Page 37 of Willow in the Wind

Or maybe he had a Greek girlfriend he was meeting in Athens now.

When James put his notebook away, Stella pondered what to ask him. She ached for his attention.

But before she could, he turned to look at her. “What do you say, Stella Sutton? You want to grab a drink when we get to town?”

Stella agreed.

“But I don’t have much money,” she admitted, explaining the thing about the bank card.

“We don’t need much cash in Athens,” James said. “It’s cheap as all get-out. We’re gonna have the night of our lives.”

Stella hoped she was ready.

They got off the bus and paraded through the streets of Athens. It was nine thirty and dark, but the city sizzled with life, and restaurants were full and bursting with people. Musicians played guitars on the streets, and people were dancing. It was an entirely different culture than the one Stella had left behind on the East Coast. She couldn’t get enough.

“You hungry?” James asked although they hadn’t gotten a drink yet. “I’m starving!”

Stella admitted she was. She followed him into a little taverna filled with Greek people and zero tourists. James explained, “That’s how you know it’s good.”

“It’s the same in Nantucket,” Stella said. “We keep some things for ourselves and don’t share them with the tourists.”

James ordered them wine and what felt like half the menu. There weren’t prices listed, and Stella was terrified that she couldn’t afford it, but James kept insisting that it was fine and would be a steal compared to Nantucket. He turned out to be right. Although they ate feta and beans and lamb and spinach pies and stuffed grape leaves and had glass after glass of wine, their bill was no more than fifteen US dollars. Stella couldn’t believe it.

“Tell me, Stella Sutton,” James said over a shot of ouzo. “Why did you pick Athens for your solo trip? Most people pick Paris or Rome.”

“I suppose I wanted an adventure,” Stella admitted. “And my uncle Victor once told me Athens is one of the last places on earth where they really know how to celebrate.”

James’s eyes sparkled. “What are we celebrating?”

Stella considered this. “I just graduated from college, I guess.”

James raised his glass. “Wonderful! Yamas!”

“Yamas?”

“It means cheers in Greek,” James said with a wink.

“What are you celebrating?” Stella asked.

“What’s not to celebrate? We’re alive, aren’t we?” James got his wallet from his pocket and pulled out enough money to pay for everything.

Stella protested and reached for her bag. “I have a little bit of money.”

“You can get me later,” James said. “Let’s go to the next place.”

Stella and James raced off into the night. They bobbed from bar to bar, chatting with locals and drinking Mythos, a light Greek beer. The temperature was hot—maybe ninety degrees despite the late hour—and Stella felt as though she was floating.

At the third bar, a Greek man grabbed both Stella and James by the shoulders, looked them in the eye, and said, “You will be married soon.”

Stella burst into laughter. James wore a funny grin.

“I am an oracle,” the man explained. “I see it, and I know. You will be married soon, and you will be very happy.”

James turned to look Stella in the eye. “You hear that, darling?”

Stella couldn’t stop laughing. She’d begun to imagine her life with James. Maybe they’d stay here in Greece. Perhaps they’d get married next to an ancient, crumbling building. Maybe they’d take shots of the ouzo and have their own goat, and their children would speak Greek as their first language.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

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