Following Zoe’s directions, the girls turned down Matoyianni, the main street of town. Shops, cafés, and bakeries stretched out in front of them. The Greek alphabet, so different from English, made it impossible for the girls to read the signs and letters painted on shop windows. But Nancy noticed that the vendors managed to get their messages across by displaying their merchandise.
“Oh, wait a minute,” Bess said, stopping in front of a stationery store. “That’s the most adorable statue I’ve ever seen.”
Nancy paused to see what had caught Bess’s eye. In the window of the small shop sat a tiny white replica of one of Mykonos’s windmills. It was surrounded by miniature white houses, fish, boats, and even a pelican. “It is an amazing piece of craftsmanship,” she agreed.
“I’ll bet the sails even move,” Bess said. “I wish I’d cashed some traveler’s checks, but I left them in the safe at the hotel. I don’t have much Greek currency—just a few drachmas.”
“Thank goodness,” George said with an exaggerated sigh. “Otherwise, we’d have to hire a donkey to carry your purchases back to the inn.”
Nancy and George followed as Bess went into the shop. The small room was jammed with floor-to-ceiling shelves stocked with international newspapers, magazines, postcards, and writing paper. An elderly man with white hair and a wooden pipe clenched between his teeth sat next to a counter against one wall.
When Bess pointed out the windmill to the shopkeeper, he handed it to her so she could have a closer look. “I make,” he said, pointing to his chest.
“You did?” Bess said. “Oh, I love it. This is the perfect birthday gift for my mother.” Her blue eyes sparkled—until she saw the price. “I guess I’ll have to come back after I change more money,” she told the elderly shopkeeper.
After thanking him for his help, the girls left the shop. “I wish he hadn’t put it back on display,” Bess said, pausing outside the shop as the shopkeeper reached down and replaced the statue in the window. “What if someone else buys it?”
“Relax, Bess,” Nancy assured her. “Why don’t you cash a traveler’s check at the hotel? If there’s time, we can make a quick trip back here before dinner—”
“The gorgeous American girls!” a familiar voice interrupted Nancy.
Nancy turned and immediately recognized Dimitri, the photographer from the beach. His dark curls glistened in the sunlight.
“That’s us!” Bess said, grinning at him.
“Would you like a photo here in Chora?” Dimitri asked, raising his camera.
“No, thanks,” Nancy replied. “We were just doing some shopping.”
“Ah, in the shop of my good friend Spiros,” Dimitri said, nodding at the stationery store. “That is my studio, just above.” He pointed to a narrow white stone staircase along the side of the building that led to a room just above the shop.
Bess brightened. “You have your own studio?”
“Of course,” Dimitri boasted, never taking his eyes off Bess. “I need a darkroom for my business. I have all the latest equipment.”
“I’d love to see the studio,” Bess told him. “Could you give us a little tour?”
“Now?” Dimitri hesitated. “I’ve been very busy today. It’s a mess.” A group of Japanese tourists caught Dimitri’s eye, and he excused himself to snap a few photographs. “I will see you later, I hope,” he told Bess.
Nancy was surprised at Dimitri’s abrupt switch. One minute the guy was melting, over Bess, the next minute he seemed to freeze. Bess had noticed his behavior, too. “I can’t decide if he was trying to get a date or give me the brush-off,” she said. Shrugging, she added, “Well, I’m not going to let it ruin my day. Come on, guys.”
The main street ended at a busy waterfront strip. The crescent-shaped harbor was ringed by hotels, cafés, and tavernas. Small fishing boats skimmed along the water. It all looked tempting. Nancy wasn’t quite sure which way to turn first.
Bess persuaded Nancy and George to go into a pastry shop. “After all,” she reminded them as they walked inside and peered into a glass case full of cakes and honey pastries, “we won’t be eating dinner for a few more hours.”