"Look at how beautiful this place is, Cara! I can't believe
you didn't want to come."

Cara Sokol elbowed her friend in the ribs from where they
were leaning on the ferry railing. Emma Taylor's cheerful
voice had carried to the clumps of locals. The ones who
understood English looked at Cara with marked unfriendliness.

Welcome to Greece. As if Cara needed another reason for the
Greek populace to hate her. "Aphrodisias is as beautiful as
its namesake," she told Emma loudly.

At her compliment to their admittedly lovely island, the
scowlers turned to gaze at the landmass they were
approaching. Cara poked her friend in the ribs again. "Emma,
enough about my not wanting to come to Greece. I never said
it wasn't a beautiful country."

"Sorry, Cara." Emma swiped a hunk of straight blond hair out
of her face.

Cara had expected the wild sea winds on the ferry ride and
had pulled her curly red hair back into a braid. She
couldn't get a comb through her hair on a good day, and the
June Aegean trade winds would snarl her hair into a
copper-wire scouring pad. "That's okay. I know you're
excited about our trip."

"Well, who wouldn't be?" Emma gestured broadly at the vista
in front of them. "Greece—the cradle of mathematics, the
birthplace of Euclid, Pythagoras, Archimedes—did you know
that before Archimedes died at the siege of Syracuse, he
requested his favorite mathematical proof be carved on his
tomb?"

"Wow." Cara would be hard-pressed to think of an appropriate
proof for her own tomb. Maybe a big, fat zero with a slash
through it, but she didn't even know the fancy math name for
it. She shook off her Greek-induced grump-iness and instead
stared ahead. Emma was still talking about Greek
mathematicians, understandably since she was a Ph.D. student
in math at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, where
they were neighbors in the same apartment building. Emma
looked like a cuddly blond cheerleader but had the brain of
a supercharged computer.

While Emma subsided into silence with a happy sigh, Cara
fell into the rhythm of the Greek speakers, their rapid-fire
consonants and vowels sorting out into words as her ears
adjusted to the language. The older men were complaining
about ever-volatile Greek politics and the crooks
mismanaging things in Athens, the women were discussing
children and clothes, and the two young men closest to Cara
and Emma were commenting on the girls passing by.

Cara hid a smile as the guys wondered if she and Emma dyed
their hair and discussed their hip size in favorable terms.
Chauvinistic Greek men might be, but at least they liked
girls with some meat on their bones.

She straightened from the railing and let her gaze travel
casually over the two young men. She knew better than to
wink at them, since she didn't want them following her
around Aphrodisias like eager puppy dogs. They met her gaze
and grinned, obviously enjoying the idea of putting one over
on the foreign girl. Sorry, dudes, I've been there and
done that. She'd like to meet the Greek guy who could
put one over on her now.

Despite her previous travels in Greece, Cara had never been
to Aphrodisias, part of the Cyclades group of islands. The
island was straight out of Greek legend, craggy hills where
undoubtedly shepherds still tended their flocks, blindingly
white cubic houses dotting the town and a wide crescent of
sandy beach pouring out into the ocean.

Emma followed her gaze. "Oh my gosh, look at that beach! As
soon as we get settled, I am going to practically live there."

"Athena says that beach is where the goddess Aphrodite first
came ashore. That's why the island is named after her."

"Amazing." Emma's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "A whole
island named after the Greek goddess of love? I can hardly
wait to find out what kind of men must live here."

Cara could. She had things to do other than cruise around
Aphrodisias for Greek men. Visit Athena, for one. She sighed
quietly but Emma heard her anyway.

"Oh, hey, here I am blabbing about guys like we're on spring
break in Florida and you must be worrying about your friend.
What did her daughter-in-law tell you when you called from
Athens?"

Cara shrugged. "Oh, Demetria says Athena is still having
complications since they brought her home from the hospital.
It wasn't so much the broken hip, but the pulmonary embolism
she got after the surgery. They're having trouble making
sure she doesn't get another clot. Athena refuses to go back
to the hospital, so they're limited in what they can do for
her."

Emma patted her back. "Nasty stuff. But I'm sure she'll
recover quickly now that she's home." Emma stared out at the
island. "There's something about this place…but I don't know
what."

Cara stared at Aphrodisias. The island was something, all
right. Home to the only person in the world who could get
her to return to Greece.

