Return to Cancún (7 page)

The stewardess pulled the cart up and leaned
over them. “Chicken piccata or vegetarian lasagna?” she asked with
the kind of plastered on smile that you knew would disappear if you
failed to answer promptly.

“I’ll brave the chicken,” Vicky said. The
stewardess looked at Terra, her eyebrows lifting higher than seemed
possible. “Nothing for me,” Terra said.

“She’ll have the lasagna,” Vicky said. “And
two margaritas.” The frozen smile nearly cracked. “Just kidding,
love. But we’ll have a couple of those cute little bottles of
chardonnay.”

Vicky ate while Terra pushed her food around
and sipped wine. Vicky was going on and on about the details of the
wedding. It had become something of a nervous habit. It was the
same stuff Terra had heard a number of times before, but it was her
job to nod and say “uh huh” in the right places.

“It will be great having all the men in loose
khaki suits and barefoot. I mean if you’re getting married on the
beach, what’s the point of shoes? Casual but classy,” she said, now
on autopilot.

“Uh huh.”

“And I’m just taking your word for it that
this guy Soren is good enough to take pictures. I know you said
he’s an amateur photographer, but I have my doubts. He’s the lady
killer you told me about, right?”

“Umm.”

“So he’s got other priorities. Not a good
sign.”

Terra began to drift off. Everything seemed
to be moving both fast and slow at the same time. She found herself
needing to mentally go back and relive many of the things that had
happened in the last year, afraid that if she didn’t they would be
lost forever. She wanted to bottle all the precious moments, least
they fade away like footprints at low tide. It was usually the
memory of Nik’s voice that would trigger it. As Vicky went on and
on, now talking about their backup plan in case it rained, Terra
could hear Nik’s voice saying, “Terra, this is my mother, Maia.” It
was almost exactly one year ago, she realized.

They had taken a taxi from the airport to
Nik’s parents house in Voula, a wealthy area on the coast, south of
Athens, Greece. By the time they arrived, Terra felt like a walking
disaster—dirty, tired, and nervous. The last shower she had was
from an irrigation hose on the side of the road back in Cancun. The
house—palace was more like it—was not at all what she expected. Nik
talked about his family, but never mentioned anything about them
being rich.

The house was spread out over the side of a
hill, overlooking the Aegean Sea. The cab dropped them off on the
wide circular driveway that arched across the front. When Terra got
out, she turned in a circle, mouth agape. The house, made of
whitewashed stone, was three stories high. The manicured grounds it
sat on were as large as a college campus. Terra stood, squinting in
the sunlight, stunned.

“Your parents live here?” she asked. It never
even occurred to her that Nik came from a wealthy family. As far as
she knew, the only things he owned were books, diving equipment,
and a motorcycle.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling her
backpack from the trunk of the cab. “This is the house I grew up
in.” He took her hand and pulled her toward the front door. The
door mysteriously opened for them, revealing a servant dressed in a
black kimono, who greeted Nik with a formal nod.
“
Nikolaos
,” he said.

Inside, the entry way was white marble, with
a wide, sweeping staircase that curved gracefully up, disappearing
into the floor above. The ceiling was so high it reminded Terra of
a museum. Beyond the entry was a large archway that led to a wide,
sunken living room area with plush white carpet. Terra could see a
high wall of windows beyond that overlooked the ocean.

Just coming in from the bright sunlight,
Terra’s eyes took a moment to adjust. There was someone standing in
the archway. A figure. Tall and elegant, in a blue and gold wrap
dress. She began to come into focus.

Nik took Terra by the arm and guided her
closer to the figure, her tennis shoes squeaking on the marble
floor. She felt so dirty from their traveling she thought she might
be leaving a trail. Her hair was a mess and she still had traces of
mud on her from their long trip out of Cancun, which now felt like
a world away.

Feeling like road kill, Terra looked at the
still figure and tried to compose herself. The statuesque woman had
steely green eyes and ink black hair. She looked at Terra like she
was something that needed to be disposed of as quickly as
possible.

“Terra, this is my mother, Maia,” Nik
said…

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