A Bouquet of Love (24 page)

It was weird, all right.

“If we leave now, how will I ever get to build that giant sand castle with you, Cassia?” Gina wriggled her way into
my lap. “Remember? You promised to take me to Stewart Beach to build sand castles.”

“We can still do that . . . before we go.”

“Yes, but who's going to look after it when we're gone?” She sniffled and I knew that tears weren't far behind.

“Sand castles don't last forever.” Filip rolled his eyes. “The wind will blow it over or the tide will wash it out to sea, so what does it matter if we're in Galveston or Santa Cruz? Won't make any difference to the sand castle.”

“But it will to me!” Gina dissolved into tears at this proclamation.

I held her close. “The point is, you can build sand castles no matter where you go, and we can help you because we'll all be together.”

“And you can make lovely flower arrangements wherever you go.” Yia Yia's gentle voice interrupted our conversation. I turned to see her standing in the open doorway. With one hand on her arthritic hip, she made her way toward the bed and took a seat on the edge. “Are you talking about the move?”

“Yes.” Gina sighed. “I don't want to go.”

“Me either,” Darian added.

“What about you, Yia Yia?” I asked. “Do you want to go back to Santa Cruz?”

“Where I want to be”—her eyes grew misty—“is with my family. Doesn't matter where, as long as we're together.”

I understood. Sort of. I wanted to keep the family together, of course. Staying behind would leave a hole in my heart the size of the state of Texas. But giving up my relationship with Alex—the day in, day out one—would be the hardest choice of my life. Harder by far than leaving my friends in Santa Cruz to come here.

Still, when I looked around the room, when I saw the precious faces of those I loved more than life itself, I knew in my heart that I could never let them go without me, no matter how much it hurt.

Darian suggested we pray together, so we did. That prayer acted as a salve to calm us down, especially when Yia Yia joined us in lyrical Greek, her words laced with emotion and tears. Afterward we all hugged and said our good nights. I wiped away Gina's tears and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“It will end well,” I whispered.

“Promise?” Her pain-filled eyes met mine, and I forced myself to nod.

After turning out the light, I settled into bed, my thoughts reeling. In spite of the prayer, I had a hard time sleeping that night. Who could sleep, when wrestling with the sheets was so much more fun?

Between the hours of midnight and one, I convinced myself that I should stay in Galveston. Pursue my relationship with Alex apart from my family.

Between the hours of one and two, I found my heart nearly as twisted as the sheets every time I thought about Gina growing up without me. And Darian. And Eva. And Filip. We would eventually grow apart if I stayed behind.

Between the hours of two and three, I thought about the flower shop. Marcella wanted to sell it to me. She'd even hinted at giving it to me for a great price, no less. How could I turn down such a generous—and easy—offer? Working with flowers was my dream job, after all. And on my new salary, I could certainly afford an apartment of my own, right?

Between the hours of three and four, I reminded myself that California—vast, beautiful, tropical California—had
hundreds, if not thousands, of flower shops. Surely I could find a job in one of them. Babbas would likely champion the idea now that he was taking a softer, kinder approach to life.

Sometime around sunrise, I started thinking about Bella, about her offer to join the other vendors at Club Wed. What a privilege to work with the crème de la crème. My résumé would shine like a new penny. Yia Yia would be so proud.

Yia Yia. My heart felt heavy as I factored my grandmother into this equation for the first time. I couldn't let her go to California without me. At nearly ninety years old, she might not be with us much longer. The very idea caused me to cry. When Gina stirred in the bed next to mine, I pulled the pillow over my head to muffle the sound. That, coupled with the inability to breathe properly, finally caused the tears to stop. Why fight it? I had no choice but to stick with my family, no matter how far it took me away from Galveston.

Galveston . . . Made me think of the beach.

The beach . . . Made me think of bikes.

Biking . . . Made me think of Alex.

Alex . . . Made me think I might just have a meltdown if I left without him.

Just about the time I'd settled on the “I must go to California with my family” decision, I realized how strong my feelings for Alex really were. I remembered the three little words he'd used in his text.

