Santorini Sunsets Page 7

  “That’s none of your business.” Brigit flushed.

  “I was just curious how it feels to have someone new leave his hairbrush on the sink and his copy of the New Yorker next to the bathtub.” He fiddled with his backpack.

  “Blake doesn’t read the New Yorker, and he’d never leave anything on the sink. I’m finally living with a grown-up instead of a child who thinks the nanny is going to make his bed.” Brigit looked at Nathaniel. “I’m sure you know what it’s like to share your bed with someone new. Just because you can’t afford Kobe steaks, I can’t imagine you took a vow of chastity.”

  “Maybe someone to get sweaty with after a few dry martinis at the pub.” Nathaniel shrugged. “But no one to wake up with and talk about civil rights and the protests in Baltimore.”

  “My father asked me to attend a charity ball at the St. Regis and I was seated beside Blake by accident.” Brigit adjusted her sunglasses. “I could tell right away he was different from the bankers and stockbrokers I’d met in New York. He drove his own car and walked me to my door to say good night. You’d be surprised how many men stay in their Town Car and wait until I’m in the foyer.”

  “It’s not hard to drive a car,” Nathaniel said. “Do you remember I took my father’s vintage Ford and drove you and Daisy to Montauk? From the way you two were shrieking, you would have thought you were being kidnapped.”

  “You were fourteen,” Brigit exclaimed. “I was terrified of getting arrested.”

  “We parked at the beach and went swimming.” Nathaniel plucked a blade of grass. “I hadn’t seen you in a bathing suit since the previous summer. You stripped down to your bikini and I suddenly felt dizzy.”

  Brigit looked at Nathaniel sharply. She patted her hair and climbed the stairs.

  “I have to go.” She opened the french doors.

  “Did you say you sat next to Blake by accident?” Nathaniel asked. “That’s funny because I ran into your father at Claridge’s last summer. I don’t know if he mentioned that we met. I was interviewing Gavin Rossdale and Francis was eating a duck egg and asparagus sandwich in the Reading Room. I sat down and said I owed him and Sydney an apology.” He paused and looked at Brigit. “I promised him I’d take care of his little girl for the rest of my life and I let him down. I was terribly sorry and hoped he and Sydney would forgive me.”

  “Oh.” Brigit suddenly thought the sun was too bright. “He never told me that he saw you.”

  “It was very awkward. If we weren’t sitting in one of the most exclusive bars in London he might have punched me in the jaw. I felt badly and asked how you were and he said you were pretty low but he’d found you the perfect guy.” Nathaniel paused. “His name was Blake Crawford and he was an actor.”

  “That’s impossible,” Brigit frowned. “Blake would have told me.”

  “It doesn’t matter, look how well everything turned out.” Nathaniel shrugged. “You’re madly in love and marrying Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor.”

  “Blake isn’t anything like other movie stars.” Brigit smoothed her skirt. “He’s hardworking and generous and I’ve never been happier.”

  “I’m going to find Robbie and borrow some euros for a feta cheese omelet.” Nathaniel stood up. “His father is a British lord with a large mansion in Sussex. It’s easy to traipse around the globe with a camera and a rucksack if you can go home to baked pheasant and preheated towels.”

  “Your parents gave you everything,” Brigit murmured.

  “You mean a Dartmouth degree and a convertible and membership to the University Club?” Nathaniel said. “None of that means anything.”

  “What do you mean?” Brigit asked.

  “The people who love you have to believe in you.” Nathaniel’s eyes were bright. “The rest you can accomplish yourself.”

  Nathaniel opened the gate and turned around. “I’ll see you at the picnic. Don’t forget to wear sunscreen or you’ll get more freckles on your nose.”

  “You’re coming to the picnic?” Brigit asked.

  “It’s on Winston’s itinerary.” Nathaniel fished a piece of paper out of his pocket and smiled. “I can’t wait to meet the groom.”

  * * *

  Brigit stood at the enamel sink and her heart raced. Blake and her father couldn’t have known each other; one of them would have mentioned it.

  She flashed on the time Blake was stopped by reporters at the Hotel Grande Bretagne in Athens. He’d said the luckiest night of his life was when he was seated next to Brigit at the Save the Children foundation gala.

