Santorini Sunsets (28 page)

“I never would have thought…” Francis stumbled.

“It made me realize that even though losing the baby was heartbreaking, there was something much worse.” Sydney looked at Francis and her lips trembled. “Losing the man I love most in the world.”

Francis clenched his hands and paced around the room. He poured another glass of scotch and took a long gulp.

“I have to admit this is terribly hard, but life is full of twists and turns. Sometimes you are on top of the world and things happen that you can't imagine. But as long as you have the most important thing, you can get through the rest.” He walked over to Sydney. “You are beautiful and gracious and the best wife and mother I could ask for.” He paused and a small smile lit up his face. “We have two daughters to marry off and grandchildren to look forward to, and I couldn't do any of it without you.”

“Neither could I.” Sydney felt the air leave her lungs.

“We still have time before the rehearsal dinner.” He touched her arm. “Why don't we go upstairs and try to forget about my bad knee and the new gray in our hair?”

“And be late to Amoudi Bay?” Sydney asked.

“We won't be late,” he whispered. “I'll take a very quick shower.”

*   *   *

Sydney sat at the dressing table and brushed her cheeks with powder. She rubbed her lips with red lipstick and dabbed her wrists with Chanel No. 5 perfume.

She gazed at the rumpled bed and towels strewn on the wood floor and shivered. It had been wonderful to climb into bed with Francis. It had been glorious to feel his thighs between her legs and not wonder about the young woman in the navy dress.

But as soon as Francis got up to put on his dinner jacket, Sydney remembered Robbie and Oliver and the villa in Provence. Even if Francis knew the truth, what about Brigit and Daisy? Their trust in Sydney would be ruined if they discovered she'd had an affair.

She'd told Francis she couldn't find her favorite earrings and to go ahead to the rehearsal dinner without her. Now she straightened the bedspread and wondered if she should confront Robbie and beg him to keep her secret.

She walked down the circular staircase and heard a knock at the door.

“Robbie!” She opened the door. “This is a surprise, Nathaniel isn't here. Everyone is at Amoudi Bay.”

“I wasn't looking for Nathaniel,” Robbie said.

He wore a white dinner jacket and tan slacks. His hair was neatly brushed and his silver camera was slung over his shoulder.

“You weren't?” Sydney stammered. She walked into the living room and began straightening magazines and arranging flowers.

“I was looking for Daisy,” Robbie explained, following her into the living room.

“Daisy!” Sydney exclaimed. “I didn't know you were friends.”

“She showed me her sketches.” He nodded. “She's quite talented.”

“Do you think so?” Sydney asked. “I think they're gorgeous, she has a wonderful eye for color.”

“Daisy is very special,” Robbie said. “She's beautiful and intelligent and self-effacing.”

Sydney looked at Robbie and her heart raced. Could Robbie be attracted to Daisy? What if he told Daisy he'd met Sydney ten years ago and she'd had an affair with his roommate?

“Have you and Daisy become close?” Sydney asked.

“She's focused on the wedding.” Robbie shrugged. “I took some photos of her at the hot springs and thought she might like to see them.”

“It must be wonderful to travel to different places and take photographs for a living.” Sydney twisted her hands.

“I studied history at Oxford. I love to read but I have a terrible memory,” Robbie explained. “I memorized the names of Henry VIII's wives for hours and couldn't remember them when I took the test.”

“Is that so?” Sydney looked up.

“I've always been that way.” Robbie grinned. “But with photography all your memories are stored in the camera. I hope I help people remember important moments with my photographs.”

“It's getting late.” Sydney glanced at her watch. “If we don't leave for the rehearsal dinner, the fried tomato balls will be gone.”

“Would you like to walk together?” Robbie asked.

“I still have things to do.” She held out her hand. “It was lovely talking to you. I'll tell Daisy to find you at the rehearsal dinner.”

Sydney waited until Robbie had walked through the gate and then gathered her purse.

If Robbie had a bad memory, would he remember a woman he'd met in a French bistro a decade ago? He had been twenty years old and in a foreign country. He must have met a dozen new people a day. It was all in the past and she had nothing to worry about.

