Samantha Parks - The Summer House in Santorini

The airport itself wasn’t much to look at. Anna wasn’t sure what she was expecting – a whitewashed stone building with a blue-painted roof and a cross on top, perhaps? – but she was expecting more grandeur than what she saw as she entered the terminal. The building was white, but that was about the only part of it that met her expectations.

Anna was running through in her mind the different ways in which she could introduce herself to her grandparents. “Hi, Mr and Mrs Xenakis. I know we’ve never met, but I’m your granddaughter, here to sell your summer house out from under you. Hope that’s cool.”

She’d have to work on that one. Maybe a drink would help.

According to a quick Google search (her international data charges would be through the roof when she got back, but she would manage), the address her sister Lizzy had given her for her grandfather was only about a mile and a half away as the crow flies, but it would take Anna nearly half an hour on a bus to get there, as walking with her three bags was out of the question. So as she went through Immigration – which was incredibly relaxed – she began looking for signs pointing to the buses. Or maybe she’d get to ride a donkey? She remembered seeing in a film once that tourists got to ride donkeys up and down the steep steps, and she started mentally counting her euros to determine if she’d have enough for a donkey ride and lunch. How much was a donkey ride, anyway? Five euros? Fifty? She only had fifty with her, so she hoped it was less. Riding a donkey sounded… well, not exactly appealing, but appropriate.

As she walked through Arrivals, she skimmed over some of the signs being held up for people by their drivers, but there was only one sign that made her do a double-take – in big block letters on a piece of cardboard, it said: “LINTON”.

The man holding the sign stood out from the others as well, not because he looked familiar, but because he was a head taller than everyone else around him. His thick dark hair fell to just above his shoulders, though the top half was tied back away from his face. His arms were lean but visibly strong, and the contours of his muscular chest were visible through his white tee shirt. He wore khaki pants that were covered in paint. Not your typical car-driver’s uniform, but Anna instantly thought of her grandfather’s construction company and began to wonder if the man really could be there for her. But no one knew she was coming… did they?

The man waved as Anna walked nearer. So maybe he was there for her. Or was he just flirting? If she was being honest, Anna wasn’t sure which she preferred.

“You’re Anna?” he asked when she was close enough. He knew her name. Damn, not flirting. At least she was getting a ride, though.

“Yeah, that’s me,” she said, sticking out her hand. The man shook it, his long fingers wrapping firmly around her own, and Anna had to remind herself how a handshake worked. “I didn’t realize I was getting picked up.”

The man didn’t respond; he just tucked the sign under his arm and started walking away, so Anna followed.

“You don’t look half-Greek,” the man said without turning around.

“Well, I am,” Anna said, rolling her eyes. What did it matter? Half the people in the airport were white and blonde. “Who told you to come pick me up?”

“I work for your grandfather,” he said, shoving the sign into a bin as they walked past before carrying on.

Apparently that would have to do for an explanation, as he didn’t offer any further insight as to how they knew she was coming. Anna replaced her sunglasses as they went outside, ready for the brightness this time, but the heat still caught her off guard.

“Your English is really good,” she said, hobbling behind him as he walked.

“I went to university in London,” he replied without turning around.

He kept walking past the cars waiting out front, and Anna figured his car must be in one of the parking areas further on. She struggled to keep up, her duffel bag hitting the backs of her legs, her handbag strap straining against her shoulder and her heels catching on her roller bag as she did a funny little run/walk behind him.

After a couple minutes of walking in silence, him a few paces ahead of her with her legs moving in double-time to keep up, Anna had become confused. They had now walked past the turnoff to the parking areas, assuming a big “P” meant parking in Greece as well. In fact, they were headed out of the airport grounds altogether.

“Um, sorry, but where are we going?”

He looked back at her over his shoulder, his eyebrows pressed together and his mouth in a half-smile, an amused look on his face. “To meet your grandparents, obviously.”

“Yeah, but where is your car?”

He laughed. “So sorry, Princess Anna, no car service for you.”

Anna frowned, and the man pointed ahead to a bus stop. Dozens of other people were huddled outside.

“I could have taken the bus by myself,” she said, hoisting her slipping duffel bag back over her shoulder.

He simply shrugged.

At that moment, a bus appeared around the corner. They were still a couple hundred meters away.

“Give me your bag,” he said. “We have to run.”

Anna felt a bead of sweat drip down her back and shook her head. “No way. Not in this heat.” But she handed over her duffel bag anyway, thankful for the lightening of her load and a bit offended he hadn’t offered sooner.

He took the bag and sped up. “No, really, we have to run or we’ll miss the bus!”

“Then we’ll catch the next one!”

“No, we won’t,” he said insistently. “There isn’t another one for over an hour, and I am not waiting around until then.” And then he took off running as the bus stopped, leaving Anna behind.

Anna pulled her small suitcase up by the handle and started running after him. She wasn’t about to walk – or wait, for that matter – by herself in this heat.

The people who had been waiting by the stop were pushing onto the bus at an impressive rate, and Anna wished they’d get on more slowly to buy her some time. The man who was escorting her had already disappeared into the crowd, but Anna was still too far away. She pushed herself as fast as her legs could move her, her suitcase awkwardly bashing against her side with every step. She ignored it, willing herself forward. She had to make this bus.

But she wasn’t so lucky. When she was still fifty meters away at least, the bus pulled away, leaving behind it a cloud of dust.

Anna stopped running and bent over, half in devastation at missing the bus and half to catch her breath. She couldn’t believe he had left her alone after specifically telling her she couldn’t navigate it alone! She also had no idea where to go next. He even had one of her bags. She pulled her phone out of her purse and checked her cell signal. Despite having full bars at the airport, out here there was basically nothing. Not enough to pull up directions to the house, anyway. She was officially stranded.

But as the cloud of dust cleared, she saw a figure standing by the bus stop, holding a pink duffel bag. It was her escort.

“You waited for me!” she called, amazed but smiling, then noticed his face was stern.

“You made us miss the bus,” he said, his frown set so deeply that Anna now couldn’t picture a different facial expression on him.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but he pushed past her and began walking down the road, leaving her duffel bag behind. Anna grabbed it and followed, struggling once again to keep up.

After half a mile, she began to realize that they were going to walk all the way to the house like this. She called out a couple of times to ask for help with her bags, but her escort continued to ignore her, keeping twenty meters or so between them, even when she tried to close the gap. So all Anna could do was trudge on.