Page 2 of Love Among the Ruins
But now her heart was starting to heal.
Between her two jobs she stood a good chance of earning the money she needed. At the taverna it was easy being friendly and cheery towards most tourists. It was the ones with their Rolexes, pearls and diamonds the size of ice cubes, who made her stomach turn. Yet she forced herself to be nice around these people because they sometimes gave the best tips.
Not all of them. It had surprised her how stingy many of them could be, how many of them looked down at her as a waitress and others like her.
Tourists flocked to Spetses during the summer months. They loved the island’s little alleys, the cobbled streets and charming black and white pebble mosaics decorating the courtyards. They gushed over the sparkling white walls of the houses, set ablaze by bougainvillea, jasmine and hibiscus in splashes of red, baby blue, pink, mauve and orange. Pretty houses stood proudly along the seafront, between the Old Harbor and the Dapia. But these places held no allure for her anymore, and her desire to leave the island grew stronger. Though she couldn’t leave yet; the summer months were her best chance to make extra money.
She nudged Stefanos with her arm before leaning against him as she stared at the sea. He’d seen her in her most heart-wrenching moments. He’d been there for her when her eyes felt as if they’d been sandpapered because she’d cried so much.
“Eleni.” Stefanos’s arm went around her shoulder, warm and protective. She tilted her head, laid it against his shoulder. “Don’t ...” he cautioned. But she couldn’t drag her attention away from the water, or the yacht. Her eyes misted up. It came and went, just like that, out of the blue, when she least expected it.
Even now, all these months later, flashes of that fateful day returned, flooding her mind with painful memories. Her grief had turned to anger, and rage stewed inside her. She hated the wealthy tourists with their super yachts, their riches, their condescending gazes.
“Jonas wouldn’t want you to still be sad.”
“I’m okay.” She inhaled a big breath. Making the decision to climb the mountain, something Jonas had desperately wanted to do, had given her a new purpose. He’d said it was fine for beginners, and that they could do it together. He believed it would make them stand out when they started their water sports business.
Who wouldn’t want to know the business owners who’d climbed Kilimanjaro? Jonas saw it as a way of standing out. Only, his dream had died with him, but now Eleni sought to revive it. Instead of wallowing in sadness and grief, imagining a life of ‘what might have been,’ she was focused on this one goal.
It made her jump out of bed every morning and fly out of the door, past the mother who was too wrapped up in her own drama to care about Eleni. It enabled her to fake-smile and make trivial conversation with people she cared nothing for, in an attempt to earn good tips.
Stefanos jumped off the wall. “We should get back before my uncle comes looking for us.”
They returned to the bustling taverna to find tables filled with people. Laughter and chatter floated across the air along with the aroma of fresh coffee, the smoky, juicy scent of cooked meat and fresh bread.
“That was fast,” Eleni muttered, surveying the scene with trepidation. Lunchtimes this busy indicated a long, hard day would follow.
“He looks cute. Table in the corner.” Stefanos gripped her hand, the way he often did when he insta-crushed on someone.
Eleni cast a glance in that direction to find a man sitting alone surrounded by a paperwork and a briefcase lying on the chair next to him. He wore aviators with attitude, dark slacks, expensive looking loafers, and a watch.
There was always a watch. Big, bold and brash.
Eleni’s gaze traveled over his slim fit, short sleeved, cotton polo shirt. It was white with a thin blue stripe running across his shoulders; not that he needed to draw any more attention to them. Wide and thick, they hinted at more than his masculinity. They promised protection. Comfort. Strength.
She shook her head; certain she was coming down with something. But her gaze went back to the man whose short shirt sleeves strained slightly under biceps that teased her attention. Her eyes dropped lower, and she was in danger of drooling over his forearms: lean, veined, muscular and, for as long as he didn’t notice her, hers to ogle freely.
One quick laser glance and she’d figured him out. Not because she was a fashionista. She wasn’t, didn’t care much for such things, but because Stefanos was a fashion whore who admired a well-dressed man as much as any hot-blooded woman.
The man’s attire alone probably cost more than she earned in a year.
“I don’t think anyone’s seen to him yet.” Stefanos’ voice turned squeaky high with uncontained excitement.
“He’s all yours.” Eleni rushed to the kitchen and whipped on her half-apron, as did Stefanos. She tied the apron around her waist, before pulling out a notepad and pencil from one of the deep pockets. Then she got ready to tackle the customers.
Stefanos turned to her. “You can have him. You need the money more than I do.” He veered off in the opposite direction before she had a chance to tell him that she didn’t want this particular customer, but he’d left her with no choice.
She approached the man’s table and saw him looking through notes and scribbling things down.
“Hello,” she attempted a breezy greeting. Aviator sunglasses hid his expression, not that he was looking at her. She cleared her throat hoping to get his attention. “What can I get you?”
He looked up slowly. “You are open, then?”
An American.
She gave a small laugh, not understanding his comment. She even forced a smile. “Yes, sir. We open from—”
“I’ve been waiting for hours for someone to serve me.” His voice was crisp and sharp, and he looked at his watch as if confirming how long he had waited.
