Samantha Parks - The Summer House in Santorini

Nearly an hour later, Anna scowled as they arrived at a big resort. Her escort still hadn’t given a word of instruction. He just strolled through the automatic glass doors and across the marbled floor to reception, whispering something to the young man behind the counter before disappearing down a hallway. This couldn’t be right.

The man at the desk looked at Anna expectantly. She walked up to the large counter, which looked like it was made out of driftwood, set her handbag down on it and dropped her duffel bag and suitcase at her feet.

“Are you here to check in?” the man asked.

“No, I’m looking for my grandfather Christos Xenakis. Does he…” Anna looked around, hesitant to ask what seemed like a silly question. “…does he live here?”

The man sneered. “Christos is a worker. A builder. Right now, he will be in the staff room, having lunch. It’s just down that hallway, last door on the right.” He pointed to an open door behind him to the left, beyond which a hallway stretched. The hallway down which her escort had disappeared.

“Can I leave my bags here?”

“Sorry,” he said, “bag drop is for guests only.” Then he picked up a walkie talkie off the desk and walked away.

What is it with nobody wanting to help me today? Anna thought. She put her handbag over her shoulder, picked up her suitcase and duffel bag, and headed toward the door. But as she came around the desk, a short Greek man came through the doorway and locked eyes with her. He had thick eyebrows, leathery skin and a giant handlebar mustache. He would have looked like a cartoon villain if it weren’t for the broad grin that was getting bigger the closer he got.

“Anna!” he shouted – loud enough that some other people in the lobby turned to look – and wrapped her in a hug, her hands still clutching her suitcase handles. This must be her grandfather. She wondered again how he knew she was coming.

“Hi, Christos,” she said, letting go of her bags and lightly patting his back.

After what Anna felt was a few seconds too long, he finally released her. He furrowed his brow and stared at her, and she touched her face to make sure there wasn’t anything on her to make him look so concerned.

“You…” he started, closing his eyes as if to focus more. Anna realized he was simply struggling to find the right words in English. “You eat?” he finally managed, petting his stomach to emphasize his meaning.

“No, I haven’t,” Anna said, shaking her head to make sure he could understand.

He smiled at her and grabbed her bags, nodding for her to follow as he headed back down the corridor.

As they went, Anna realized that she was actually quite hungry. She could go for a gyro or some hummus, or whatever Greek people actually ate for lunch? There was the smell of something delicious on the air, and it seemed familiar, though Anna couldn’t quite place it. Maybe it was something from her childhood?

As they walked through the doors, someone threw a small white package at Christos, and he dropped one of Anna’s bags to catch it. Anna looked around to see what was going on and spotted a young man throwing things to people all over the room out of a brown paper bag.

A brown paper bag with a big yellow “M” on it.

Of course she would come halfway around the world and still not be able to escape McDonald’s. Every man in the room – and they were all men – was now biting into a burger or eating fries from the distinctive red cardboard holder. Not quite what she would have imagined, but it explained the familiar smell at least, a smell now accompanied by sweat and paint.

The men were all dressed the same with the same complexion: hair so dark it was almost black, olive skin, and dark eyes with long, luscious lashes. There were a couple who were middle-aged or older like her grandfather, but the rest were all young and muscular and looked like they should be in an Olympic God of the Month calendar. She was the only woman in a room full of Adonises – not that she was complaining. But as they started to notice her, she saw that their gazes were less flirtatious, not even curious, but more annoyed. The way she would look at tourists who walked too slowly on the sidewalk in Manhattan.

From across the room, she saw her escort amidst the mass of white tee shirts, leaning against the wall and laughing at something one of the other guys had said. He was holding a burger, and, as he took a massive bite out of it, he caught her eye and winked. She felt herself tense everywhere, and her cheeks went red. She tried to remind herself of the ordeal she had endured at his hand to get here, but still she smiled when he started walking toward her.

“Hungry?” he asked as he walked up, grabbing a spare burger the delivery guy had left on the table and offering it to her.

She hadn’t eaten McDonald’s since she was a kid; her father had taken her after school a few times, but her mother had forbidden it once he’d left, and the habit had stuck once she’d moved to Manhattan. Plus, who needed fast-food restaurants when there was a twenty-four-hour falafel cart less than a block from her building? But she was hungry, so she took the burger from him and unwrapped it, relishing the smell of the salty beef as it hit her nose.

“It’s the least you can do,” she said before sinking her teeth into the burger.

“What do you mean?”

“You made me drag my bags all the way across the island, ignoring me the whole time,” she replied, her mouth full. “If I hadn’t been able to keep up, I would still be lost out there.”

He rolled his eyes. “First of all, the airport is not on the other side of the island. Second, you made it just fine, didn’t you?”

“No thanks to you,” she said, but she smiled despite herself. “I’m Anna,” she said, sticking out her hand.

“I know, I picked you up from the airport,” he said, shaking his head.

Anna retracted her hand. “I remember, but I was giving you a chance to introduce yourself properly.”

“Ah, okay,” he said, wiping his hand on his pants before extending it. Based on their state, Anna wasn’t sure it would do any good. “Nikolas Doukas.”

Anna swapped her burger to her left hand and shook Nikolas’s hand with her right. She felt the same tension as she had at the airport, but she managed to shake hands fairly naturally this time. “Nice to meet you, Nikolas,” she replied, trying her best to emulate the accent in which he pronounced his name.

He chuckled in response.

“What?”

“For someone who’s half-Greek, your accent is terrible,” he said.

“Well, what am I supposed to do about that?”

“You can call me Nikos. Everybody else does.”

“Nikos,” she said, much more naturally. “How’s that?”

“Much better.” He was still holding her hand, and he shook it again. “Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t help you with your bags. Here in Greece, our women can carry their own luggage.”

“Yeah, because Greece is so famous for its progressive feminism,” Anna said, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, well, we’re making up for lost time,” Nikos said, tilting his head. “You’re here about the summer house, right?”

“Yeah, just to get it signed over and maybe on the market.”

Nikos chuckled. “On the market? In a week? You’ll certainly have your work cut out for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see,” Nikos said with a dismissive wave. “Tomorrow is my day off. I’ll come by and help you out.”

Anna nodded. “I don’t know how much help I’ll need, but sure. You can make up for today.”

Nikos laughed and nodded. “I have to get back to work in a moment, but help yourself to some more food. Kostas brought more than enough with him.” Then he touched her lightly on the shoulder and left.