Now if only he'd use the next three words:
I. Love. You.

They would make my decision a whole lot easier.

You might be Greek if you think dishwashers are people.

T
he next couple of days we all tiptoed around Mama and Babbas. On Saturday morning, just before opening the shop to customers, our father gathered us together. I could tell his smile was painted on as he spoke.

“I talked to the landlord. He doesn't think he will have any trouble leasing out the property. There's a local artist who's been hoping for a spot on the Strand.” Babbas didn't look excited by this possibility, but he gave us all a thumbs-up.

“I see.” Only two words from Mama. I couldn't tell much from her tone either.

“He's thinking that we might be able to get out of the lease by the end of the month.” Babbas reached for a broom. “I'm thinking another week or two and then we'll start the
process of shutting things down so that we can get packed up. Cleared out.”

“Cleared out.” Two more words from Mama. Zero emotion.

Really, Mama? Can't you give us more
than that?

On the other hand, I had enough emotion for all of us. Leaving would be bad enough, but closing up shop? Packing up the very things we'd just unboxed weeks ago? Loading and lifting, lugging and hauling? The exhaustion hit me all over again. No thanks. I'd had enough of that already.

Mama simply nodded and walked into the other room.

Babbas looked my way and sighed as he tossed the dish towel over his shoulder. “She hates me.”

“She doesn't hate you,” I said. “She's just got a lot on her mind.”

“No, she hates me.” He walked into the kitchen, muttering in Greek.

Gina tagged along behind him, tugging on his apron. “Babbas? Babbas?”

He turned and knelt down in front of her, sweeping her into his arms. “What is it, little monkey?”

She threw her arms around his neck. “I don't hate you. I love you.”

“Well, I love you too, Gina.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“The yelling kind of love?” she asked. “Or the hugging kind of love?”

The innocence of her question made me gasp out loud. Yikes. Our father's eyes misted over as he pulled her into a warm embrace. “The hugging kind of love.”

“Good.” She pulled away and put her hands on his shoulders. “Because I have something to tell you and I don't want you to yell.”

“I won't.” He spoke in a voice filled with genuine sweetness. “What is it?”

“Babbas, I don't want to go back to California. I like it here.” She spun in a circle, nearly knocking several pans off the counter in the process.

Babbas stood and straightened up her mess but never fussed at her. “Well now, sweet girl, that is a dilemma. But we have to do what makes sense for the whole family.”

“The whole family wants to stay here.” She crossed her arms. “All of us!”

Babbas looked at me. “Is this so?”

I released a slow breath and nodded. “I can't speak for Mama, but the rest of us are torn. It's a . . . well, a hard decision.”

“One I've made for the benefit of the whole family.” Babbas wiped his brow, then reached down to pick up Gina. “I want my little monkey to be happy, but the monkey's mommy must be happy too. You see?”

“But if we leave, nothing will be the same!” Gina's little voice quivered, and soon gut-wrenching sobs followed. Babbas held her close.

My other siblings, likely frightened by the crying, came tearing into the kitchen one after another. Mama followed on their heels. Athena came in behind her, the crinkles deepening around her eyes as she watched Gina weep and wail.

“What's happened?” Mama wrung her hands together. “Are you injured, Gina?”

“She's fine.” Babbas put Gina down and smoothed her mussed hair. “We were just having a father-daughter talk. But she knows that all will be well, right, little monkey?”

Gina sniffled and shrugged. “I guess.” The sobs started
again. “But I really, really, really, really don't want to move, Babbas.” She flung her arms around him. “Why do we have to go? I'll never get to build my sand castle. Never, never, never.”

“There now . . .” He knelt once more and his arms encircled her.

I felt tears spring to my eyes. Apparently my brothers and sisters were having a tough time with this too. And Mama? She brushed the tears from her eyes and joined Babbas and Gina, kneeling down to join their little circle.

Athena looked my way as if to ask, “What have I missed?” and I just shook my head. There would be plenty of time to fill her in later.

