Santorini Sunsets

by Anita Hughes

  Brigit had hesitated when Blake suggested holding the welcome dinner in the ruins of Kasteli Castle. The castle was in Pyrgos on the highest point of the island. Their guests had had a full day with the picnic at Kamari Beach and the private tour of Akrotiri. Would the women really want to hike up a gravel path in four-inch stilettos?

  Now Brigit gazed at the sky turning orange and purple and the sea like a blue velvet cloak and was glad she’d agreed. They were so high up it was like being on a magic carpet in a Disney movie.

  Brigit patted her hair and smoothed her turquoise Givenchy gown. She had felt silly fastening a sapphire pendant around her neck and diamond earrings in her ears. They were going to eat lamb skewers and fava beans in a six-hundred-year-old ruin. The dress code should be sweaters and slacks and comfortable shoes.

  But now she inhaled the scent of French perfume and expensive cologne and was glad Blake had insisted on black tie. She felt like a princess and it was going to be an unforgettable night.

  “I’d say you were the most beautiful bride in the world but your mother might get upset.” Her father approached her.

  He wore a black silk tuxedo and white tie. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back and he wore gold cuff links. “She really was the most beautiful bride I’d ever seen. I stood at the altar of St. John the Divine’s and thought I was the luckiest guy in New York.”

  “She did pretty well herself.” Brigit grinned. “A Harvard graduate with a family stockbroking firm on Wall Street.”

  “But your mother is Old New York,” Francis mused. “Her great-great-grandmother was friends with Edith Wharton and Henry James. Edna used to roll up Fifth Avenue in a horse-drawn carriage.”

  “I can’t believe how many people flew in from Manhattan.” Brigit nibbled a tomato keftedes. “It looks like the roof deck of the Plaza. I’m glad you invited your old friends.”

  “I didn’t invite anyone.” Francis shook his head. “You and Blake took care of the guest list.”

  “Blake has never met the Forbeses or the Eisenhowers.” Brigit frowned. “Why would he invite them to our wedding?”

  “Excuse me, darling.” Francis touched her hand. “I see the consul of Tunisia, I’ve been trying to obtain a visa for months.”

  Brigit accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and saw a familiar figure wearing a black dinner jacket and white bow tie. She swallowed her champagne and ducked behind a stone outcrop.

  “I’d say you were avoiding me but that’s not the Brigit I know,” Nathaniel said. “Do you remember you asked for Emily Post’s book of etiquette for your sixteenth birthday? You said you were lucky to be born into a society where people use a different fork for every course and you didn’t want to get it wrong.”

  “The rules of etiquette are like brushing your hair or your teeth,” Brigit replied. “If everyone follows them, life is more civilized.”

  He gazed at the pastel-colored love seats littering the lawn and the lights twinkling in the olive trees and smiled. “You’ve done a wonderful job, it looks like a scene from Sabrina.”

  “It does look lovely,” Brigit agreed. “And everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.”

  “I didn’t know you invited so many New Yorkers, it’s like standing at the bar of the Colony Club.”

  “Blake created the guest list.” Brigit suddenly felt queasy, as if the champagne formed a pit in her stomach. “I only invited a few school friends and sorority sisters from Dartmouth.”

  “I didn’t know Blake was friends with the deputy mayor and the CFO of Payne Whitney,” Nathaniel mused. “I would have thought his pals were more like characters in an Entourage episode.”

  “Blake is one of the most successful movie stars in the world.” Brigit’s eyes flashed. “I’m sure he has friends who are artists and bankers and politicians. Now if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to grab a plate of delicious lamb giovesti and eggplant moussaka.”

  “I did some background research on Blake for HELLO!” Nathaniel followed her across the courtyard. “He grew up in Sandusky, Ohio and his father owned an outdoor furniture store. He dropped out of Ohio State and hitched a ride to Los Angeles with two hairdressers driving a yellow Buick.”

  “He didn’t drop out, he took a semester off to try his luck in Hollywood.” Brigit turned around. “And he didn’t hitchhike, he caught a Greyhound bus. He’d dreamed of being an actor ever since he saw Robert Redford in All the President’s Men and didn’t want to miss his chance.”