She ran down the steps and opened the gate of the villa. The sky was a liquid orange and the ocean was turquoise and she thought the colors had never been brighter. She hurried down the gravel path and couldn't wait to join Francis and Daisy at Brigit and Blake's rehearsal dinner.

 

Chapter Twenty-one

B
RIGIT GLANCED UP
at the red cliffs and white windmills and lacquered window boxes. She saw the circular inlet and chipped fishing boats and thought they couldn't have picked a more romantic spot for the rehearsal dinner.

Taverna Katina had sliding glass doors facing the ocean. A long wooden table was set with a peach linen tablecloth and white bone china. Chairs were covered with green damask and twinkling lights hung from the ceiling.

Brigit admired the gleaming silverware and flickering candles and thought the room looked stunning. She had wanted to talk to Blake about everything but they had to make sure the French champagne was chilled and there was enough caviar.

She fiddled with her pink and white diamond bracelet and thought there would be plenty of time to talk to Blake after dinner.

“You have outdone yourself,” a male voice said. “The baklava is sweet as honey and melts in your mouth.”

Brigit turned around and saw Nathaniel wearing a black dinner jacket and white bow tie. His blond hair was freshly washed and his cheeks glistened with aftershave.

“I hope you haven't gone into the kitchen and eaten all the dessert,” Brigit said.

“I was making sure the chef did a good job,” Nathaniel explained. “I don't want your guests complaining the baklava is sticky or the fava beans are lumpy.”

“I chose the menu,” Brigit said hotly. “The tavern is owned by an old lady named Katina. She does all the cooking.”

“I met her in the kitchen.” Nathaniel nodded. “I said I was worried the bride was too thin and she promised to serve you an extra portion of shrimp risotto.” He gazed at Brigit's pink Prada dress and beige pumps. “I was wrong, you don't look thin at all. You're positively glowing.”

“I had a restful afternoon.” Brigit blushed.

“Getting married agrees with you, you should do it more often.” Nathaniel popped a cherry tomato in his mouth. “Next time try Capri, the pizza is the best in Italy.”

“There won't be a next time,” Brigit snapped. “Blake and I are working everything out.”

“I'm glad.” Nathaniel fiddled with his cuff links. “Dressing for weddings can be tedious, it took me half an hour to fasten my cuff links.”

“You didn't have to get dressed up,” Brigit said.

“People trust you more as a journalist if you blend in,” he explained. “Do you remember two hours before our rehearsal dinner, I discovered I'd left my gold cuff links at the apartment in Manhattan? You said you didn't mind, but I knew you'd never look at the photos if my shirt cuffs were undone.”

“You hired a messenger and had them delivered to Summerhill,” Brigit said. “The cuff links arrived at the same time as the photographer.”

“I wanted everything about our wedding weekend to be perfect,” Nathaniel mused. “The rehearsal dinner in my parents' gazebo and the ceremony and reception on the lawn at Summerhill.

“An hour before the ceremony it started raining and the wedding planner panicked. But then the sky cleared and the grass was bright green. It was like a scene in a Monet painting.”

“It was lovely,” Brigit agreed.

“We did our best. We can't cry over spilled milk.” Nathaniel shrugged. “Do you remember when we were five years old and you had a wooden puzzle with triangles and rectangles and squares? I kept trying to fit the circular block into the square and it didn't work.

“You took it out of my hand and placed it where it belonged.” He paused. “You're all grown up and have figured out how to solve your own puzzle.”

“I have to go.” Brigit's eyes were bright. “My father is making a speech.”

Nathaniel reached into his pocket and brought out a piece of paper. “I wrote a toast.”

“A toast?” she repeated.

“I am a writer.” He shrugged. “But then I realized your ex-husband shouldn't give a toast at your wedding. Keep it and read it later.” He glanced at a passing waiter. “If you'll excuse me, I'm going to get a glass of Dom Pérignon.”

“You promised you wouldn't get drunk and cause trouble,” Brigit fumed.

“I'm not fifteen, I'm hardly going to get smashed from a couple of glasses of French champagne.” He paused. “It is the rehearsal dinner. It's only polite to toast the bride and groom.”

