Page 20 of Footprints in the Sand
“Eva?” her boss, Melanie, began. “I wanted to check in with you.”
“What is going on?” Eva asked. “Fraud? I mean, why? How?” It felt like the last thing she’d been counting on in her life was crumbling in her hands.
Melanie touched her temples. “It’s going to get much worse before it gets better. If we’re going to survive this, we need to put out a statement sooner rather than later. Are you ready to put something together?”
“I don’t know what’s going on! I don’t know what language to use,” Eva said.
“Just say something about how we’re going to continue to strive to, like, bring about change in the fashion industry,” Melanie tried to parrot, although she didn’t know the first thing about social media. “I don’t know. We hired you to do this, remember?”
Melanie’s sharp shift surprised Eva. She took a breath.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Melanie closed her eyes. “I just need you to be cool about this, okay? I need you to do what you’re here to do.” And then her eyes widened. “I have another call. Talk to you soon.” Melanie hung up.
Eva sat dumbly in the living room, unsure where to begin. Just then, the front door opened, bringing Aphrodite and Nico in like a storm, their arms ladened with groceries. Nico flashed a smile at Eva, one that Eva didn’t know how to deal with, not now.
“There she is,” Nico said. “Our favorite unemployed American.”
Eva’s chest went hot. “I still have a job,” she said tentatively.
“Don’t bother her,” Aphrodite scolded. “I told her we’d cook, so that’s what we’ll do.”
Nico and Aphrodite disappeared into the kitchen. Next came the sound of electro beats from a little speaker and the chop-chop of a knife on a vegetable.
Eva attempted to write a few social media posts addressing Gretchen’s arrest. For nearly half an hour, she edited, deleted, and researched, trying to find a way to make this seem only 10 percent as bad as it was.
Just before she posted it, Aphrodite skidded into the living room to ask, “Did you quit?” And then she added, with a wince, “We really think you should.”
Aphrodite turned her phone around to show Eva a brand-new article that had broken just seven minutes before. In it, the Vietnam-based journalist published a takedown of Gretchen’s practices in Southeast Asia and beyond, where she had numerous sweatshops producing her wares. Because most of Gretchen’s clothing costs upward of three hundred dollars, Eva had created a strategy around their “incredible eco-conscious branding,” discussing how kind they were to their seamstresses and other employees. It was clear, now, that Gretchen Collingsworth had been lying and pocketing the profits.
Eva thought she was going to be sick.
Slowly, she shut her laptop and sat, dumbfounded.
Nico came into the living room with a glass of wine. “I told you to wait to show her that till after dinner!” he reprimanded his sister.
“She needs to know,” Aphrodite said.
Nico handed Eva the glass of wine, and she got up and carried it to the rooftop. Out there, the wind had picked up, fluttering through her hair, and she filled her mouth with wine and thought about Gretchen, about the jail she was sitting in, and about Finn, alone somewhere in Boston (or already dating someone beautiful, someone who didn’t know he’d stolen money from his girlfriend). She felt like the world was crumbling.
Nico and Aphrodite followed her up there, bringing with them three plates of sea bream and more wine and fresh bread. Together, they sat at the table on the rooftop. Aphrodite andNico didn’t seem to know what to say, and Eva was grateful they weren’t blabbering on.
Eva raised her glass of wine and looked at them. “I came to Greece for a break from stress, but stress found me anyway.”
Aphrodite raised her glass nervously and eyed her brother. “Greece is no place for stress, Eva.”
“I’m already in a bad spot with money,” Eva explained.
Aphrodite waved her hand. “You have a place to live, and you have us. If you need a little bit of money, I can find you a job here on the island, no problem.”
Eva’s throat was tight. Was she really going to resort to some random job? She was twenty-eight years old. Then again, only she knew the sad state of affairs in her bank account. She was far too proud to call her mother and father for help. She knew what her mother would say.You never should have gone to Greece. You should have stayed home with me. You can move back in! You know we’d be happy to have you.
But Eva didn’t want to take too many steps back. So she said, “What’s the job?” and braced herself for a summer of pain.
Chapter Eleven
Martha’s Vineyard - June 2025
After Estelle’s romance novel reading at the bookstore in Oak Bluffs, Dimitra had tears in her eyes that she couldn’t shake. Estelle’s soulful and powerful voice had transported Dimitra back to her own beautiful love story—a love story set on the glinting waters of the Aegean, a love story of kissing in olive groves and driving too fast on island roads, a love story all her own, now that Kostos was gone. It was a surprise when the audience began to get up, fetch glasses of wine, and go outside because Dimitra had been so captivated. She’d nearly forgotten about Harry and his dog, Cash.