  She nibbled a purple grape and thought perhaps Nathaniel was lying. He didn’t want Brigit and Blake to be happy and was stirring up trouble. But she sat on the wooden chair and sighed. Nathaniel was stubborn and messy but he had always been brutally honest.

  She heard footsteps and saw Blake standing in the doorway. He wore a short-sleeved shirt and tan shorts and leather sandals.

  “You slipped out before I woke up.” He kissed her on the mouth. “I was going to bring you a tray of yogurt with fruit and thyme honey. I thought we could spend the morning in bed, rehearsing for the wedding.”

  “I know my vows,” Brigit replied. “I memorized them on the flight.”

  Blake tucked her hair behind her ear. “I was talking about the wedding night.”

  “You were the one who wanted to stay in separate villas.” Brigit giggled.

  “It seemed like a good idea while I was in California and you were in New York, but now I want to be with you every minute.” Blake sliced a peach. “I met a shopkeeper whose friend runs an orphanage in Thera. Did you know those children have never owned a computer?

  “I thought we could send them a shipment of Macs. Can you imagine their faces when they press the power button and see videos of jungles in Africa or ice fjords in Finland?”

  Brigit bit her lip. She wanted to tell him what Nathaniel had said but mentioning Nathaniel’s name was like bringing in an unwelcome guest. There would be plenty of time to talk about Nathaniel when Blake and Nathaniel met.

  She ate another grape and thought there had to be a way to ask if Blake had met her father before the charity gala. She opened her mouth but Blake glanced at his watch.

  “God, I forgot.” He took her hand. “We have an appointment in Marina Vlihada.”

  “But we’re hosting the picnic at noon,” Brigit protested. “I need to shower and change.”

  “You’d look beautiful in my white Hanes T-shirts and boxers.” Blake grabbed a ripe pear. “It’s a surprise, I can’t wait to show it to you.”

  * * *

  Brigit sat on the donkey and gazed at the wide stretch of the caldera. The sun was bright and she could see the volcanic islands of Palea Kameni and Nea Kameni. She studied the sailboats far below and thought she had never seen so many colors. It was as if the whole world had been rinsed in blue and orange and yellow.

  They strolled quickly to the square and were greeted by an old man leading two donkeys. Brigit hoisted herself into the saddle and clutched the leather strap. She thought of the glossy ponies she and Daisy used to ride in Central Park and giggled.

  She remembered what Nathaniel had said and flinched. Maybe he had gotten the conversation with her father wrong; it was some silly misunderstanding. It was her fault for talking to Nathaniel. She should have told him to eat fried eggs with Kasseri cheese in Fira and she would see him later. Now instead of enjoying the breathtaking view she felt as if there was an insect buzzing around her head.

  She gripped the donkey tighter and inhaled the scent of bougainvillea and hibiscus. She wasn’t going to think about Nathaniel, she was going to enjoy being on one of the most glorious islands in the world with the man she loved.

  “Isn’t it spectacular?” Blake hopped off the donkey. “From Marina Vlihada you can take a private cruise to the coast of Perivolos and the Red and White Beaches. We can snorkel on the island of Aspronisi and go fishing in Therasia.”

  “We don’t have time to take a
cruise.” Brigit glanced at the white sailboats lining the dock. “We have twenty people including a U.S. Supreme Court judge and an Academy Award–winning screenwriter coming to eat lamb souvlaki and spinach spanakopita.”

  “Come on.” Blake lifted her off the donkey. “This will only take a minute.”

  Brigit followed him along the dock to a blue catamaran. It had a marble bar and creamy leather upholstery. The steering wheel was smooth walnut and there was an ivory chessboard.

  “It’s gorgeous.” Brigit glanced at the blue-and-gold interlocking B’s on the side of the boat and suddenly her heart raced. “Who does it belong to?”

  “I wondered why we were in such a hurry to leave on our honeymoon when we’re getting married on a Greek island.” Blake took her hand and stepped onto the deck. “We can spend a few days sailing to the islands of Sikinos and Anafi. We’ll go swimming in Manganari Bay and eat grilled swordfish in Irakleia. At night the whole island is lit up and you can see the tiny village of Imerovigli and the ruins at Firostefani.

