Page 69 of The Princess and the Paparazzi
“Tahini,” she says. And then she leads me on a virtual tour of the table. “We have some falafel and some pickles, some of my homemade hummus, egg salad, smoked fish, stuffed grape leaves, some eggplant, pita, and, of course, some yogurt.”
“Where did you get all this?” I ask.
“I made most of it from scratch,” she shrugs. “It’s nothing. I’m used to cooking for a hundred people.”
“May I taste it?” I point at the hummus. Naomi beams as she hands me a small spoon, waiting confidently for my reaction. “Wow. Oh, wow! This is incredible. This gives every other hummus I’ve ever eaten impostor syndrome,” I say.
I’ve had hummus before, but never like this, with such bright notes of lemon, herby parsley, and olive oil. There’s a tangy spice as well, sprinkled on top.
Naomi looks surprised. “Thank you, Lorelei. I thought you didn’t eat chick peas. Are you no longer bean intolerant?”
Bean intolerant? Is that even a thing?
“Apparently not,” I shrug. “What about that stuff?” I point at a block of something that looks like cheese. But not cheese. It’s marbled and a little crumbly.
“Oh, that’s the halvah from the market in Jerusalem. Close to the coffee bean shop. They grind their own sesame seeds to make the paste. My sister shipped some over.”
“Can I try it?”
“Of course.” Naomi cuts a small piece for me, and I pop the cube in my mouth. It reminds me of the filling of a Butterfinger bar, the way it is a little crunchy and crumbly and nutty. But it melts in my mouth more quickly.
“Yum!” I say. “I bet this stuff would go well with coffee.”
“It does,” she agrees, gesturing to the insulated carafe already on the table. “We’ll have some with our dessert. Why don’t we have a seat.”
“Are you sure I can’t do anything to help?” I hesitate before taking a seat.
“No, dear, you’re my guest, and I’m my son’s guest, and this house rental came with full-time staff, so we may as well both sit back and enjoy it, no?” Naomi pulls out a cushioned wicker chair for me, insisting I take a seat before she does. When she settles into her own chair, she pours herself a cup of coffee, sits back in her chair, and sighs, dramatically.
“I’m not used to doing nothing … it makes me nervous,” she says, sitting back up again to grab the honeypot. She scoops up some honey with a spoon and stirs it vigorously into the black coffee. “This was a good call. I think I might bring some of this local honey home with me.”
I want to tell her about the uncles. How I picture them in Greece, equally fidgety and trying to relax. Despite the photo that Uncle Nick sent of Uncle Stavros, I can’t picture the two of them lounging around for any significant length of time. Stavros probably popped up the minute after Nick took the photo and demanded to go check out the local markets. I have a feeling the uncles and Naomi would get along great.
“I have a hard time sitting still, too,” I commiserate.
“Do you?” she asks. “That’s new as well. I always admired your ability to sit and read for hours as a child. None of my own kids had that much focus. Especially Rafe. He’s never been one to sit still.”
I eye the door, wishing Rafe would hurry up and come back.
“That’s an interesting dress,” Naomi comments. “Is it silk?”
“I think so?” I glance down at my outfit, regretting my decision not to change back into shorts and a tee before coming over here. It seems like I’m always wildly over or underdressed around this woman.
“Have you ever heard of Disneybounding?” I ask.
“No.” She hands me the cup of coffee that she’s poured for me, along with another chunk of halvah. “Who says we can’t have a little dessert before lunch? I won’t tell if you don’t.” She winks as she pops a piece of the candy in her mouth. “Now tell me what Disneybounding is.”
“Well, it involves theming your outfit to different Disney characters.”
“Like a costume?”
“No, Disney doesn’t allow adults to wear costumes, except on special theme days. They don’t want any confusion with the official characters and employees,” I explain, parroting what Georgia told me earlier. “But a lot of people come up with outfits inspired by characters. A sort of homage.” I pull up a blog on my phone. “Here, let me show you.”
“Wow!” Naomi leans in and pulls a pair of glasses out of her pocket so she can take a closer look. “Do you think I could go as …” She pauses to think for a moment, then smiles as she comes to a decision. “The fairy godmother from Cinderella?”
“I don’t see why not,” I grin.
“Will you help me?” she asks.
