“I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.”
“Don’t worry about me, Pops.”
“Your boss is on the ship with someone named Sammie,” he said. “They’ve been by twice demanding to know about the Audrey Hepburn gowns.”
My stomach lurched. “What’d you tell them?”
“I told them I didn’t know what they were talking about and let them search your closet,” he said. “But they didn’t believe me. How dare they question my veracity! My word is all I have in this life.”
“Well, you are lying,” I said.
“Yes, but they don’t know that.”
“Do me a favor?” I asked. “Tell Tanya I was supposed to give the speech on Coco Chanel tomorrow, but I missed the boat. Tell her Sammie should take my place.”
“I don’t think your boss is in the mood to help you out,” Pops said. “She was loaded for bear.”
“It’s not for me,” I said. “Explain that I’ve befriended some big potential donors on the trip. If we don’t do the speech, it’ll reflect badly on the museum. Give her my laptop. All my presentations are on it.”
“You’d better find the dresses,” Pops said. “Losing those will really reflect badly on the museum.”
If I Had You
DENIS TOOK MY HAND and led me down a cobble road. We stopped at a general store, and picked up some aloe vera gel to soothe our sunburns, then made our way to a table at a small café overlooking the emerald bay.
I took a deep breath, surrendering to the pleasure of the jasmine-and oleander-scented air and cool sea breeze on my face. As the sun fell, the sky lit up a bank of pink and golden clouds on the horizon. A yacht floated beneath us on the glasslike surface of the water. On the bow, a trim blond woman wearing a blue bikini stood and sang “Vissi d’arte,” an aria from Puccini’s Tosca, her rich voice reverberating throughout the bay. The American man at the table next to ours said that the soprano was Julie Nelson, one of the leads from the Metropolitan Opera. I don’t know how he knew, but judging by her magnificent sound, I believed him. When the song ended, the audience that had gathered to watch from the Santorini cliffs clapped wildly, their applause and “bravas” falling like raindrops from the sky. I have never seen anything like it and probably never will again.
Denis ordered espresso and I had cappuccino and fruit. For most people, missing their ship would be a huge upset, but I wanted to dance like a Whirling Dervish over it. That gave me thirty-six hours more to look for the missing dresses, and time alone with Denis, whom I was growing fonder of by the minute.
“May I ask you a personal question?” I started.
“I’ve been hoping you would.”
“Why are you with Sydney? I know why your mother wants you to marry her, but why do you?”
He started to speak.
“No, I’m sorry,” I said, holding up my hands. “It’s brazen of me to ask. I’m sure she has many lovely qualities.”
“It’s hard to explain…” he began.
“It’s just, she’s so much younger than you, and she’s…”
“What? She’s what?”
A thumping bore, I thought. Then I realized I had said that out loud. “Oh, my gosh,” I said, slapping my hand to my mouth. “I’m sorry. Forgive me. This is none of my business.”
“This marriage means everything to my mother,” he said, “and when you’re born into a family like mine, there are certain obligations…”
“Yes, but you have to sleep with her. Your mother doesn’t.”
Denis grew thoughtful for a moment. “By marrying Sydney, my mother will be happy and I’m glad, but I’m not doing it for her. This is my choice. With my first wife, I followed my heart. That turned into a bloody mess. This time, I’m following my head,” he said, tapping his temple. “Syd’s clever, beautiful, accomplished. She works in Manhattan real estate, like me. She knows that my first love will always be the business. Marrying her makes perfect sense.”
“I used to tell myself that marrying Alessandro made sense.”
“At least we aren’t going into it with stars in our eyes.”
I put my hand over Denis’. “Call me a dreamer, but next time I fall in love, I don’t just want stars, I want ‘The Star-Spangled Banner.’ Sydney’s not going to make you happy, Denis. You deserve someone who will adore you and Annie.”
Denis took a sip of his espresso and gazed out on the harbor. Instead of saying, “Would that someone be you?” as I expected after those sweet kisses we’d shared, he changed the subject. “Santorini’s the most beautiful island in Greece, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. It’s the only one I’ve ever seen.” I used my fingers to pick up a strawberry, and slowly bit into its deliciously sweet and tart flesh. “Mmmm,” I murmured, using my tongue to lick the pink juice that dribbled down my chin.
Denis cleared his throat. “This harbor was formed about thirty-five hundred years ago when the volcano blew out the island’s center,” he said. “Some people think that was the incident that gave rise to the myth of the lost continent of Atlantis.”
“So under the water, there might be the remains of an ancient civilization?” I said.
“Could be.”
“Cool beans,” I said, offering him a cube of watermelon.
Denis smiled at me. “You should see your face right now.”
“What’s the matter with it?” I asked, worried I must look like a ripe tomato after that nap in the sun.
“It’s lovely,” he said. “Here, give me the camera. May I take a picture of you.”
“Oh, sure.” I handed it over and smiled alluringly.
He fiddled with the buttons until he brought up the picture of John and me.
“Hey,” I said, grabbing for it.
Denis held his arm too high for me to reach it. Then he showed me the photo. “It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the woman I picked up in the rain a few weeks ago.”
“Guilty,” I