"Is she here? Is she here?" Athena Kefalas pulled herself to
her feet using the aluminum-frame walker her doctor insisted
on. Walkers were for old ladies, bah! And Athena Kefalas was
not an old lady at seventy. Hadn't her own dear mother lived
to ninety-five and just passed away last year, God rest her
soul, O Theos na tin anapafsi. She shook out her
long black skirt and clumped over to the kitchen, where
Demetria was hanging up the phone.

Her daughter-in-law pursed her lips and blinked a couple
times, no doubt to get some patience with her mother-in-law.
As far as Athena was concerned, she was a model
mother-in-law compared to her own Giorgy's mother. Now
she had been a mother-in-law straight from the Evil
One himself. She had also lived to a ripe old age,
probably because the daimones were afraid to have
her in Hell. They had eventually relented, though, and no
doubt welcomed her as one of their own.

Ah, but perhaps Athena was getting old, reminiscing
about long ago and not focusing on the present. And more
importantly, the future. "Demetria, did Karoleena arrive?"

"Yes, Mother, she and her friend arrived at the villa you
arranged for them and will come to see you this afternoon.
But remember, Karoleena wants us to call her Cara, her
American name."

"Of course, of course." Athena nibbled at a dish of pickled
olives on the sturdy kitchen table. "And when Cara
and her friend come, they must think I am still sick."

Demetria snorted. "You may need that walker for a couple
more weeks, but you look as healthy as a lamb in springtime."

"Hmm." Athena frowned. "I need to be pale and sickly.
Demetria, bring me the flour."

"Flour? Why? Are we baking kourabiethes for Cara?"

Athena paused for a second. Karoleena did love the sugared
almond cookies, but no time for baking now. "To powder my
face, of course. If Karoleena knows I am well, she will
leave quickly and she needs to be here on Aphrodisias."

Demetria didn't bother to ask why again but brought the flour.

Athena looked up from where she was patting the white powder
into her overly healthy-looking cheeks. "Thank you,
Demetria. You are a good daughter."

"Now, Mother, you only say that when you want me to do
something."

"Actually, if you could loan me your gray eye makeup to put
circles under my eyes…"

Demetria blew out a breath strong enough to rival the ocean
breeze but left to fetch the eye shadow.

Athena stared out the kitchen window overlooking the beach
from where the Goddess of Love had appeared. So little love
in this world anymore. But Athena had always known best,
especially since her own dear mother had named her after the
Goddess of Wisdom. She would do anything to help Karoleena,
her poor girl who was so unhappy. And if Athena needed to
wear enough flour on her face to make kourabiethes
for the whole island, then by Aphrodite, she would!

Cara finished unpacking her clothes into the dresser and
took a deep breath. Athena, or probably Demetria, had chosen
well in their vacation villa. The apartment was large and
airy with whitewashed walls and pale gray marble floor tiles
throughout. The furniture was solid dark walnut and would
take a team of strapping Greek youths to move.

She walked into the big living room with a long,
burnt-orange, L-shaped sectional couch and stared at the
large weaving hanging on the wall. She'd seen Athena's work
often enough to know it was either hers or someone whom
she'd taught. It had the look of an ancient Greek textile
with its black figures on a red background, but the subject
matter was typical of Athena—Artemis, the goddess of the
hunt chasing down some man who had offended her. There was
even a tiny arrow sticking out of the offender's butt.

Cara giggled, her first laugh since landing in Athens. Emma,
coming out of her own room, saw her smiling at the weaving.
"Now that's more like it. Isn't this place great? That
breeze blowing through the windows—and look, a balcony."
Emma hurried to the French doors and threw them open. "The
flowers are amazing, and the sea beyond."

Cara followed her onto the balcony. It held a small tiled
table and two chairs overlooking bright blue-painted window
boxes. Masses of bougainvillea trailed from the boxes down
the side of the building, their ruffled fuchsia flowers soft
and delicate against the spiky dark green leaves. Prim pink
geraniums stood upright as if to reprimand their lazy
sisters for falling over. She inhaled a deep breath of their
sweet fragrance mixed with the salty air. The startlingly
blue Aegean glittered in front of them.

"I'm getting my camera." Emma rushed back to her room and
returned with her small digital camera. "Say cheese, Cara."

Something loosened in her stomach. This was what she loved
about Greece—the open sea; the flowers; the crisp, pure air,
where the sun shone differently than it did anywhere else.
Cara grinned at the camera and Emma took her picture.

