Page 47 of Footprints in the Sand
“You know, I married a man who wasn’t kind when it came to money,” Dimitra said thoughtfully. “It’s something I’ve had tocome to terms with. I think it was a level of abuse that I didn’t really fathom because it wasn’t like he was hitting me with his fists.”
Meghan blinked. “Are you saying that Finn abused Eva?”
“Not physically,” Dimitra said. “But there are all kinds of ways to show a lack of respect. There are various ways to knock a person down several pegs. Maybe Finn thought he was ‘helping’ Eva, but he was showing her what kind of man he is. I think it’s good, in the long run.”
Meghan took a deep breath and steadied herself against the railing. “You are very wise, Dimitra. I have really enjoyed knowing you. I’ll miss you when you go.”
Implied in what she was saying, of course, was that Dimitra needed to go so that Eva could come back. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, too,” she said to Meghan.
But she was surprised to realize she’d begun thinking of Paros as a place she didn’t really want to return to. She wondered what had changed.
There was a tap on Dimitra’s shoulder. She turned to find Oriana beaming, telling her that William wanted Dimitra to join him on the top deck. According to Oriana, it was where William’s wealthiest friends were drinking together, talking about their most recent art acquisitions and what they wanted to buy next. Dimitra suddenly saw herself as a part of their twisted games of “collecting.” Her work was reminiscent of Ancient Greek artifacts. It was just another thing to obtain and forget about.
But Dimitra followed Oriana upstairs to William’s “lair,” where he sat with a burnt-orange cocktail and his ankle on his opposite knee. He beamed as she approached, clearly liking what he saw. Was it the dress? The way Dimitra walked, undulating her hips? Was she performing for him? She stopped walking and cursed herself. She’d wanted this man to like her, she guessed, but she couldn’t remember why any longer.William’s friends were in their fifties, sixties, and seventies, wearing linen and white outfits that probably cost upward of two hundred thousand.
“This is the immaculate Greek artist I’ve been telling you all about,” William said. “Dimitra Aetos. I discovered her.”
Dimitra glanced at Oriana, annoyed, wondering why Oriana didn’t get the credit for “discovering” Dimitra.
“I didn’t realize I was waiting to be discovered,” Dimitra said, unable to resist a bit of snark. “I’ve always known about myself.”
William erupted with laughter. “I should have told you, she’s a spitfire. Dimitra, sit with us. Please. Someone get the lady a drink.”
A bartender approached a moment later with the same cocktail that William was drinking. It was bitter and tinged with orange flavoring. She clinked glasses with William and his friends Roger, Steven, Calvin, and Fred. They gazed at her with interest, like she was prey they wanted to collect for themselves.Let them think what they want to think, Dimitra told herself.Don’t make anyone angry. Take their money and run.
To Dimitra’s surprise, Oriana wasn’t welcome in the group upstairs. After a brief round of hellos, she returned downstairs, giving Dimitra a final smile before she disappeared. Dimitra was frightened.
“Tell us, Dimitra, how are you finding your time in the United States?” Fred asked, twirling his mustache.
“It’s certainly been life-changing,” Dimitra said, eyeing William, the person who’d changed everything for her. He knew it, too. He was proud.
“You’re living the American dream already,” Roger said. “You’ve been here, what? A month?”
“Six weeks, maybe,” she said.
“And how long do you plan to stay?” Calvin asked.
“She can’t very well go back to that place,” Roger said.
“It’s like a third-world country!” Calvin agreed.
Dimitra flared her nostrils. “Since when is Greece a third-world country?”
“Everyone, let’s give it a rest,” William said, his eyes sparkling. It was clear he didn’t want to “give it a rest.” “We all love Greece, don’t we? Roger, you especially.”
Dimitra looked at Roger incredulously. “Why do you say that?”
Roger laughed uproariously. “You’re really going to bring the Greek woman into my game?”
“She isn’t naive, Roger. She knows what kind of world this is,” William said, lighting a cigar.
Dimitra hated the smell of cigars and had really detested it when Kostos had smoked them. She turned her head away from him, disgusted.
“I don’t think she’d take kindly to me forcing thousands of Greeks from their home in pursuit of my own selfish gain,” Roger said, his voice heavy with irony.
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” William said.
Dimitra knew this was all a show, all to see if they’d get a rise out of her.
