Santorini Sunsets (29 page)

She gathered her skirt and slipped off her sandals. She ran along the sand and called Robbie's name.

“What are you doing here?” He turned around.

Daisy suddenly thought, what if she was wrong and he only liked her as a friend? Then she remembered Nathaniel saying Robbie was in love with her and took a deep breath.

“You asked me to go to Mykonos and Crete and I said no because I have to go back to New York,” she began. “I'm twenty-six and I've never done anything except bake banana cream pies. If I don't meet with buyers, I'll never get my designs in department stores.

“But then Nathaniel said you were falling in love with me, so I was going to tell you I'd love to go.” She paused. “On the yacht to Therasia I met a gorgeous woman with a British accent. She said she knew you years ago and you'd invited her to Mykonos and Crete.” Daisy's eyes were huge. “I didn't want to be around you if you were seeing another woman.”

“Geraldine is married to my cousin.” Robbie grinned. “Scott asked me to take her. He was afraid she'd fly to Paris and buy up Chanel and Dior.”

“She just introduced herself.” Daisy sighed. “She told me the whole story.”

“Does this mean…” he asked.

“I'd love to go to Mykonos and Crete.” She nodded. “How could I leave Greece now? I'm just getting used to riding donkeys.”

Robbie drew her close and kissed her softly on the lips. Daisy tasted honey and vanilla and kissed him harder.

“We live in different countries and you're always traveling taking photographs.” She pulled away. “Maybe this is silly, we should just be friends.”

“I've seen tsunamis wipe out villages and people lose everything in a minute. When you're on a Greek island and you meet a girl with auburn hair and brown eyes you don't let her get away.” He took her hand. “We'll figure it out.”

Daisy gazed at the sky full of stars and the moon glinting on the ocean and her shoulders relaxed.

“In that case, we should go back and have dessert.” She smiled. “I saw a crème brûlée that looked delicious.”

*   *   *

Sydney gazed around the taverna and thought everything had been perfect. The grilled trout melted in your mouth and the eggplant moussaka was light and fluffy.

She saw Brigit standing with Blake and smiled. They really were a lovely couple. Blake was charming and sophisticated and Brigit was elegant and glowing.

Whatever had happened with Blake it seemed they were sorting things out. She was so relieved. It was difficult to find someone who made you happy; once you did it was important to make it work.

She glanced at Daisy talking to Robbie and her heart lifted. Wouldn't it be wonderful if Daisy fell in love? She had so much to offer.

“I just saw Harley.” Francis approached her. “He asked if we were going to take the villa in Provence.”

“Do you remember when your parents offered us their estate in Bermuda for our honeymoon? It was right on Elbow Beach with a personal chef and swimming pool,” Sydney said. “We considered going until we discovered they were staying there the same week.” She paused. “It might not be the best time to vacation with Blake and Brigit. Newlyweds need time to find their own footing.”

“Daisy could join us,” Francis suggested.

“Daisy is serious about her designs, and she wants to get back to Manhattan.” She pointed to Robbie and Daisy. “And it seems she's found her own distractions.”

“We could go by ourselves, it would be a pity for it to go to waste.”

“Provence is quite humid in June, it even rained while I was there.” She hesitated. “Why don't we try somewhere new?”

“Where?” he asked.

“I've never been to Switzerland.” Her eyes sparkled. “We could go to Montreux and listen to jazz and boat on the lake.”

“There is a banker I'd like to see in Geneva,” he mused. “And the Alps are glorious in the summer.”

“I remember reading about the Montreux Palace when I was a girl.” Sydney clapped her hands. “It was built in 1906 and the guests were Venetian counts and maharajas and Russian princes.”

“I'll make the reservation.” He beamed. “I can't think of anything I'd rather do than drink German beer and nibble Swiss chocolates.”

“There's something I'd rather do.” Sydney laughed.

Francis put his hand on the small of her back and whispered, “I promise we'll do that too.”

