by Anita Hughes
“You have my word. From now on I’ll do everything to make it the best weekend of your life.” Nathaniel picked up the menu. “God, I’m starving. The best cure for a hangover is eggs and sausage and bacon.”
Brigit blinked in the bright sun. She sprinkled pepper on her eggs and pushed the plate toward him. “You can share mine, I’m not really hungry.”
* * *
Brigit turned onto Ypapantis Street and gazed at the jewelry stores with their lacquered front doors and brightly colored awnings. It was nicknamed “the gold street” and was one of the most famous shopping streets in Greece.
She remembered Nathaniel saying he’d searched every café in Fira for her and thought she should be happy. He had apologized and promised not to cause trouble. But there was still an uneasy pit in her stomach, as if she’d drank too much dark coffee.
She saw a couple strolling hand in hand and wished again Blake had spent the night at the villa. Then she adjusted her sunglasses and sighed. Of course he’d had to go back to his groomsmen, they had flown across the world to attend the wedding.
She stopped in front of a large gold window and thought Nathaniel was right, she was becoming one of those brides who only thought about herself. Daisy had dropped everything to come to Greece and she’d barely spent time with her. She would surprise her with a pair of aquamarine earrings or a lapis pendant.
She entered the store and saw a man leaning against a glass case. His dark hair was slicked back and he wore silk shorts.
“Blake, what are you doing here?” Brigit asked.
“This is a surprise.” Blake flushed. He turned to the man behind the counter and smiled. “Yiorgos, this is my fiancée, Brigit Palmer. Now you understand why I was in such a hurry. Isn’t she the most beautiful woman in Santorini?”
“It’s a great pleasure.” The man bowed. He wore a blue suit and thin black tie. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.”
“Why are you here? I thought you’d be having breakfast with your groomsmen.” Brigit gazed at the black-and-white marble floor and gold-lacquered ceiling. Glass cases were scattered around the room and the walls were covered in blue damask.
“Poniros is one of the most famous jewelry stores in Greece,” Blake explained. “Yiorgos made a bracelet to go with your turquoise Givenchy dress but the clasp didn’t close, so I brought it here after the party.” He rubbed his chin. “He promised he’d get it back first thing this morning.”
“You came here last night?” Brigit gasped. “It was after midnight.”
“I met Yiorgos’s father, Dimitrus, years ago in Athens,” Blake continued. “He made the most exquisite black diamond cuff links for my first Academy Awards. We’ve been friends ever since and Yiorgos is as talented as his father.”
“You already gave me a sailboat,” Brigit spluttered. “We’re not giving each other any more gifts until the morning of the wedding.”
“I commissioned Yiorgos to create a piece to commemorate every event.” Blake stuffed his hands in his pockets. “It’s such a magical weekend, I don’t want to forget it.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” Brigit insisted.
He handed her a gold box. “It’s from Yiorgos’s Thalassa collection, I hope you like it.”
Brigit snapped it open and discovered a sparkling bracelet set with pink and blue diamonds. It had a platinum clasp with a yellow amethyst.
Brigit looked at Blake and her doubts faded away. He was always thinking about her and she was the luckiest girl in the world.
“You can wear it this afternoon for the cruise to Therasia.” Blake fastened it around her wrist. “We’ll sneak into a stateroom and make love while everyone is gazing at the volcano.”
“We can’t leave our friends.” Brigit giggled, suddenly feeling light and warm and happy.
Blake leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips. She kissed him back and inhaled his scent of cologne and peppermint aftershave.
“We can do anything we want,” he whispered. “It’s our wedding.”
* * *
Blake went to pick up crepes for his groomsmen and Brigit lingered in Poniros, picking out topaz earrings for Daisy and a gold bangle for her mother.
She slipped on her sunglasses and stepped onto the pavement. The sun was warm on her shoulders and she saw the whitewashed buildings and blue domed roofs.
She gazed at the pink and blue diamond bracelet and thought about the rehearsal dinner at Amoudi Bay and the wedding in the stone church above Megalochori. She remembered Blake’s mouth on her lips and shivered. It was going to be a magical weekend and she’d never forget it.