  “Whichever version you want to believe.” Nathaniel filled a plate with round cherry tomatoes and stuffed grape leaves. He popped a tomato into his mouth and looked at Brigit.

  “Do you ever worry you’re making a mistake?” he asked. “You’ve only known each other six months and you come from different worlds. While you were studying advanced Latin and volunteering at the Frick, Blake was learning first-year Spanish and selling lawn chairs to Midwesterners in seersucker suits.”

  “I’ve never been more certain about anything.” Brigit fiddled with her champagne flute. “Blake knows exactly what he wants and he’s not afraid to work for it. Not all of his movies are sequels to The Hunt for Red October; he’s starring in Scorsese’s remake of Metamorphosis. And we’re going to bring computers to villages in Laos and Kenya. In ten years children in Asia and Africa will be able to consider a career in programming.”

  “You always were sure of yourself.” Nathaniel ate pork rolled in filo pastry. “Do you remember when you read your first Nancy Drew book and came racing down to the boathouse? You said you’d finished the best book in the world and I had to read it.

  “I replied I didn’t want to read about a teenage female detective. You pushed the book into my hand and said you weren’t interested in Nancy Drew, it was her father, the attorney, who was inspiring.”

  “You spent the whole summer flipping through Mad magazines,” Brigit murmured. “I was trying to improve your reading.”

  “I’ve only been certain of two things in my life.” Nathaniel stuffed his hands in his pockets. “That all I wanted was to marry you. And that I had to leave.”

  “I see Henry Astor.” Brigit’s cheeks flushed and she turned away. “I have to go say hello.”

  * * *

  Brigit gazed at the sideboard set with platters of fried zucchini and tomato balls. There were plates of Santorini cucumbers and sausage dressed in olive oil. She ate a bite of grilled octopus and her stomach clenched.

  Why had Blake added to the guest list without consulting her? She saw him across the courtyard. He looked incredibly handsome in a black silk tuxedo and shiny Ferragamo loafers. Of course everyone wanted to come to their wedding; he was one of the most famous movie stars in the world.

  She poured another glass of champagne and thought she wasn’t going to let Nathaniel spoil her evening. He was like a splinter that got stuck under your skin.

  “How can the most beautiful woman in Greece be standing by herself?” Blake crossed the courtyard.

  “I was admiring the buffet,” Brigit murmured. “The caterers did a wonderful job.”

  “Wait until you see the desserts.” Blake grinned. “The chef prepared baklava and chocolate soufflé with vanilla ice cream.”

  “I thought we’d completed the guest list together,” she began. “I haven’t seen the Rothschilds since my kindergarten graduation and the only time I met the Winthrops was at a debutante ball at the Waldorf.” She stopped and looked at Blake. “Why did you invite them to our wedding?”

  “I gave my assistant a few more names last week.” Blake shrugged.

  “They’re lovely people but we wanted the wedding to be intimate.” Brigit hesitated. “Just our family and closest friends gathered on a magical Greek island.”

  “Do you really want to know why I invited them?” Blake asked.

  He drained his glass and ran his hand through his hair. “The press have been saying for years that I’m a confirmed bachelor and I’ll never make it to the alta
r. They print stories about me proposing to a model I met in line at Starbuck’s. Every month People says I jilted some young actress or broke my high school girlfriend’s heart.

  “I never minded because it was part of the business. But then I met you and I couldn’t believe my luck. You’re bright and beautiful and I want the whole world to know we’re getting married.

  “We’re going to spend a lot of time in New York and I didn’t want the CEO of Sotheby’s or the curator of the Guggenheim to think we’re another Hollywood couple who shucks oysters with Calvin Klein in Southampton.” He took her hand. “I thought if they were sitting in the church of Panagia Episkopi and saw us recite our vows they would know the truth. That I’m crazy in love with you and I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you happy.”

  Brigit gazed at the glass bar lined with brightly colored bottles and felt almost dizzy. She reached up and kissed Blake softly on the mouth.

  He kissed her back and she tasted lemon and honey. She felt his hand on the small of her back and wanted to race down the narrow path to the villa. She wanted to unsnap her sapphire pendant and slip off her gown and lie on the canopy bed. She wanted to feel his chest on her breasts and the cotton sheets tangled between their legs.

