He was really talented, that was clear. But his handsomeness was the cherry on top.
“These are cool,” Alyssa, the girl with long hoop earrings, said, checking out a big bowl.
“Can you ship them back to the States?” Winona asked Eva.
“We can,” Eva assured her. “There’s a fee, depending on where, but we can arrange everything.”
“Oh my god! You’re American,” Valerie cried. “Girls, she’s American!”
“What are you doing here?” Winona asked Eva, as though she were the most fascinating woman in the world. “Are you half Greek or something?”
Eva laughed. “No. I’m working for Jean-Paul. Social media. But it’s only part-time, till I have to go back to the States.”
“Ugh, you should try to stay here!” Alyssa said. “It’s so dreamy.”
“We’re from LA and we’re so over it,” Winona said.
Eva laughed. She’d never been to LA, but under the glow of these women’s gazes, she felt special and charmed. For a little while, she talked about her experiences on Paros, about how she’d discovered Jean-Paul’s marble workshop, about how much of a master at his craft he really was.
“Oh, you’re in love with him,” Alyssa said knowingly. “Girls, isn’t she?”
Winona and Valerie nodded sagely, and Eva blushed.
“I’m not. I just got out of a really long relationship,” Eva said. “Like eight years. I thought we were going to get married.”
“Oh no,” Valerie said in a small voice.
“We get that,” Alyssa said. “It’s why I don’t want to get married. It’s too much pressure.”
They nodded again. Eva wasn’t sure what to say.
Eventually, the girls bought more than eight hundred euros’ worth of marble sculptures and other wares, a whopping amount that clued Eva even more into their wealth. Eva put everything aside, marking it to ensure that it was mailed safely to the correct location on the West Coast. As she worked, Alyssa, Valerie, and Winona muttered to one another conspiratoriallyand then pulled their heads up to ask her, “When are you going back to Paros?”
“We’re staying here for two nights,” Eva said.
“You should come hang out with us at our villa!” Valerie declared. “It’s a fifteen-minute drive from here and so gorgeous. We even have an extra bedroom if you and your man want to stay with us.”
Eva’s cheeks were enflamed again. “He’s not my man,” she said, feeling silly.
“Well, invite him or don’t invite him,” Alyssa said, waving her hand. “We want you to come over and hang out. We want to hear more about your wild life in Greece!”
“Please,” Winona said. “If not tonight, then tomorrow?”
Eventually, Eva exchanged numbers with them and promised she’d see what she could do, if she could slip away. Privately, she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to. She was here in Naxos to spend time with Jean-Paul, to help him with his career, and to explore an island she’d never been to before. Just from the ferry, she’d been amazed at how different Naxos seemed, bigger and wilder and more jagged, and it made her ache with curiosity about what else these islands had to offer.
But when Jean-Paul returned from his workshop, he had news. “My class was so popular that they want me to teach another one tonight!” He was smiling ear to ear, pleased with himself in the way he always was after teaching people how to carve marble.
For a moment, Eva was caught up in his joy, before realizing that it put a damper on what she’d sort of thought tonight would be: dinner with Jean-Paul, strolling the streets of Naxos, and maybe a glass of wine after sunset.
She’d sort of wanted a romantic expedition. But it was a work trip, through and through, and she had to remember that.
Jean-Paul said the workshop would run from seven to ten and that he’d be exhausted afterward. “I’ll head to the hotel to sleep when it’s over.”
“I met some American girls who invited me to their place tonight,” Eva said, surprising herself. “It’s just up the road.”
Jean-Paul nodded. “Very good. You have worked too hard today. You need a bit of relief.” He raised his hand, and Eva high-fived it, feeling like a little girl.
