Page 14 of My Stepbrother's Wedding
We walked inside and talked to a young woman at the front desk who spoke enough English for us to communicate. Elizabeth inquired about Will, but the receptionist had never heard of him. Dad asked about rooms, and the woman explained they only had one suite available. When she told us the price, my mouth fell open. Dad pulled his belt to his armpits and turned toward the door, but the desperate glaze in his eyes admitted what we all knew—we had nowhere to go. After a solemn moment, he groaned and pulled out his credit card.
“Will you take this?” Dad asked, more than a hint of resentment in his tone.
The receptionist’s eyes twinkled greedily. “Yes, very good.”
A bellboy escorted us to our room. Dad groaned as he volunteered another bill to tip him. The suite was fine, but for the train robbery price, you’d have thought it fell fromheaven. Still, it was nice to pull the wad of cash out of my bra and take a desperately needed shower. Dad and Elizabeth collapsed on the bed while I cleaned up. I changed into new clothes and sat on the balcony, tired but unable to relax. I’d have enjoyed the mountainous lake view if we weren’t lost in a foreign country. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed. How were we going to get out of this? I had no idea. Not even my daydreams of escaping to Croatia were any comfort.
A few minutes later, Dad came onto the balcony.
“Hey,” he said, drawing me from my sulk. “We’re going to walk into town and look for Will. Maybe get some food. You coming?”
He’d changed clothes and even put on a new fanny pack. I could see exhaustion on his face, but I doubted either of us could rest. Behind him in the room, Elizabeth wiped away tears while trying to put on makeup. Her red hair was in a bun, and dark bags hung under her eyes. I realized at that moment that I needed both of them. Even if Elizabeth would never replace Mom, we were in this together.
I nodded wearily.
“Great, let’s get going.”
A few minutes later, we followed the crowds along the lakeside toward the town center. The evening sun cast anorange reflection over the gentle waves. Hundreds of tourists marched past us, most of them families or young couples, all speaking languages we couldn’t even recognize. An endless line of coffeehouses, restaurants, and souvenir stands flanked the boardwalk. A pack of boat drivers shouted to us in broken English, trying to sell trips on the water. We ignored them and followed the throng.
The boardwalk led to a wide cobblestone square occupied by monuments of Orthodox saints, a sweet-smelling flower garden, and a playground full of laughing children. An ancient castle sat atop a hill overlooking the square, and the white stone houses on the hillside gave the town a charming, old-world feel, like something from a travel book. Achris was stunning.
But I hated being there.
“We need to get local money,” Dad said.
I pointed to a bank on the far end of the square, nestled between a toy store and a dessert shop. We walked over and looked at the exchange rates posted on the electronic sign in the window. Dad made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a painful whelp.
“Let’s see if we can find better rates,” he said.
We turned down a cobblestone path and spotted a shop with a sign that readMoney Exchange. Dad looked at me as if he wanted my opinion on the place. I shrugged. We entered the doorway into a room filled with expensive artwork and Italian furniture. A man with an uncanny resemblance to Marlon Brando sat in an armchair behind an enormous mahogany desk. I could almost hear the theme music fromThe Godfatheras I looked at him smoking a cigar and eyeing us curiously.
Dad stepped forward, wiping sweat from his bald spot. “We need to exchange dollars.”
The man tapped his cigar into an ashtray and gave us a probing stare. “American dollars?”
“Yes.”
The man nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off Dad. “Let me see what you’ve got.”
Dad laid a pile of bills on the counter.
The man curled his lips appreciatively and pulled a massive cash clip from his pocket. “I’ll give you the best offer in town.” He counted a stack of foreign banknotes and handed them to Dad.
Dad took the cash and shoved it into his fanny pack.
“Do you need anything else?”
“Have you seen any other Americans?” Elizabeth asked. “I’m looking for my son, Will.”
“I’ve not, but I like to see strong families. Family is the most important thing, isn’t it? I’ll keep an eye out.”
She frowned and nodded. “Thank you, sir.”
“Please, call me Uncle Vito.”
“Vito?” I blurted. “Like from the gangster movies?”
Vito fixed his eyes on me with an unreadable expression. “Are you saying I remind you of a criminal or a movie star?”