"Now take mine." They switched places and then Emma took
several more photos of the harbor view.

Cara wandered back into the villa's kitchen to pull two
mineral waters from the small fridge. "Here, be sure to
drink something. We haven't had much chance since we got
into Athens, and the long plane ride dries you out."

"Thanks. Cheers." Emma clinked her bottle against Cara's.
"Or should I say 'Opa!' and fling my bottle against
the wall?"

"I don't think the maid would like that. But if you want, we
can find a tourist restaurant where they fling plates and
dance around like Anthony Quinn in Zorba the Greek."

"And of course that's a terrible stereotype since Greeks
don't like to dance?" Emma lifted a blond eyebrow.

Cara grinned. "Of course they do." She drank her
met-aleekó neró and stared at the ocean. She loved
the sea— ironic, since she now lived in Michigan, a thousand
miles from the nearest salt water. She spotted a sail on the
horizon and her heart quickened. "Look, Emma, a sailboat."

"That's right, you used to crew on sailboats before you
moved to Michigan. Getting paid to sail the ocean blue must
have been a great gig."

"I did travel all over—California, Mexico, the Caribbean,
even once around Corfu—that's one of the western Greek
islands more influenced by Italy." She changed the subject
hurriedly. "Anyway, we should go sailing if we have time.
Maybe Athena has a cousin who can take us out on the water."

"Great! Speaking of Athena, isn't she expecting us now?"
Emma checked her leather-banded watch.

Cara laughed. "You may as well take that thing off. Greek
time doesn't work the same as American time. Athena is
expecting us sometime this afternoon. And if we don't show
up until evening, she'll just feed us then."

Emma set down her empty bottle. "Greek time or no, I want to
go explore the town. Ready?"

Cara nodded and followed, grabbing her wide-brimmed hat and
sunglasses. She locked the villa and they descended the
narrow stone stairs down to street level. "Athena's house is
only supposed to be a half mile away. If we get lost,
everyone knows where she lives."

It was a slow half mile, with Emma stopping frequently to
admire the cobalt-blue front doors and shutters and masses
of pink and purple flowers. When they emerged into the sun
from the shadowed back streets, Cara popped her hat and
sunglasses on.

Emma glanced over at her. "You're not going to get any color
at all if you keep bundling up." She tipped her face up to
the blazing afternoon sun and chuckled happily.

"And you are going to spend your vacation crying on
the couch from sun poisoning. This isn't Michigan, you know.
The sun is much stronger and you get a triple dose when it
bounces off the water and sand."

"I don't suppose there's any way we can pass for locals
anyway, is there?" Emma sent her a teasing glance.

"Not many redheaded Greek women out there." Cara smiled at
her friend. She could have been the county fair Corn Queen
for her Midwestern looks, a far cry from the supertanned
blond beach bunny often spotted at topless beaches around
the country.

Emma said theatrically, "Alas, alas, I'll just have to be
the legendary American co-ed on summer vacation." She looked
around in delight. They were now in the center of town and
passing quaint tavernas and sidewalk cafés. "But I thought
there'd be more people around. You did say summers were
crowded in the Cyclades."

Cara studied the scene, spotting cameras and white limbs
sticking out from shorts and tank tops. "The locals are
probably home napping. They often have a siesta time,
especially in the summer. Everybody else is a tourist."

"Including us." Emma laughed. "But we have to hit the club
tonight. On a Friday night it should be pretty lively, right?"

"Definitely." Seemed as if they were in for a girls' night
out. Emma wasn't used to Greek guys and didn't speak more
than five words of the language. Cara snickered to herself.
Too bad Cara didn't have the long black clothes and black
beady glare typical of an old widowed aunt protecting her
naive charge from the big, bad men of the world.

"Doesn't that sound fun, Cara?"

Actually, it did. Cara had loved going out on the town,
particularly to a raucous Greek nightspot. "Sure, but don't
forget we're still getting over jet lag."

"Yes, Mother. Wait, how do you say that in Greek?"

"Ne, meetéra."

Emma repeated it with an accent awful enough to make Cara
groan. "Let's practice your Greek after lunch."

Emma waved her hand. "No thanks, I'll practice on one of
those Greek men tonight."

"And they'll be happy to let you." Cara turned a corner and
checked her directions. "Here we are." Suddenly sick with
anxiety, she pressed her hand against her stomach.

She'd never been good around illness, and Athena was one of
her best friends.

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