  “I can’t wait to do it all again on our twentieth anniversary,” Blake whispered. “It will be on a private island in the Bahamas. Our children will give a toast saying their dad may embarrass them at school dances and make the worst blueberry pancakes, but he did one thing right. He gave them the best mother they could imagine.”

  * * *

  Brigit ate a bite of lemon cheesecake and gazed at the black sky and silver stars and dark ocean. The desserts were delicious and the aged cognac was superb and it had been a wonderful night.

  But now her feet ached and she longed to go back to the villa and climb into bed. She glanced at guests nibbling honey baklava and thought it wouldn’t be polite if she were the first person to climb into a taxi.

  She strolled through the courtyard and saw a familiar figure leaning against a stone wall. Nathaniel’s bow tie was loosened and he clutched a shot glass.

  “I thought you stopped drinking.” She gazed at the amber liquid. “And you should never drink whiskey. It always made you crazy.”

  “That was when I was nineteen and a freshman at Dartmouth.” Nathaniel looked up. “A senior dared me to streak across the quad during Winter Carnival. I had to drink the whiskey for courage.”

  “You could have said no,” Brigit murmured.

  “I was trying to impress you,” Nathaniel explained. “He was a coxswain on the crew team and spent the whole night showing you his muscles.”

  “You looked ridiculous running through the fountain naked.”

  “It was minus ten degrees,” Nathaniel retorted. “Your fiancé offered me the whiskey. I couldn’t say no.”

  “Blake offered you a drink?” Brigit raised her eyebrow.

  “Winston said I had to get an in-depth interview with the groom.” Nathaniel nodded. “Don’t worry; we didn’t talk about you. Did you know Blake was voted Best Hair in high school?” He took another sip. “He’s seen all the Star Wars movies and he’s a brown belt in karate.”

  “You’re tipsy.” Brigit frowned. “You should go back to your hotel.”

  “I can’t leave in the middle of an interview.” Nathaniel looked at Brigit. “You’re the one who always said work comes before anything.”

  “Getting up every morning and going to the office is what most Americans do,” Brigit said quietly.

  “Perhaps you didn’t realize you were marrying a writer when you accepted my grandmother’s diamond ring,” Nathaniel replied. “Fitzgerald completed The Beautiful and Damned sitting poolside at a villa in Nice and Hemingway never left his fifth-floor Paris walk-up.”

  “You’re the one who gave it up and became a reporter for trashy magazines.” Brigit fiddled with her gold earrings.

  “Sometimes you have to let things go even when they’re important to you.” Nathaniel drained his glass. “And HELLO! is not a trashy magazine. Winston has a vision. He wants to bring the reader closer to celebrities. Sort of like communism in pop culture.”

  “You could have done so much more,” Brigit said quietly.

  “And miss writing about the royal family?” Nathaniel waved his glass. “Last week I did a story on Princess Kate’s nanny. The requirements of the job include knowledge of three languages and certification from a Swiss finishing school. Princess Charlotte is two years old but her nanny has to be able to teach her how to speak French and hold a teacup.”

  “It’s never too early to learn manners.” Brigit smoothed her skirt. “I have to say good-bye to our guests.”

  “There you are.” Blake wrapped his arm around her waist. “I was just saying good-bye to Alec Baldwin, he gave us matching bicycles as a wedding present.”

  “I had a couple more questions.” Nathaniel took a notebook out of his tuxedo pocket and turned to Blake. “You have backstage access to Victoria Secret’s fashion shows and a standing invitation to Sports Illustrated swimsuit photo shoots. You’re not going to lose your looks for another twenty years.” He drained his shot glass. “What made you decide to settle down?”

  Nathaniel gazed at Brigit’s glossy blond hair and continued. “Brigit does have eyes like sapphires and the loveliest heart-shaped mole behind her ear but she’s terribly bossy and she sleeps with her socks on.”

  Blake’s cheeks turned pale and his eyes flickered. He dropped the bottle of whiskey and grabbed Nathaniel’s collar.