 

Chapter Twenty-two

B
RIGIT SAT AT AN OUTDOOR
café in Fira and stirred honey into a porcelain cup. It was almost midnight and the square was filled with people laughing and drinking shots of ouzo. She saw couples dancing and thought no wonder Europeans drank espresso at night. They couldn't eat dinner at ten p.m. and dance all night without endless cups of black coffee.

Blake had taken some guests on a night cruise after the rehearsal dinner and had begged her to come. But she had to stop by the villa and then take a taxi to the Hotel Katikies. He offered to skip the cruise and join her, but she said she'd be fine.

Now the euphoria of the rehearsal dinner wore off and she wished she'd taken him up on his offer. She thought of the article in the
Los Angeles Times
and his donations to the foundation and tried to stop the queasy feeling in her stomach.

She looked up and saw a man wearing a white dinner jacket and beige slacks. His silver camera was slung over his shoulder and he carried a brown paper sack.

“Robbie!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I took Daisy home and stopped at the newsagent for a packet of Maltesers.” He offered her one. “Whenever I can't sleep, I crave English candy.”

“You took Daisy home?” She raised her eyebrow.

“We had a terrible misunderstanding,” Robbie explained. “I asked her to go to Mykonos and Crete and she said no because she had to return to New York. She later discovered I was taking someone else and thought I was involved with another woman. Geraldine is my cousin's wife, we're just friends.” He paused. “Tonight we sorted everything out.”

“I'm glad.” Brigit sipped her tea. “Daisy deserves to be happy.”

“Your sister is beautiful and talented, she just has to believe in herself,” Robbie continued. “Her designs are going to be a huge success.”

“Do you think so?” Brigit asked.

“I'm sure of it.” He grinned. “Geraldine spends more time at Stella McCartney's studio than in her own flat. She thought the sketches were fabulous.”

“That's wonderful.” Brigit smiled. “Sometimes it's hard to know where we belong.”

“I wanted to thank Nathaniel. He told Daisy I was falling in love with her and she should give me another chance,” he said. “But he left the rehearsal dinner early and disappeared.”

“Nathaniel disappeared?” Brigit looked up.

“He took a bottle of whiskey and walked out.” He shrugged. “I checked our hostel but he wasn't there.”

“I'm sure he got what he needed for
HELLO!
” She fiddled with her diamond ring. “He's probably writing the article in a café.”

“I'm going to the village of Pyrgos to take some photos.” Robbie popped a Maltesers in his mouth. “The windmills are spectacular at night.”

Brigit finished her tea and wondered where Nathaniel had gone. It was fine for him to drink a couple of glasses of champagne but whiskey made him crazy. She opened her purse and thought Nathaniel wasn't her problem. She had to make sure her wedding dress was pressed and Blake's boutonniere didn't wilt.

She took out a five-euro note and saw a crumpled piece of paper. She realized it was Nathaniel's toast and read out loud:

For any of you who don't know me, I'm Nathaniel Cabot.

You might wonder what the bride's ex-husband is doing at Blake and Brigit's wedding. But when you receive an invitation to the wedding of the year, you don't turn it down.

I've known Brigit since we were five years old and I climbed under the fence and crashed her dolls' tea party. She taught me many things: how to tie my shoelaces and tell time and read Hemingway without judging the author as a person.

One of the most important things she taught me is to be honest in a relationship. And to be perfectly honest, I wasn't good enough for Brigit.

Blake is all the things Brigit deserves: he's intelligent and hardworking and has high ideals. And we can all agree; no one looks better in a Hugo Boss tuxedo.

I couldn't be happier that Brigit ended up where she belongs, on a Greek island about to marry the man she loves.

After tomorrow we will go back to our lives and I will try to remember everything Brigit taught me. When you are lucky enough to have someone instruct you on the etiquette of eating grapefruit with the correct spoon, you want to live up to her expectations.

*   *   *

Brigit crumpled the paper in her hand and her heart raced. What if Nathaniel did something silly?

She remembered when he got the terrible review in the
New York Times
and drank half a bottle of whiskey. He threatened to toss his laptop out the window because he had been foolish enough to think he had written something important. He was no better than the kids at Dartmouth who believed they deserved millions of dollars because they developed an app to sort laundry.

