Without a second thought George flung herself into Kevin’s arms. He held her close for a tender kiss, then whirled her around. “I’m glad you remember me,” he teased.
“What are you doing here?” George asked breathlessly. “I thought you were on assignment.”
“I am. I have to meet up with my TV crew on Sunday in Madrid. Until then, I’m all yours—aside from a quick interview I need to do in Athens.”
“Terrific!” George stood aside as the others rushed over to say hello to Kevin. No sooner had he been introduced to Mick, Theo, and Zoe than the band launched into a slow, romantic ballad. Within seconds Nancy found herself swept into Mick’s strong arms.
“This is called the ballo,” she heard Theo say to Bess. “It’s a couple’s dance, played in honor of the engaged pair.”
Bess sighed. “How romantic!”
Turning her head, Nancy saw a starry look in George’s eyes as she moved into Kevin’s arms. Behind them, Helena and Petros swirled in the center of the dance floor.
When Mick led Nancy over to the edge of the dance floor, she could hear the sea in the distance, lapping against the shore. “It’s such a beautiful night,” she said, tilting her head back so that she could see the stars glittering in the ink black sky. “I hate for it to end.”
“Who says it has to?” Mick pulled her closer, and Nancy smiled, forgetting about Bess’s stolen passport. All she could think about was Mick and the delicious feeling of dancing in his arms.
“I know it was my idea to come into town before the flight to Athens,” Bess told Nancy the next morning, “but after all that dancing last night, I should have stayed in bed.”
Nancy’s only response was a yawn. It was almost nine o’clock, but the engagement party had ended very late, and she was a little, tired. She and Bess had already rushed through a breakfast of milk and cheese pies in a bakeshop, called a zacharoplasteion. Now bleary-eyed, they were walking along the main street of Chora, dodging tourists and donkeys laden with baskets.
George had met Kevin for a morning jog on the beach, and Mick was probably still asleep. Lucky guy, Nancy thought. Since Bess and George were taking a noon flight to Athens, Bess had persuaded Nancy to join her for an early trip into town.
“After all this, I hope my mother likes the statue,” Bess said. “Oh—there’s the store.”
She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the stationery store was open. It didn’t take her long to pay for the windmill, which Spiros, the owner, had set aside for her after Zoe called him. The silver-haired man chewed on his unlit pipe as he wrapped the windmill in tissue and placed it in a box. He had just offered to gift wrap the box when the phone rang in the back room.
“Please,” he said. “Excuse, one moment.”
While he was gone, Nancy browsed around the shop. She looked up as the shop door opened and Dimitri stepped in. “It’s your friend, the paparazzo,” Nancy said under her breath to Bess.
Dimitri lowered a camera case to the floor, then walked behind the counter. “Ah, it is my favorite American girl,” he said, winking at Bess. “I will have those photos for you this afternoon. Where is my friend, Spiros?”
“He’s in the back,” Bess said. “He was just about to wrap that for me”—she leaned over the counter to point to a box—“when the phone rang.”
“Ah, then let me take care of it. Spiros and I help each other all the time. We are very good friends.” After placing the box on the counter, Dimitri began to search the shelves. “Wrapping paper,” he mumbled, pulling out boxes of sealed stationery, cardboard, and notepads—everything but wrapping paper.
Nancy was beginning to think Bess would miss her flight to Athens when Dimitri held up a sheet of pale blue paper. “Ah, here we go,” he said. “Beautiful paper. But then, my friend Spiros truly appreciates fine craftsmanship.”
With a few quick folds Dimitri wrapped the box.
“Thanks—evcharistó,” Bess said, dropping the package into her tote bag.