Page 59 of Derek

“I think so. I only bring it up because you said Angie stalked you, and she’s here in Kansas City now. Maybe I’m seeing things from nerves over meeting your family.”

“I hardly think that would produce hallucinations. Let’s not spoil our day. I’ll keep a close eye out when we leave.”

A teenage girl appeared at the door, her dark hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. Her olive-toned skin was smooth, not a blemish in sight, and her long legs only added to the effortless confidence in her stance. But it was her eyes that stood out the most—big, dark, and framed by thick lashes. “Hi, Uncle Derek. You’re late, or maybe everyone else is early. Nobody wanted to miss the arrival of you and your friend.”

“Happy Thanksgiving, Emily. This is Sonja Madden.”

Sonja extended her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Emily. Happy Thanksgiving.”

Emily shook Sonja’s hand and returned the greeting. She led them into a two-story entry that opened into a formal living room on the left and a dining area on the right. An elegantly set table was visible from where Sonja stood. Emily turned to her uncle. “Everyone’s in the back of the house, as usual. Please come through, Ms. Madden.”

“Please, Emily, call me Sonja. I’m not used to formality.”

“Right there, Uncle Derek, that shows she’s an improvement over the whack job you brought from St. Louis the year before last.” She turned toward Sonja. “She insisted we kids call her Miss Mendoza.” Emily said ‘Miss Mendoza’ in a prissy voice that had Sonja struggling to contain a laugh.

“Emily, you know better than to speak that way about someone, even if it is true.” A woman had come into the entryway where they were standing.

“Thank you, Maya. I was just about to say the same thing,” Derek said. “This is my friend, Sonja Madden. Sonja, this is my baby sister, Maya Rivers.”

“A pleasure to meet you. Please call me Maya. Happy Thanksgiving. Please come in. Emily, take Ms. Madden’s coat and your uncle’s while you’re at it.”

“So good to meet you, Maya, and I’m Sonja to everyone,” Sonja said. “I brought pies for dinner. Maybe you could show me where to take them?”

Another woman, much older, appeared from the same direction from which Maya had come. “Derek, what are you doing keeping your friend standing here like this?”

“Mamá, they just got here. No one is keeping anyone standing anywhere,” Maya said. “We were heading toward the kitchen. Derek’s friend brought pie.”

Derek interrupted before the two women could say more. “Mamá, this is my very good friend, Sonja Madden. Sonja, this is my mother, Ekaterina Kiriakis, the matriarch of the family.”

“Please, you must call me Ekaterina. Come in, come in. Let me get a good look at you.”

“Thank you, Ekaterina. Thank you so much for having me,” Sonja said as she went further into the house. She stopped in the center, giving everyone a chance to admire her red Marilyn Monroe dress, made more modest by a matching shrug that covered her shoulders and back.

“She’s beautiful, Derek,” Ekaterina said. “You should have brought her sooner.” She turned to Sonja. “What kind of pies have you brought us?”

“Sweet potato. It’s a family tradition. I hope you like them.”

“I’m sure they’re wonderful, dear. Come through to the back of the house and meet everyone else.”

Emily vanished with their coats, and Derek and Sonja followed Ekaterina and Maya through the dining room into a spacious kitchen. Maya took the box of pies and put it on the counter. A younger version of Ekaterina clapped her hands in command. “Get our guest a glass of wine and some for your uncle, too, Christina.”

She turned to Sonja. “I am Sophia. You must be Sonja. Welcome to my home. I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the door. I was taking the moussaka out of the oven. You’ve met Emily, my youngest. This is Christina, who is getting your drink. Here is Maya’s daughter, Trina. She was just taking the men more food.”

Christina brought over two glasses of red wine, setting one in front of Sonja with a warm smile. A moment later, Trina placed a plate between them, small, dark green rolls arranged neatly on a dish.

Derek reached for one, but before he could grab it, Ekaterina shooed him away with a wave of her hand. “Derek, take yourself to join the men. You’re just in the way here.”

He chuckled, lifting his hands in surrender as he backed toward the next room, where a football game played on a massive screen.

Sonja picked up one of the rolls, turning it over between her fingers. “What is this?”

“Dolmades,” Christina said, sipping her wine. “They’re stuffed vine leaves, a classic dish.”

Vine leaves? Sonja hesitated for only a second before popping one into her mouth, letting the flavors unfold. The first thing that hit her was the bright tang of lemon, light but unmistakable. Then came a subtle briny note, not overpowering but enough to make her think of olives. The filling was soft, packed with herbs that blended in a way she couldn’t quite separate—something fresh and green, a hint of something earthy.

“Oh wow.” She blinked, savoring the lingering mix of flavors. “What’s in this? I’ve never tasted anything like it. It’s fabulous.”

“Thank you,” Maya said, smiling with obvious pride. “It’s my own recipe. I use pine nuts and just a little minced chicken, along with rice and herbs.”

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