When Gina's cries ended, Mama dabbed her tears away. “We love you, baby girl.”

“I know.” She looked at our father, whose face was awash with tears. “I was scared to tell you, Babbas. I thought you would yell at me.”

“I'm working hard on that, pumpkin. My yelling days are over.” He looked at Mama as if to reassure her.

Gina sniffled. “O-okay.”

Filip lifted his palms, an odd expression on his face. “Am I the only one who's going to miss the yelling?”

Our father's brows met in the middle as he took in this information. “You . . . what?”

Darian laughed. “I think he's used to a certain decibel level. Maybe you need to keep being . . . well, nice . . . but louder.”

For a minute I thought this might upset him, but Babbas started chuckling. “A louder version of nice?”

“Yeah, you could yell nice things at us,” Filip said. “Like, ‘Hey, you're a great kid! I really love you!' Stuff like that.”

Babbas tousled my brother's hair.

“Or what about, ‘Hey, you're great at washing dishes!'” Darian added. “‘Why don't you get in there and show me how good you are?'”

Eva groaned, but I couldn't help but laugh. As much as things changed, they stayed the same.

“When we get back home to Santa Cruz, our lives will be different.” Babbas now addressed all of us. “I promise. We will have more time together as a family. We will go on vacations.”

“Do you mean that, Niko?” Mama crossed her arms. “Or will you go back on this promise like before?”

He looked wounded by her words. “I-I will need to make sure the business is stable, but I promise to go on a vacation.” His expression clouded with anger, but I had a feeling he would carry through for Mama's sake.

“Very well. I will put together a plan.” Mama's lips turned up in a smile.

“A . . . plan?” Babbas released a slow breath.

“Yes, Niko. That's what people do when they go on a vacation. They make a plan.” She waved her hands in the air. “But don't worry about any of that. Just leave it all to me. I know someone.”

“You know someone?” Babbas looked concerned.

“In the travel business. One of our customers. I will work out the details.”

Now he really looked worried. “But travel agents cost money, no?”

“Don't worry about that part, Niko.” She shot him a frustrated look.

The bell on the front door jangled, and Babbas and the boys went out into the shop to tend to the incoming customers. I wrestled with my emotions as I tagged along behind them,
my thoughts in a whirl. When we got back to Santa Cruz, life might be different from before, or it might be the same. With Babbas, who could ever tell?

Stephen arrived at lunchtime, and he and Athena took their usual spots in the front booth to hash out ideas for the sitcom. Their conversation of the day focused on Brock, who was set to arrive on the island next Saturday, along with other cast members from
Stars Collide
. My stomach churned as I thought about it.

Then again, my stomach churned for a variety of reasons. I missed Alex. Missed him terribly. And if I missed him this badly now, what would I feel like later, after moving a couple thousand miles away?

I snuck into the kitchen around noontime to call him. He picked up on the second ring. “Cassia!”

“Alex, I just needed to hear your voice.” I shifted the phone to my other ear and reached for a rag to wipe the tzatziki sauce off my hands.

“Same here.” He sighed so loudly that I felt it down to my core. “That's why I called earlier.”

“You called me? I must've missed it.”

“Yeah.” The tone of his voice changed. “You, um, didn't listen to the message then?”

“Message?” Ugh. I'd missed that somehow too.

“Yeah, I left you a pretty detailed one. That's why I thought you were calling, actually. You, um, might want to listen to it.”

At this point Babbas called my name, asking for a tray of baklava to be brought to the front, and I knew my phone call must come to an end. “I hate to do this, Alex, but—”

“Right. You have to go. I hear your dad.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“No problem. Just listen to the message, okay?”

“Will do.”

After ending the call, I slipped the phone into my pocket and carried the tray of baklava to the front of the store. The next hour was spent taking care of the crowd. Man, did we have customers or what? I didn't even have time to grab a bite to eat.