*   *   *

Brigit gazed around the restaurant and saw Daisy wearing a patterned chiffon dress and gold sandals. Her eyelashes were coated with thick mascara and she wore diamond teardrop earrings. She noticed her father in a white dinner jacket and black slacks. His cheeks glistened with aftershave and he looked like Gregory Peck. She glanced at the door and saw her mother enter wearing a silver Carolina Herrera gown. Her blond hair bounced at her shoulders and she wore a sapphire pendant.

Suddenly she remembered when Blake had stepped onto the podium at the St. Regis gala. She pictured his green eyes and wide smile and how she knew he was only looking at her.

Who would have imagined six months later they would be getting married on a Greek island? She tucked the piece of paper into her purse and thought she wasn't going to worry about Nathaniel getting drunk and ruining the rehearsal dinner. She smoothed her skirt and crossed the room to join Blake.

*   *   *

Daisy opened the sliding glass doors of the taverna and stood on the balcony. The sky was black velvet and tall sailboats bobbed in the harbor.

The stuffed artichoke had been delicious and the red snapper was the best she'd ever tasted. She'd nibbled purple asparagus and listened to her father's speech and felt light and happy. But then someone had asked her to make a toast and she'd pushed her chair back from the table.

“I thought I'd find you out here.” Robbie appeared beside her. “It's too warm to stay indoors.”

“The dinner was wonderful,” Daisy said. “I just needed some air.”

“Amoudi Bay is one of the best swimming spots in Santorini.” Robbie rested his elbows on the railing. “The weekend is almost over and there are so many things to do: take the cable car to Oia and visit wineries and fava bean farms.”

“I didn't come to Santorini to go sightseeing,” Daisy said tightly.

“It's a shame not to see as much as possible before you go back to New York,” he insisted. “I'm going to hike to Megalochori tomorrow night to watch the sunrise and wondered if you'd join me. We'd be back in plenty of time for the ceremony.”

“I don't want to go on a hike with you.” Her cheeks flushed.

“You came to the hot springs,” Robbie stammered. “I thought…”

“I was trying to give Brigit time alone.” Daisy's eyes flashed. “In two days I'm going home and you're taking another woman to Mykonos and Crete. You've been very kind but I don't need new friends.” She walked to the entrance. “If you don't mind, I'd rather you leave me alone.”

Daisy strode to the bar and grabbed a champagne flute. She hadn't meant to be rude but she couldn't bear being around Robbie knowing he was leaving with another woman.

She turned and saw the woman with the blond chignon and British accent. She wore a red silk dress and emerald earrings.

“You're the bride's sister, we met on the yacht.” The woman held out her hand. “We weren't officially introduced. I'm Geraldine.”

“It's nice to meet you.” Daisy clutched her champagne flute. “I hope you're enjoying the dinner.”

“Robbie told me all about you,” Geraldine continued. “You are a dress designer and your sketches are fabulous. Send me a note when you stage your first fashion show, I'd love to come.”

“I'll try to remember,” Daisy murmured.

“Here's my card, I adore fashion.” She reached into her purse. “Whenever I travel, my husband is terrified I'll come home with a whole new wardrobe. The last time we visited Milan I had to buy two new suitcases.”

Daisy froze and could hardly swallow.

“Your husband?”

“He broke his leg playing polo and his doctor won't let him fly,” she explained. “At least that's what he said, Scott hates to travel. He's one of those Englishmen who can't stand foreign airports. He'd be perfectly happy if we took all our holidays in Brighton or at his parents' castle in Scotland.”

“But you're going to Mykonos and Crete with Robbie,” Daisy stammered.

“Robbie and Scott are cousins,” she explained. “Scott is relieved I'm traveling with Robbie, he'll make sure I don't bring home a priceless Greek artifact.” She frowned. “Though I don't see the point in visiting exotic destinations if you can't buy a souvenir.”

Daisy sipped the champagne and felt almost giddy. She hurried to the terrace and saw Robbie walking along the beach.

“You didn't take my card,” Geraldine called.

“Don't worry.” Daisy's face lit up in a smile. “Robbie will tell me how to find you.”