Page 35 of Willow in the Wind

Not long after that, Matt, Chloe, and Mandy came in. Mandy hurried up to the table excitedly and shook Stella’s hand. “Congratulations, Stella!”

Did Mandy read the book?Stella wasn’t sure what to make of that. She wasn’t sure how much of her life she wanted to share with Mandy. It already felt like too much.

But she couldn’t stop anyone from readingThe Athens Affair.It was out there. It was public.

Gwen, the literary agent, arrived a few minutes later. She hugged Stella excitedly and said, “I knew from our first video call that you would be somebody special!” Stella figured it was easy to say that after the book had gone viral, but she still appreciated the sentiment. Gwen took a salmon puff and told Stella about the book review published that morning inThe Guardian.“You’re going to have a big international audience!” she announced. “Get ready for it!”

Stella felt as though she floated through the next hour. She talked to as many people as she could, sipped her wine, and smiled, smiled, smiled. Her face hurt.

Once, Matt walked past and squeezed her arm. “Remember to enjoy it,” he whispered. “It’ll go too fast.”

Esme announced in the mic it was time for the reading. Tears sprang to Stella’s eyes. She’d never done a reading before. Nervously, she milled back to the mic and opened the book. She’d decided to start from the beginning to set the stage for the rest of the novel and not give anything away.

She smiled out at the audience, but their faces were blurry. She hoped her voice didn’t warble.

“Good evening,” she said, sounding more confident than she felt. “I want to thank everyone for coming out to Nantucket Island, to one of my favorite places in the world, the Sutton Book Club, run by my aunt Esme.”

Stella smiled and gestured toward Esme, who blew her a kiss.

“Writing this book has been a remarkable journey of self-discovery,” she continued. “I never imagined I could write an entire novel. But my aunt Esme pushed me to tell myone big story.Most people in my life didn’t know that I had one.”

The audience chuckled knowingly.

“After I do this reading, I’ll take questions and answer everything I can,” Stella said. “Tonight, I’m an open book for you.” She wet her lips. “All right. I’ll get started. Wish me luck.”

The room quieted.

It was time to begin.

Chapter Thirteen

Athens - July 2001

The Athens airport was sweltering. A woman’s high-pitched English voice complained behind Stella, saying, “It really is a catastrophe. They can’t pack us in like sardines and expect us not to die of heatstroke.” Stella adjusted her backpack on her shoulder and shifted her weight from foot to foot. It was eight thirty p.m., and in the schedule she’d written for herself in her notebook, she was supposed to be in the hostel by now, chatting with other travelers or taking a nap after the long flight. But the airline had lost her suitcase, and the female employee behind the desk spoke in rapid Greek to a colleague she couldn’t see behind the wall and ignored Stella. Stella held the ticket for her suitcase with both hands, feeling like a child on the first day of kindergarten. She’d left her bank card in the suitcase and had very little cash with her.What am I going to do?

Suddenly, a man stood beside her at the desk. He had wild hair past his ears and dressed like a rock star with torn jeans, a black T-shirt, and a guitar slung over his shoulder. He rapped hisknuckles against the counter to get the attention of the airline clerk. “Excuse me,” he demanded in a British accent. “Don’t suppose you’ve seen the massive queue forming behind me?”

The woman cocked her head at him. Stella fixed her posture. Was he trying to cut her in line?

But then he turned to look at her and winked.

Stella’s heart raced. She thought,They don’t make guys like this in Nantucket.

“We ain’t got time to waste,” the man continued to the airline clerk. “My friend here”—he wagged his eyebrows at Stella—“has an issue that needs to be solved.”

The airline clerk puffed out her cheeks. She was accustomed to people having difficult times at the airport. That was kind of the airport’s whole deal.

“My suitcase didn’t show up,” Stella said. She handed her ticket across the counter.

“That’s right,” the British man shot. “She needs her suitcase. Don’t you see? She’s an actress here for a major motion picture. Her costumes were in that suitcase.”

Stella pursed her lips to keep from bursting into laughter.

The woman checked through the computer system, then sent her colleague away with Stella’s suitcase ticket.

“Wait here,” the woman said to Stella. “My colleague is checking for you.” She then turned her attention to the stranger. “And you? You have also lost your suitcase?”

“Not me, mate,” the man said. He then ducked away from Stella and the desk, striding out toward the darkness.

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