Page 55 of Memories of Santorini

She couldn’t bear to hear what he might say, rushing on with, “It’s so cool in here.” She held up her hands. “Despite those floor-to-ceiling French doors.”

“The white building reflects the heat, and with the back of the house built into the hill, it stays cool. Like the old cave houses.” He put a hand on the glass. “I also used the most heat resistant technology in the windows.”

He showed her the two bedrooms, both with single beds. “For the grandchildren.” He winked at her. “Adults can use them and sneak into the other bed in the middle of the night.”

Another circular stone staircase led to a lower floor, this one with three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a cozy sitting area with a fireplace. “The flue goes to the balcony above, the heat rising for cold winter nights, almost like a fire pit.”

She couldn’t help laughing. “I think our definition of cold is probably different.”

“You would be right, but a fire pit is always welcome.”

The rooms on this level all had queen beds. She wondered where he slept.

Xandros opened an outside door and stepped onto stone stairs that led down. He pushed on the blue gate, glancing over his shoulder. “The steps are steep, and I use this as a child-proof gate. With the pool and hot tub down here, the children shouldn’t go down on their own.”

He held her hand as they took the steps, as if afraid she might fall. A gate set into the wall at the bottom led out to the drive.

Down here, bougainvillea hung over the white walls surrounding a vast stone patio with a narrow lap pool, a kidney-shaped pool, and a hot tub.

Without her noticing they were there, he opened glass bifold doors, revealing a massive bedroom with a sitting area before a white stone fireplace. A king-size platform bed filled the back wall, its bookcase headboard stacked with books, some on their sides, some upright, one open as if he’d just set it down.

“Wow,” she said on little more than a breath.

Xandros turned on recessed lighting in the ceiling and waved her to the bathroom door. The walk-in shower was big enough for two, with dual rain showerheads, and despite the hot tub outside, there was a large jetted tub made for two. And two sinks in a long marble vanity.

A prickle ran up her arms as she imagined his wife living here with him.

He seemed to read her mind. “I built this home for myself. My wife preferred Athens. She enjoyed the nightlife. While we have nightlife here on Santorini, it was never to her tastes.”

It felt odd getting this insight into his marriage. She didn’t want it, and yet she did. It actually buoyed her to know that in many ways they had lived separate lives, just as she and Donald had after Sienna’s accident.

She smiled, needing to ease the tension. “I can see why you want the gate up there, especially if you leave your curtains open to the night.”

He didn’t smile. “I bring no one down here except to use the hot tub and the pools. There are three levels above for partying.”

She didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t bring other women down here? He’d never brought women to this house? Or that he always entertained his women upstairs?

His expression changed, lightened. “You must be famished. I’ll make salad for lunch.”

He led her out of the room across terrazzo tiles intricately laid with mosaics between them. Pushing a button, he closed the doors and a set of blinds. “It keeps the room cool.”

They climbed the stairs once more to the kitchen level, and there he prepared a delicious salad of fresh shrimp, greens, avocado, olives, and Santorini tomatoes. She’d at first found the olives too salty, but she’d learned to love them. Back home, they’d become a reminder of him.

She was enjoying a delicious tomato spiked with vinaigrette and a tasty shrimp when the front door burst open. A young man rushed through, skidding to a stop on the tile entry when he saw his father with a woman he obviously didn’t know.

Xandros rose to his feet. “Niko, I thought you had a tour today.”

“I did,” the young man said. “Earlier this morning. But I left the house without my phone. It was too late to come back or I would’ve been late for the catamaran.” He spoke in English, perhaps because Xandros had.

He looked familiar, and his voice resembled Xandros’s when he’d been young.

Then she registered the word catamaran. This was the young man who’d piloted their catamaran. He wore the same blue shirt with the logo and the name of his company, Exotic Adventure Travels.

He’d looked familiar even then, with his resemblance to Xandros.

She thought she might choke on her shrimp and swallowed hard.

Xandros held his hand out, forcing her to stand. “Angelika, meet my son, Niko.”

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