Page 96 of Terms of Trade (Trade Wind 4)

“I know how you feel about deceptions. I didn’t think of this that way. It was only supposed to be a surprise. I’m sorry. I—“

She placed a finger over his lips. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s as you said—there was a misunderstanding. Or rather, the fault is mine. Oh, Nicholas, your family is showing me what familyis, in a way I never had. Not since my mother died. I feel—well, embarrassed about having expected the worst.”Embarrassed I’m so pathetic.

“All this is meant from the heart, you know—you said you wanted to celebrate Christmas. So you shall.”

They stood quietly while she adjusted to the news of what awaited her. She laughed breathlessly, remembering Vassilis’s declaration. “Leave it to your father to insist it’s Christmas—while we’re melting in this heat!”

His face softened. “You’re smiling. Laughing. It’s good to see that again.”

“Before your family worries any longer, let’s join the festivities.”

“Let’s.”

Helen braced herself, preparing to go inside. Who knew what the other guests had heard? Channeling her gratitude, she smiled as Nicholas pushed open the heavy, ten-foot-tall door, resolved to show that nothing was amiss.

A full-size wooden rowboat brimming with evergreen boughs and candles took up much of the foyer. Helen gasped as she stepped inside. “Oh!”

“Karavaki,” Sirena said, pointing to the boat with a smile.

Her eyes reflecting the dozens of candles, Pen grinned. “The Germans decorate trees for Christmas. Greeks decorate boats!”

Inhaling the sharp fragrance of fresh pine, Helen looked from the boat to the other decorations. The statues lining the walls on either side were draped in greenery and red velvet bows.

This is what they didn’t want me to see this afternoon!

“Oh, it’s so beautiful!” she exclaimed softly, looking all around.

Vassilis’s chuckle echoed in the marble entryway, and he patted Sirena’s shoulder. “Come, Helen! See the rest!”

Pen linked arms with Helen, winking. “My arguments won the day, and we shall feast on treatsbeforesupper is served!”

Christmas garlands with holly and candles occupied the tables in the hallway leading to the dining room, where the mantle was adorned as well. In the center of the white-linen-draped dining table was another wooden boat, this one a few feet long and a foot wide, the small candles within alight.

Helen stepped closer to the table to examine the other delights. “Irish soda bread! Oh, it looks delicious! And what’s this other? The Christ’s bread you spoke of?”

“Yes!Christopsomo,” Nicholas confirmed.

The large round loaf was decorated with a thick braided cross, also made of bread. A walnut in its shell sat at the center of the cross.

“I can’t believe this,” Helen said, the surprise overwhelming her again. “You found the soda bread! Oh, everyone, thank you ever so much.”

“Do sit down,” urged Sirena gently, guiding Helen by the elbow to her usual place setting. “We shall share each other’s traditions. Vassilis was too sick last year to have theChristopsomo.It’s another chance for everyone to enjoy Christmas.”

Only when Helen sat down in her seat next to Nicholas did she realize the table was set for the five of them—and no more. She stared at the Irish soda bread that looked just as she remembered, and it blurred as tears filled her eyes, remembering Nicholas’s answer about who would be in attendance tonight.

Apart from Adrian, every person of the greatest importance to my parents.

At the very least, David Chadbourne and Clara Robertson were missing—but she understood Nicholas’s point. She was being treated as family.

“Will you tell us about this?” Sirena asked, gesturing to the rustic, rounded Irish loaf.

It looked humble on the ornate table next to the gleaming silver and china, yet Helen was proud of it. She explained what she had to Pen in the Lilac Room, though this time her voice was strained with emotion.

She had eaten the bread but once a year and it had been seven years since having a single bite of it, but the caraway and raisin were buried deep in her memory, and were instantly and lovingly recalled.

It had been a long time since she had even thought of these memories, let alone honored them, and once again, she marveled at the lovely intricacies of life. It had taken sitting at a table in London with this family of Greek origin, born in Constantinople, to reconnect with this Irish tradition she’d grown up with in Boston.

Living in the cold as she had for the last years, it had been easier to survive by embracing the chill rather than turning to recollections of warmth from the past.I don’t want to live in the cold ever again, she resolved, looking around at the table. Even as she felt herself softening, she couldn’t fight it.

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