  “I’ve lived in Los Angeles for fifteen years and never been on a boat except for a movie premiere on the Queen Mary that never left the port.” Blake leaned over the railing. “I stood on the deck eating cracked lobster and thought they may as well have held the reception in the ballroom of the Beverly Wilshire. Now we can spend the weekend on Catalina or get ice cream on Balboa Island.”

  “You bought the catamaran?” Brigit whispered.

  “It’s your wedding present.” Blake grinned, leading her down carpeted stairs. “It comes with a personal chef. We can catch salmon and have it for dinner with fresh vegetables and a summer salad.”

  Brigit remembered when she was a child and her father bought a wooden sailboat. She pictured Daisy in a striped sailor dress and her mother in white capris and leather loafers. She remembered thinking why would anyone want to grow up, when life was about sailing on the sound and eating corn on the cob and slices of watermelon.

  She glanced at Blake’s smooth dark hair and green eyes and her heart lifted. She had been wrong; it was wonderful to grow up. She was going to have a handsome, caring husband and her own family.

  Blake showed her the salon with polished wood floors and cream walls lined with abstract paintings. The bathroom had a gold-tiled shower and the library was crammed with paperback books by Mark Twain and Hemingway.

  She entered a round room with an orange wool rug and turquoise walls. A king-sized bed was covered by a white lace bedspread and littered with pink and yellow pillows. There were ceramic vases and bunches of purple peonies and pink anemones.

  “I had it decorated in the colors of Santorini.” He unfastened the clip in her hair. “Whether we’re sailing in Tahiti or just tied up in Marina del Rey, we will always remember the green cliffs and clear blue water of Santorini.”

  Brigit inhaled his scent of citrus shampoo and musk cologne and kissed him softly on the lips. She glanced at the cabin door and hesitated.

  “What if someone shows up?”

  “I told the captain to go sightseeing at the ruins of Akrotiri.” He closed the door. “He took a donkey, he won’t return for hours.”

  Brigit unzipped her capris and slipped off her sandals. She unbuttoned Blake’s shirt and drew him onto the bed. She felt his mouth on her breasts and gasped. She guided his head between her legs and felt the stirring deep inside her. She pressed herself against him until the waves came and she was almost dizzy. She arched her hips and thought nothing had ever felt so exquisite.

  Blake pulled her arms over her head and nuzzled her neck. He opened her legs and slipped inside her. She wrapped her arms around his back and urged him to go faster. She felt his slick chest on her breasts and his thighs between her legs until they came together in one shattering thrust.

  “I love you,” he whispered, tucking her against his chest. “I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

  “I love you too,” she murmured, her body still pulsing.

  She felt his steady heartbeat and let out her breath. She would ask Blake about her father when he woke up and sort it all out. She gazed at the round white portholes and paneled ceiling and was certain Nathaniel was wrong. It was just like him, to spoil all her fun.

  Chapter Six

  DAISY GLANCED AT her yellow halter top and long gauze skirt and flat gold sandals. It was early afternoon and the sun was high in the sky. She touched her hair that was knotted into a loose ponytail and fiddled with her coral necklace. She gazed at the women wearing crepe dresses and men in linen shirts and silk shorts and sighed.

  She thought a picnic at Kamari Beach meant pita and fava beans and wooden bowls of sun-dried tomato salad. She imagined sitting under striped beach umbrellas and watching Jet Skiers glide across the Aegean.

  But she’d arrived a few minutes late because the taxi got a flat tire and she had to make the last half of the trek by donkey and discovered Brigit and Blake had reserved the whole Nichteri Restaurant.

  She drifted through rooms with green damask walls and white gauze curtains and chairs covered in striped silk cushions. Round tables were set with bouquets of purple anemones and favors wrapped in white lace and tied with a turquoise ribbon.

  Glass sideboards held bowls of orzo pasta and spaghetti with feta cheese and green olives. There were plates of pork filet and beetroot. She gazed at the platters of baked mackerel and steamed mussels and wondered, if this was a simple picnic, what were they going to serve for the rehearsal dinner and wedding?