Chapter Thirteen
DAISY TWISTED HER PONYTAIL and strolled along the cobblestone street in Firostefani. She gazed at boutique windows filled with bright cotton dresses and leather espadrilles and thought wouldn’t it be wonderful to see her designs in a store window.
Daisy had gone up to Brigit’s bedroom and discovered she’d left without having breakfast. She wasn’t upset that Brigit slipped out without telling her. She must have so much on her mind: lengthening the flower girl’s dress because she had a sudden growth spurt and making sure the three-year-old ring bearer could balance the ring on the satin pillow.
She remembered the events of the last couple of days and thought Brigit looked gorgeous in her pink Dior dress and turquoise Givenchy gown. Her hair was glossy and her skin was creamy like a fashion spread in a magazine.
She pictured Brigit and Blake twirling across the dance floor and felt a small twinge. She wasn’t jealous Brigit was getting married. She didn’t want to be responsible for taking her husband’s shirts to the dry cleaners and making sure they used enough starch. She enjoyed eating Life cereal and an apple for dinner and watching reruns of Sex and the City.
But then she pictured the way Blake put his hand on the small of Brigit’s back and thought they looked so in love. She remembered the summer after Nathaniel proposed and she’d helped Brigit pick out linens and place cards. The oak kitchen table at Summerhill was scattered with fabric swatches and card stock.
* * *
“How do you know what you want?” Daisy fingered an emerald silk tablecloth.
“I’ve always wanted to get married at Summerhill.” Brigit scribbled on a notepad. “The reception will be outside so everything should be emerald and pink and yellow.”
“I don’t mean the wedding colors,” Daisy corrected. “I mean how did you know you wanted to get married?”
Brigit put down her pencil and looked at Daisy. “You know when you discover a signed copy of Catch-22 at the Strand and can’t wait to give it to him,” she mused. “Or you suddenly have an interest in the Spanish Civil War and reread The Sun Also Rises. You buy the crunchy peanut butter at Whole Foods even though you’ve always eaten the creamy. Suddenly the checkout line seems to take forever because it’s almost eight p.m. and you haven’t seen him since you snuck out of the office for a tuna sandwich at Carnegie Deli.”
“But how do you know it will last forever?” Daisy demanded.
Brigit gazed at the silk fabric swatches and lace bags of Jordan almonds. Her mouth trembled and she looked like a small child about to jump in a swimming pool. Then she smoothed her hair and turned the page of her notebook.
“You just do.” She smiled. “You don’t even have to think about it.”
* * *
Daisy reached the cliff and gazed at white stone churches and beds of pink bougainvillea. Firostefani was a ten-minute hike from Fira and had one of the most spectacular views in Santorini. She watched tall sailboats glide over the Aegean and thought Brigit and Nathaniel knew each other their whole lives and still didn’t stay together.
Daisy was perfectly happy with Edgar, her French bulldog and her one-bedroom apartment on East Seventy-Third Street. She liked being on a first-name basis with Steve, the barista at Starbucks and occasionally eating donut holes for breakfast.
But she suddenly pictured Robbie’s dark hair
and brown eyes. It was crazy, but she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She remembered seeing him at the welcome dinner in a white dinner jacket and tan slacks and black shiny shoes. His cheeks glistened with aftershave and she’d longed to ask him to dance.
What if she accepted his offer to travel to Mykonos and Crete? Bergdorf’s and Bloomingdale’s would be there when she returned. She so enjoyed being with him, what if she never felt this way again?
Then she pictured the twinkling lights strung over the castle’s courtyard and thought maybe she was swept up by the romance of the weekend. She would feel differently sharing a seat on a sweaty tour bus or sleeping on a lumpy mattress in a hostel in Crete.
She wished she could ask Brigit’s advice but she still didn’t know what had happened last night. Now wasn’t the time to mention Robbie.
She suddenly saw a familiar figure stride up the steep path. He wore a short-sleeved shirt and navy shorts and leather sandals.