Finally, around three o'clock, things slowed down and I remembered Alex's comment about leaving a message. I walked outside with a rag in my hand to clean the outside tables, then reached for my phone and pushed the button to retrieve the message from Alex.

His soothing voice calmed my nerves at once, and the Texas twang seemed richer than before as the message began. Not that the method of delivery mattered. No, all that mattered was the impassioned speech—his words of affection for me, his pleas for me to stay in Galveston so that we could grow our relationship into something that would last a lifetime.

My heart thump-thumped as I listened. Just to be sure I'd heard it right, I played the message again. Yep. Same passion. Same delicious phrases.

Oh. My. Goodness.

Through the glass, Babbas gestured for me to come inside. He obviously needed me for something.

But I couldn't go in just yet. Not now. Not when Alex's emotionally charged “I love you, Cassia” tickled my ear and set my heart ablaze with emotion.

I know it was silly of me, but I couldn't help it. I whispered the words “I love you too” to my now-silent phone,
then pulled it to my chest and burst into tears, my heart torn into pieces.

Seconds later I felt someone standing behind me. I turned to discover Mama and Athena had joined me.

“Cassia?” Mama's eyes filled with concern. “Are you all right?”

“Y-yes. N-no!”

“What's happened?” Athena asked.

“I-I just had a message from Alex. He—” I dissolved into tears but then managed to spit out, “He doesn't want me to leave. And I don't want to go either.” I glanced at Mama, filled with shame. “I mean, I want to be with the family, but the idea of leaving him is . . . is . . .”

“Is killing you.” Mama nodded and put her hand on my arm. “I know that feeling well, sweet girl.” She gestured to a nearby table. “Can we sit a minute and talk?”

“Of course.”

I tried to get my emotions under control, then the three of us settled into chairs and waited for a group of tourists to pass by before speaking. From across the street, the smell of pizza filled the air as the door to Parma John's opened and several customers walked out. Bella stepped out onto the sidewalk and glanced our way. She gave me a curious look as I dabbed at my eyes with a napkin.

“I'm coming over there,” she called out. “I don't care what anyone says.” She bravely marched into the street and straight toward us. Well, after dodging the silver SUV with the irate driver.

I could only imagine what Babbas must be thinking. Surely he was watching all of this through the window. But he didn't come outside, thank goodness.

Bella settled into the only remaining empty chair at our table and gazed at me with growing intensity. “What have I missed?”

“Cassia doesn't want to go back to California,” Mama said.

“Well, that's good.” Bella slapped the table with her hands. “Because I don't want you to go.”

“And I don't want you to either.” These words came from Mama, who stood and paced the sidewalk. “In fact, I don't want any of us to go.”

“W-what?” I shook my head. “Babbas is doing all of this because he thinks you want to go back.”

“Ugh! This is all my fault.” Athena leaned her head on the table. “I should never have told him that we wanted his input on the show. That's what gave him the idea in the first place. But he certainly doesn't need to be in California for that to happen.”

“No, Cassia is right. I'm sure this decision of his isn't so much about the show as it is about me.” Mama stopped and fussed with a stack of napkins on the table. “He's making a noble gesture because he thinks it's right for me. But now I've painted myself into a corner. I don't want to go, but neither do I want to stay if he's still intent on making a fool of himself to grow this business. I can't bear the idea of arguing with the neighbors all the time. I've lived too long like that.”

“He seems to be getting nicer,” I said. “Maybe it will stick.”

Mama laughed. “I love you for thinking that, Cassia. Your father is a good man, and I do believe the Lord can bring about changes, but Babbas is also a good marketer. He wants to make Super-Gyros the best it can be. Every man wants that for his family—a stable life, I mean.”

“So you don't want to go but you don't want to stay?” I shook my head. “I'm confused.”

“I want to give the man a wake-up call,” she said. “This situation between our two families has to be resolved once and for all.”

“I agree,” Bella said. “But Uncle Laz is a stubborn old coot. He still wants his business to be number one on the island. He handed over the reins to my oldest brother years ago but then took them back. That's how insecure he is.”