She would have preferred a dozen roses. The wedding date was set, one thousand invitations were sent out, and elaborate plans were made.
It was then that Constantin Demiris entered Melina Lambrou’s life.
They met at one of the dozen or so engagement parties that were being given for the betrothed pair.
The hostess introduced them. “This is Melina Lambrou—Constantin Demiris.”
Demiris stared at her with his brooding black eyes. “How long will they let you stay?” he asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Surely you’ve been sent from the heavens to teach us mortals what beauty is.”
Melina laughed. “You’re very flattering, Mr. Demiris.”
He shook his head. “You’re beyond flattery. Nothing I could say would do you justice.”
At that moment Count Manos approached and interrupted the conversation.
That night, just before falling asleep, Melina thought about Demiris. She had heard about him, of course. He was wealthy, he was a widower, and he had the reputation of being a ruthless businessman and a compulsive womanizer. I’m glad I’m not involved with him, Melina thought.
The gods were laughing.
The morning after the party, Melina’s butler walked into the breakfast room. “A package has arrived for you, Miss Lambrou. It was delivered by Mr. Demiris’s chauffeur.”
“Bring it in, please.”
So Constantin Demiris thinks he’s going to impress me with his wealth. Well, he’s in for a big disappointment. Whatever he’s sent…whether it’s an expensive piece of jewelry, or some priceless antique…I’m going to send it right back to him.
The package was small and oblong, and beautifully wrapped. Curious, Melina opened it. The card read, simply: “I thought you might enjoy this. Constantin.”
It was a leather-bound copy of Toda Raba by Nikos Kazantzakis, her favorite author. How could he have known?
Melina wrote a polite thank-you note, and thought: That’s that.
The following morning another package arrived. This time it was a recording by Delius, her favorite composer. The note read: “You might enjoy listening to this while reading Toda Raba.”
From that day on there were gifts every day. Her favorite flowers, and perfume, and music, and books. Constantin Demiris had taken the trouble to find out what Melina’s tastes were, and she could not help but be flattered by his attention.
When Melina telephoned to thank Demiris, he said: “There’s nothing I could ever give you that would do you justice.”
How many women had he said that to before?
“Will you have lunch with me, Melina?”
She started to say no, and then thought: It can’t hurt to have lunch with the man. He’s been very thoughtful.
“Very well.”
When she mentioned to Count Manos that she was having lunch with Constantin Demiris, he objected.
“What’s the point, my dear? You have nothing in common with that terrible man. Why are you going to see him?”
“Vassilis, he’s been sending me little gifts every day. I’m going to tell him to stop.” And even as Melina said it, she thought: I could have told him that over the telephone.
Constantin Demiris had made reservations at the popular Floca restaurant on Panepistimiou Street and he was waiting for Melina when she arrived.
He rose. “You’re here. I was so afraid you might change your mind.”
“I always keep my word.”
He looked at her and said solemnly: “And I keep mine. I’m going to marry you.”
Melina shook her head, half amused, half annoyed. “Mr. Demiris, I’m engaged to many someone else.”
“Manos?” He waved a hand in dismissal. “He’s not right for you.”
“Oh, really? And why is that?”
“I’ve checked on him. Insanity runs in his family, he’s a hemophiliac, he’s wanted by the police on a sex charge in Brussels, and he plays a dreadful game of tennis.”
Melina could not help laughing. “And you?”
“I don’t play tennis.”
“I see. And that’s why I should marry you?”
“No. You’ll marry me because I’m going to make you the happiest woman who ever lived.”
“Mr. Demiris…”
He covered her hand with his. “Costa.”
She withdrew her hand. “Mr. Demiris, I came here today to tell you that I want you to stop sending me gifts. I don’t intend to see you again.”
He studied her for a long moment. “I’m sure you are not a cruel person.”