“Nathaniel,” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“I had breakfast with Brigit and thought I’d walk off fried eggs and bacon.” He sat beside her on the stone bench. “I don’t know how old Greek men trudge up and down these hills. I hiked two miles and I’m ready for a nap.”
“You had breakfast with Brigit?” Daisy asked.
“Technically we were both at Café Classico and I sat down at her table.” Nathaniel shrugged. “But she did offer to share her feta cheese omelet and fruit salad. She’s much more generous than when we were children. Do you remember she never gave me a bite of her Carvel chocolate drumstick?”
“That’s because you ate the whole thing and left her with the nuts,” Daisy replied.
“Nuts don’t belong in ice cream.” Nathaniel picked a purple daisy. “I actually apologized to Brigit, I told her I won’t cause any more trouble.”
“You did?” Daisy raised her eyebrow.
“You think I’m here to spoil the wedding, but landing this assignment is like getting an interview with Philip Roth. I couldn’t pass it up,” he replied.
“I don’t quite believe you,” Daisy said slowly. “You must be here for another reason.”
“Marriage is hard enough without doing it twice. I just wanted to make sure she’s happy.” He stopped and looked at Daisy. “Even though at the end I would have happily switched places with a Benedictine monk, I don’t regret a minute of it.”
“If you’re trying to win Brigit back—”
“I’d rather watch a Star Trek marathon than have Brigit color coordinate my dress shoes and socks,” Nathaniel cut in. “I’m worried about you.”
“Me?” Daisy gulped.
“Do you remember the summer you and Brigit were supposed to go to sleepaway camp and at the last minute she got allergies and canceled?” Nathaniel rubbed his chin. “I heard Sydney talking to my mother. Brigit refused to go because she was afraid she would get homesick.
“And remember when you started participating in gymkhanas and you suggested Brigit compete? She said she was too busy with tennis and cross country.” Nathaniel looked up. “She was terrified of horses.”
“Why are you telling me this now?” Daisy asked.
“Brigit isn’t as perfect as you think she is,” Nathaniel explained. “You’ve been so busy keeping up with her, you haven’t stopped to enjoy being Daisy.”
“I’m perfectly happy,” Daisy insisted. “I have a lovely apartment and a wonderful dog, and I’m going to launch my clothing line in the top department stores in Manhattan.”
“Then why don’t you let yourself fall in love?” Nathaniel asked. “Robbie said he’s falling in love with you but you want nothing to do with him.”
“He said that?” Daisy felt something pressing on her chest.
“He asked you to go to Mykonos and Crete and you said no.” Nathaniel pointed to the silver sailboats and dark outline of the caldera. “Are you really in a hurry to leave all this and go back to Manhattan?”
“You had a book of short stories reviewed in the New York Times and Brigit was an associate in a law firm and is about to head an international foundation.” Daisy fiddled with her hair ribbon. “The only thing I’ve accomplished in the last four years is training Edgar not to jump on the sofa and knowing the best use of cinnamon.” She paused and gazed at the shimmering ocean. “If I don’t go back now, the buyers will be booked until Christmas. How can I traipse around the Greek islands with a British photographer I just met, when I finally have a chance for a career?”
Nathaniel stood up and dusted his shorts. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at Daisy. “If you’re in love, how can you do anything else?”
* * *
Daisy entered a newsagent and gazed at the glossy postcards of Oia and Perissa. Glass cases were filled with sweets and she thought Robbie might like a Cadbury Flake bar.
She selected a packet of Life Savers and glanced at the clock behind the counter. It was almost noon and she had to dress for the cruise to Therasia.
She remembered what Nathaniel had said and felt a sharp jolt. If Robbie was falling in love with her, she couldn’t go back to New York without seeing if they had a future.
She gathered a guidebook to Mykonos and a bag of English toffees and handed them to the man at the cash register. She walked into the street and gazed at the striped awnings and lacquered window boxes and thought she was glad she had come to Santorini.
* * *
Sydney sat on the terrace of Café Mezzo and ate stuffed tomato with rice and seafood pasta. She dipped bread into olive oil and gazed at the wide band of ocean. The sky was pale blue and the clouds were a thin line of white and she thought it would be the perfect place to bring Francis for a romantic dinner.
