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Authors: Helen Nielsen
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about thirteen who spoke rapidly in Greek. She smiled and patted him on the shoulder. Then she scolded in Greek and he answered haughtily. She laughed and looked back at Brad.
“I said that he shouldn’t have come out without a jacket and he said that I’m not his mother. How do you like that? No respect!”
“What do you expect of young people these days?” Brad said.
She laughed and spoke to the boy in Greek again as he departed. She was radiant when she closed the door and turned to Brad. “It’s all right,” she said. “Stephanos is with his friends and everybody is safe. Shall we go now, Mr. Smith?”
Brad put his glass down on the table and moved to the door.
“I may regret this,” he said. “I’m really very fond of bread and cheese.”
Katerina drove the small car to a restaurant guaranteed to serve fine steaks. It was almost nine o’clock but most of the tables were still occupied by visiting Americans and their Greek friends. They ordered dinner and wine and listened openly to the uninhibited conversation of the jovial, well-lubricated American businessmen at the next table, who were comparing notes on their shopping expeditions. Furs, they maintained, were a good buy in Athens. Katerina nodded vigorously. Diamonds were good in Amsterdam, hats and perfumes in Paris. It was obvious that all the acquisitions were for their wives. Katerina pouted.
“Is that really all American wives want of their husbands?” she asked. “Furs, diamonds and perfumes?”
“Don’t knock it,” Brad said.
“They must be very spoiled. I don’t think I would like to be an American wife.”
“Don’t you want furs and diamonds and perfume?”
“Of course! But from a husband a woman wants more. More of his time. More of his life.”
“You would look great in furs and diamonds,” Brad insisted.
“Looks aren’t everything! It’s more important to have a mind—to be able to think.”
“Sometimes,” Brad said, enjoying the way her nose wrinkled when she was emphatic, “it’s very difficult to think.”
They bandied words through dinner, getting acquainted and having an extraordinarily good time, when a late-comer entered the restaurant and diverted Katerina’s attention. Instantly, her mood changed. Laughter left her eyes. She sat back, rigid against her chair. Brad turned to see what caused this abrupt change and found himself staring at the dapper Konstantin Koumaris, as he paused to survey the room and then walked deliberately to their table. He was not a large man; it was the uniform he wore that gave him stature. His black eyes, quick but without humour, peered out from under heavy, black brows. A carefully groomed black moustache covered his upper lip and a small scar creased one high cheekbone. He noticed Brad but his words were for Katerina.
“Katerina Brisos,” he said, without warmth, “you look lovely this evening. Have you seen your brother tonight?”
“No,” Katerina answered. “He has a date with his girl.”
“A new girl? So? Well, the young are romantic, aren’t they? I’m happy for him. Still, that was an ugly business this evening. You heard about the explosion?”
Brad noisily shoved back his chair and came to his feet. The captain seemed tall and threatening standing beside a table of seated diners. Now he reached only slightly above Brad’s shoulder, and the effect was deliberately belittling.
“Katerina has been with me all evening,” Brad said. “We’ve heard nothing unusual.”
Captain Koumaris stepped back from the table. “Then you are fortunate,” he said. “A great deal of damage was done. No lives lost, fortunately, but we are investigating, of course. But please, sit down and finish your dinners. I have no wish to spoil a charming evening.” He bowed and touched his cap, and then continued to the back of the room.
Brad resumed his seat.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“A warning,” Katerina said. “He’s the worst of the lot from what
“I said that he shouldn’t have come out without a jacket and he said that I’m not his mother. How do you like that? No respect!”
“What do you expect of young people these days?” Brad said.
She laughed and spoke to the boy in Greek again as he departed. She was radiant when she closed the door and turned to Brad. “It’s all right,” she said. “Stephanos is with his friends and everybody is safe. Shall we go now, Mr. Smith?”
Brad put his glass down on the table and moved to the door.
“I may regret this,” he said. “I’m really very fond of bread and cheese.”
Katerina drove the small car to a restaurant guaranteed to serve fine steaks. It was almost nine o’clock but most of the tables were still occupied by visiting Americans and their Greek friends. They ordered dinner and wine and listened openly to the uninhibited conversation of the jovial, well-lubricated American businessmen at the next table, who were comparing notes on their shopping expeditions. Furs, they maintained, were a good buy in Athens. Katerina nodded vigorously. Diamonds were good in Amsterdam, hats and perfumes in Paris. It was obvious that all the acquisitions were for their wives. Katerina pouted.
“Is that really all American wives want of their husbands?” she asked. “Furs, diamonds and perfumes?”
“Don’t knock it,” Brad said.
“They must be very spoiled. I don’t think I would like to be an American wife.”
“Don’t you want furs and diamonds and perfume?”
“Of course! But from a husband a woman wants more. More of his time. More of his life.”
“You would look great in furs and diamonds,” Brad insisted.
“Looks aren’t everything! It’s more important to have a mind—to be able to think.”
“Sometimes,” Brad said, enjoying the way her nose wrinkled when she was emphatic, “it’s very difficult to think.”
They bandied words through dinner, getting acquainted and having an extraordinarily good time, when a late-comer entered the restaurant and diverted Katerina’s attention. Instantly, her mood changed. Laughter left her eyes. She sat back, rigid against her chair. Brad turned to see what caused this abrupt change and found himself staring at the dapper Konstantin Koumaris, as he paused to survey the room and then walked deliberately to their table. He was not a large man; it was the uniform he wore that gave him stature. His black eyes, quick but without humour, peered out from under heavy, black brows. A carefully groomed black moustache covered his upper lip and a small scar creased one high cheekbone. He noticed Brad but his words were for Katerina.
“Katerina Brisos,” he said, without warmth, “you look lovely this evening. Have you seen your brother tonight?”
“No,” Katerina answered. “He has a date with his girl.”
“A new girl? So? Well, the young are romantic, aren’t they? I’m happy for him. Still, that was an ugly business this evening. You heard about the explosion?”
Brad noisily shoved back his chair and came to his feet. The captain seemed tall and threatening standing beside a table of seated diners. Now he reached only slightly above Brad’s shoulder, and the effect was deliberately belittling.
“Katerina has been with me all evening,” Brad said. “We’ve heard nothing unusual.”
Captain Koumaris stepped back from the table. “Then you are fortunate,” he said. “A great deal of damage was done. No lives lost, fortunately, but we are investigating, of course. But please, sit down and finish your dinners. I have no wish to spoil a charming evening.” He bowed and touched his cap, and then continued to the back of the room.
Brad resumed his seat.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“A warning,” Katerina said. “He’s the worst of the lot from what
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