She pictured Robbie saying Daisy was so talented and flinched. Maybe it was her fault Nathaniel didn't finish his novel.

All he had needed was someone to say he was going to be a success and then leave him alone. She should have come home from the law firm each day and suggest they jog in Central Park or drink cappuccinos at Joe Coffee instead of asking how many pages he'd written.

She placed five euros on the table and gathered her purse. She would leave a note in his hostel saying he was too talented to waste his time writing for trashy magazines. Surely his parents would give him a loan to complete his novel.

She turned into a narrow alley and climbed the stone steps to the hostel. She knocked on the door and waited. She knocked again and opened the door.

The room had a narrow bed and wooden desk and white plaster walls. Nathaniel's backpack hung on a chair and a selection of paperback books rested on the bedside table. She glanced at the worn covers and thought Nathaniel was the only person she knew who traveled with James Joyce's
Finnegans Wake
instead of the latest Grisham thriller.

She searched the desk for a pen and noticed a thick stack of papers. She glanced at CHAPTER ONE written on the first page and started. Nathaniel had never mentioned he was writing a new novel.

She remembered the first year of their marriage when Nathaniel was so excited about his writing. He finished the first chapter of his novel and insisted he print it out. It was the middle of the night and their printer wasn't working and the closest Kinko's was on East Seventy-Second Street. Brigit mumbled she'd print it at the law firm in the morning but Nathaniel insisted he needed it right now.

He collected dollar bills from the kitchen counter and ran out the door. He returned an hour later with twenty pages and a bag of David's Bagels. He turned on the bedroom light and propped up the pillows and read her every word.

She pictured the months before he left when Nathaniel slept on the sofa in the living room. She remembered being late for work because she couldn't leave without clearing up packets of potato chips and empty scotch glasses. She remembered returning home in the evening to find Nathaniel staring at a blank computer screen.

Now she flipped through the stack of papers and suddenly froze. The last page was numbered three hundred and said THE END. She glanced at the door and thought the last thing she wanted was for Nathaniel to discover her at his hostel. But she had to know what he had written. She pulled out a chair and turned the page. She read four chapters and her face lit up in a smile. The characters were beautifully drawn and the prose was exquisite and the plot was riveting.

Nathaniel didn't need her at all. He had written a complete novel on his own. She breathed a small sigh of relief, as if an additional weight was lifted from her shoulders.

She hurried down the stairs and walked through the square. It was past midnight and a few couples lingered on the cobblestones. She climbed the narrow path to the villa and opened the gate. Suddenly her feet ached and her head throbbed and all she wanted to do was to climb into the canopied bed.

She entered the living room and slipped off her sandals. If only she hadn't taken the time to read Nathaniel's novel. Now she was too exhausted to gather her things and hire a taxi to Oia.

She walked up the circular staircase and opened the bedroom door. She could call Blake and say she would drive to the Hotel Katikies in the morning, but he had rented out the whole hotel just for her.

The thought of sitting in a bumpy taxi and navigating the mountain road to Oia made her feel as if she was getting a fever. Finally she dialed his number and left a message saying she was sorry, she had a terrible headache and was going to bed. She would take a taxi to the hotel first thing in the morning and they would eat fresh melon and scrambled eggs and go for an early swim.

She gazed out the window and took a deep breath. The moon shimmered on the dark ocean and the air smelled like hibiscus. She unzipped her Prada dress and suddenly felt a shiver of excitement. Tomorrow she would be a married woman.

 

Chapter Twenty-three

B
RIGIT STOOD ON THE BALCONY
of her bedroom and gazed at the whitewashed houses and beds of purple bougainvillea. It was midmorning and the sea was a sheet of glass. She saw silver cruise ships in the harbor and donkeys lumbering up the path and thought how much she'd miss Santorini.

She walked inside and glanced at her Oscar de la Renta dress laid out on the floral bedspread. It had an ivory bodice and pleated skirt and pink satin bow.