  Then she noticed Brigit in a knee-length Escada dress and smiled. Of course they would have the picnic at the most elegant restaurant on Kamari Beach. Blake and Brigit were going to be Hollywood royalty and guests who interrupted their vacations in Capri or Amalfi wouldn’t expect anything less.

  Daisy filled her plate with pannacotta with apricots and Greek halva. She saw the mother of an old school friend and suddenly didn’t want to hear how her daughter had won the World Equestrian Games in São Paulo.

  She ran down to the beach and saw a familiar figure leaning against a thatched umbrella. He wore a striped shirt and had a silver camera slung over his shoulder.

  Daisy slipped off her sandals and walked in the opposite direction. The last thing she wanted was to be alone with Robbie and blurt out something she shouldn’t about Brigit and Nathaniel’s marriage. She hurried along the black sand but suddenly the pebbles were too hot and Robbie approached her.

  “The pebbles are made from volcanic formation,” Robbie explained. “In the afternoon they get so hot, you have to wear shoes or you’ll burn your feet.”

  “I noticed.” Daisy grimaced. “Aren’t you supposed to be taking photos of the picnic?”

  “Nathaniel had to send an e-mail and said he’d meet me here,” Robbie said. “I thought I’d wait until he arrives.” He glanced at Daisy’s halter top and frowned. “Is everyone going swimming?”

  “I assumed a picnic meant stuffed grape leaves and hummus on the beach,” Daisy replied, gazing at the blue ocean. “It really is gorgeous here, the water is so clear and the sand is like a black pearl necklace.”

  “Kamari Beach is one of the most popular beaches in Santorini,” Robbie said. “In 1956 the whole island was almost destroyed by an earthquake. Tourists stayed away for years and they had to completely rebuild the economy. Now there are luxury hotels and fabulous restaurants and villas with infinity pools and glass patios.”

  “I’ve always been happiest at the beach.” Daisy nodded. “My parents have a cottage in the Hamptons and Brigit and Nathaniel and I used to spend whole summers building sand castles. Brigit would run to the shore before breakfast because she didn’t want Nathaniel to get a head start.”

  “Brigit and Nathaniel knew each other as children?” Robbie asked.

  “We were next-door neighbors.” Daisy nodded. “My mother always laughed and said he was going to make some woman happy because he arrived every morning with a basket of red apples or ripe peaches. He wanted to make sure he was
invited to lunch; my mother made the best club sandwiches with bacon and avocado and swiss cheese.”

  “Nathaniel never said anything,” Robbie mused. “I would have thought if they knew each other for so long…”

  “That they would stay married? Brigit worked twelve-hour days at the law firm and couldn’t trust Nathaniel to keep their goldfish alive.” Daisy’s cheeks flushed. “Blake sends yellow roses to Brigit’s office and they travel all over the world. They can have an elegant dinner without arguing if Hawthorne was a better writer than Steinbeck and whether most French movies are borderline pornography. I’ve never seen Brigit so happy and if Nathaniel prints one word about their past I’ll make sure he ends up on a kayak without a paddle.”

  “Of course the bride and groom are in love,” Robbie said. “Why else would they be getting married?”

  “The sun is too hot and I need a glass of lemonade and a grape-and-hazelnut salad.” She walked toward the restaurant.

  “I’m going to walk to the beach at Perissa when it gets cooler. Would you like to join me?” Robbie called. “At night Mesa Vouno is lit up and the Red Beach is spectacular.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Daisy turned around. “I’m the maid of honor and I’ve got a million things to do for the bride.”

  * * *

  Brigit filled a ceramic plate with Santorini sausage and quinoa salad. She bit into a feta cheese saganaki and thought she’d never tasted anything more delicious. She glanced at Blake in his navy blazer and white silk shirt and couldn’t remember being so happy.

  She watched him chat with the British consul and remembered making love on the catamaran. When they were together she felt as if they could accomplish anything: rebuild whole villages and send doctors to places that had never heard of Tylenol or aspirin.

  She thought again about what Nathaniel had said and knew her father and Blake would never keep anything from her. As soon as the guests finished the pecan pie with chocolate ice cream she would ask Blake what Nathaniel had meant.