Brigit and Daisy had gone out so she’d decided to hike to Imerovigli. The village had whitewashed houses and plaster churches with stained-glass windows. Narrow streets were filled with galleries and views of the Skaros castle.
The waiter brought a platter of prawn moussaka and she had to laugh. Everything on the menu had looked delicious, but now she couldn’t eat half of it. She wrapped spaghetti around her fork and thought of the last few days. Sex improved your appetite and made you feel twenty years younger.
Sydney sipped sparkling water and thought of the all nights she’d waited for Francis to come to bed but he’d fallen asleep on the sofa in his study. She remembered attending elegant dinner parties and feeling the delicious buzz between them. By the time they got home and Francis hung up his tuxedo and she slipped off her gown, it had fizzled like a warm glass of champagne.
She nibbled capers and remembered the early days of their marriage, when Francis would lead her upstairs while the ice was still fresh in their martinis. Sydney would unzip her dress and they would fall onto the king-sized bed. It was only later, when they were both flushed and sweaty that she realized she’d forgotten to put the chicken in the oven.
They would run down to the Second Avenue Deli and buy pastrami sandwiches and egg salad. They carted shopping bags through the art deco lobby and hoped no one was in the elevator. Finally they tossed their purchases onto the kitchen counter and raced back up to the bedroom.
* * *
Maybe all that was disturbing Brigit last night was she hadn’t found time alone with Blake. Sydney would remind Brigit on the cruise to Therasia that their friends could entertain themselves. The only people they should think about were each other.
She scooped up risotto and remembered when Brigit burst into her dressing room a few weeks after she’d started dating Blake. Her blond hair was cut in a new bob and she wore pink lipstick.
* * *
“Darling, there you are.” Sydney looked up from her dressing table. She was meeting Francis at Per Se and still needed to do her hair. “I called your phone all weekend. I wondered if you and Blake would like to join us for dinner tonight.”
“I left it at my apartment,” Brigit explained. “Blake surprised me with a trip to Palm Beach.”<
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“Palm Beach?” Sydney raised her eyebrow. “Isn’t that a little soon? You’ve only been dating a few weeks.”
“We stayed at the Breakers and had Citroën lemonade and grilled Atlantic salmon at the Beach Club,” Brigit continued. “Blake insisted on buying me a Lilly Pulitzer dress and I got my hair done at Salon Margrit.”
“Your hair is gorgeous, you belong on the cover of Vogue.” Sydney nodded. “I just wonder if you’re rushing things.”
“Blake is handsome and intelligent and we care about the same things.” Brigit fiddled with her gold earrings. “Why shouldn’t I go away with him?”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying each other’s company.” Sydney brushed her hair. “But when you’re nibbling Godiva chocolates in a suite at the Breakers, you might make the wrong decisions.”
“I’m hardly a virgin, I’ve been married,” Brigit said hotly. “I don’t think I’m going to ruin my reputation by sharing a hotel key.”
“I’m not worried about your reputation.” Sydney put down the hairbrush. “The closest my mother and I came to discussing sex was the length of my gloves at my cotillion. But sex can change the way you look at things,” she continued. “Every couple is perfect when they only have to worry about whether to order room service or share a steak at the hotel bar.”
“Every evening I can’t wait for Blake to appear at the office,” Brigit mused. “We can spend hours drinking a bottle of pinot noir and the maître d’ at Gramercy Tavern had to kick us out before we finished our chocolate tiramisu.”
“That’s the thing about sex. You can walk for hours without getting tired and the simplest tomato soup tastes delicious.” Sydney stopped and her eyes clouded over. “It makes you believe everything is wonderful. It’s like sitting at an outdoor café in the glorious countryside, and not looking up at the clouds and realizing it’s about to pour.”
* * *
Sydney nibbled pain au chocolat and turned the pages of her paperback book. She had only been in Gordes for four days, but she couldn’t get over the beauty of the French landscape. Everywhere she looked there were fields of lavender and vineyards and thick forests.