  “You’re drunk and you should leave,” he muttered, releasing Nathaniel and stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to get someone to clean up this glass.”

  Brigit watched Blake stride across the square. She glanced at Nathaniel and her lips trembled.

  “How dare you start a fight at our welcome dinner,” she stammered.

  She walked to the stone arch and turned around. “And I haven’t worn socks to bed in years. You would have known that if you ever came to the bedroom.”

  Chapter Eleven

  DAISY RINSED A BOWL of Santorini cherry tomatoes and placed them on the marble counter. She added a wedge of feta cheese and a white aubergine. She took a bowl of fava beans out of the fridge and a shiver ran done her spine.

  She pictured Robbie at the welcome dinner in a black dinner jacket and white bow tie. His dark hair touched his collar and his cheeks glistened with aftershave. She remembered his brown eyes and warm smile and thought he looked so handsome she almost didn’t recognize him.

  She sliced a cucumber and remembered watching couples twirl across the dance floor. Her father wore a perfectly cut black tuxedo and her mother was stunning in a floor-length ivory gown. Daisy had suddenly wanted to put down her plate of stuffed dolmades and ask Robbie to dance.

  But then she heard glass breaking and saw Blake cross the courtyard. She watched Brigit gasp and Nathaniel clutch a shot glass. The last thing Brigit needed was for Daisy to appear on the arm of Nathaniel’s friend.

  * * *

  Now it was morning and Brigit was still in bed. Daisy was going to cook eggs and whole wheat toast. Whatever had happened last night, Brigit would feel better with a fluffy egg-white omelet and fruit salad.

  There was a knock at the door and she turned around. Robbie juggled an olive baguette and a bag of nectarines. He wore a navy T-shirt and tan shorts and his dark hair was freshly washed.

  “What are you doing here?” Daisy asked.

  “I got up early and went to the market.” Robbie placed the bag on the round kitchen table. “The vendor gave me an extra bag of nectarines and I thought you might like one.”

  “Thank you, I did the same thing.” Daisy pointed to the basket of mushrooms and ripe plums. “We must have missed each other.”

  “That smells delicious.” Robbie walked to the stove. “Would you like some help? I worked as a line cook in Provence one summer. My back ached and I
got blisters on my hands but I learned how to use butter and garlic.”

  Daisy inhaled the scent of Robbie’s musk shampoo and thought it would be lovely to slice fruit together in the sunny kitchen. It would be wonderful to drink Greek coffee and talk about his photographs and her designs.

  But she pictured Brigit’s flashing eyes when she’d arrived at the villa. Her cheeks were pale and she’d raced upstairs to her bedroom.

  Brigit would never admit Nathaniel upset her. But how would she feel if she appeared in the kitchen and found Robbie standing at the sink?

  “I can handle it.” Daisy twisted her ponytail. “Shouldn’t you be taking location shots of the view from Firostefani or the churches in Therasia?”

  “Actually I came to ask you a question,” Robbie said slowly. “After Santorini I’m going to explore Mykonos and Crete. I was wondering if you’d like to join me. We’d stay in hostels in separate rooms.” He ran his hands through his hair. “We’ll visit the ancient city of Knossos and swim at Paraga Beach.”

  “I thought you only traveled to places that suffered bombings and earthquakes,” Daisy replied.

  “A photographer has to have an eye for beauty.” Robbie gazed at her large brown eyes and auburn hair. “And I’ve always wanted to photograph the windmills and the ruins at Delos.”

  Daisy collected a jar of Kalamata olives and her heart raced. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t see Robbie until after the wedding, but what stopped her from traveling to Mykonos and Crete?

  She tossed capers into the pan and pictured whitewashed buildings and blue lacquered doors. They would eat oysters in quaint cafés and take long walks along the beach. She pictured sharp cliffs and bright beds of flowers and drinking pineapple daiquiris at the Belvedere bar.

  Then she thought of her living room littered with fabrics. Sketches covered the glass dining room table and floral skirts hung in the shower. She’d finally found something she loved to do and she couldn’t put it off to trek around the Greek islands.

  “It sounds wonderful but I can’t.” Daisy shook her head. “My former roommate works at Tory Burch and she promised to get me an interview.”