Takis couldn’t believe anyone would do something so fantastic for him and returned home to tell his parents about the opportunity.
His mother kept quiet. As for his father, he listened and nodded. If this is what you want to do, then you must do it.
But how do you feel about it, Baba? Takis had still wanted his father’s approval.
His father shrugged his shoulders. Does it matter? You’re eighteen years old now and are in charge of your own destiny. At eighteen a man can leave his father and make his own way.
That isn’t the answer I was hoping for. His father hadn’t given him his blessing and probably resented Nassos Rodino for making any of this possible.
If you’re a man, then you don’t need an answer.
Takis had felt rebuked. His mother remained silent as he left the room with a hurt too deep to express. After the talk with his father, he’d had the feeling his parent had already felt abandoned before he’d even approached him.
Combined with the pain of having recently lost his girlfriend, who’d been killed in a bus accident, he finally made the decision to leave home. She’d been the one he could confide in about his dreams.
After all their talks, she’d known he’d been afraid to leave his family in case they thought he was letting them down. But she’d encouraged him and told him to spread his wings. They’d talked about her joining him in New York at a later date.
With her gone, he’d had no one who understood everything going on inside him. Her compassion had made her such an exceptional person, and he’d never found that incredible quality in the women he’d met since leaving Crete.
In the end, he’d made the decision to go after the opportunity that would enrich his life and he vowed, one day, that he would return and help his family in every capacity possible.
That was a long time ago.
On this cool March day, he held in the tears as he embraced his mother one more time. On this trip he noticed she’d aged and hadn’t exhibited her usual energy. That troubled him. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”
“Why don’t you come home to live? You can afford it. We miss you so much.” Her tears tugged at his heart.
His father didn’t weep, but Takis detected a new sorrow in his eyes. Why was it there? Why didn’t his parent speak the words of love and acceptance he longed to hear?
“Do what you have to do.” Those were similar to the words he’d said to Takis before he’d left for New York eleven years ago. “Be safe, my son.”
But his father still hadn’t been the one to ask him to come home or tell him he’d like him to work at the hotel with the family again. Had Takis done irreparable damage to their relationship?
“You too, Baba.” His throat had swollen with emotion. “Stay well.”
He turned to his mother once more. Was the sorrow he’d seen in his father’s eyes over concern for his wife? Was there something wrong with her? With his father? Something no one in the family was telling him?
This visit had troubled him with thoughts he didn’t want to entertain. He hugged everyone and kissed his nieces and nephews. Then he climbed into the taxi in front of the family-owned hotel that needed refurbishing. Heaven knew it needed everything. They needed everything.
His eyes clung to his mother’s once more. Had she been trying to tell him something? He blew her a kiss.
The flight to Athens would be leaving from Heraklion airport in four hours. First he would attend the funeral services for Nassos Rodino at the Greek Orthodox church in the heart of Heraklion. The recently divorced hotel owner, rumored to have a mistress, had suffered a stroke in the prime of his life—a stroke that had preceded his death. This had shocked Takis, who’d met with the man, who had given him so much, on his yacht to talk business when Takis had last come to Crete.
Most important to Takis was that he owed the hotelier a debt that bordered on love. His gratitude to the older man knew no bounds.
In truth he couldn’t think of another successful man who would have gone to such lengths to give Takis the chance to better himself, even to go as far as sponsoring him in the United States.
Once the funeral was over, he’d fly to Athens. From there he’d take another flight to Milan, Italy, where he was part owner, and manager of the five-star Castello Supremo Hotel and Ristorante di Lombardi.
But all the way to the church his mother’s words rang in his ears. Why don’t you come home to live. You can afford it. His mother had never been so outspoken in her thoughts before.
Yes, he could afford it. In the eleven years he’d been away, he’d made millions while his family continued to eke out their existence.
Was she telling him something without coming right out and saying it? Was she ill? Or his father? Death with dignity? Never saying a word? Damn that pride of theirs if it was true!
Neither Kori nor Lukios had said anything, but maybe his siblings had been kept in the dark. Then again maybe nothing was wrong and his mother, who was getting older, was simply letting him know how much they’d missed him.
He missed them too. Of course he’d come back in an instant if they needed him. But to come home for good? Even if his two business partners were in agreement and bought him out—even if he sold his hotel chain in New York, would his father allow him to work alongside him? What if he refused Takis’s help? What would Takis do for the rest of his life? Build a new hotel conglomerate on Crete?
His eyes closed tightly. He could never do that to his father and use the Manolis name. A son honored his father and showed him respect by never taking anything away from him.
Two years ago Takis had built a children’s hospital in his hometown village of Tylissos on Crete in order that his niece Cassia would get the kind of skilled medical help she needed. The hospital gave free medical care with no child turned away.
He’d kept his dealings anonymous, using local people who had no idea Takis had funded everything including the doctors’ salaries. It helped him to know he was doing something for his family, even if they weren’t aware of it.
Long ago Takis had lost hope that one day his father might be proud of him for trying to make something of his life in order to help them. His parent had never been anything but kind to him, but deep in his heart lived the fear that his family had always compared him to their ever faithful Lukios and would never see Takis in the same light.
In his pain he needed to get back to Italy and ask advice from his partners, who were as close to him as brothers.
“Kyrie?” The taxi driver broke in on his tormented thoughts by telling him they’d arrived at the corner of the square.
Takis had been in a daze. “If you’ll wait here, I’ll be back in an hour.” He handed him some bills and got out to join a crowd of people entering the church, where the covered coffin faced east.
Once he found a seat, he listened to the white-robed priest who conducted the service. After leading them in hymns and scriptures, the priest asked God to give Nassos rest and forgive all his sins. As far as Takis was concerned, the man had no sins. Because of him, Takis had been given a precious gift that had changed his life completely. But at what price?
Soon the bereaved, dressed in black, started down the aisle to go to the cemetery. One dark-haired woman in a black veil appeared particularly overcome with sorrow. Nassos’s ex-wife? Takis had never met her. Nassos had kept their few meetings totally private.
Because he’d arrived late, he’d taken a seat on the aisle at the back. While he waited for everyone to pass, his gaze happened to fasten on probably the most gorgeous young dark-blonde woman he’d ever seen in his life.
Her two-piece black suit provided the perfect foil for her stunning classic features only rivaled by violet eyes. Their color reminded him of the Chaste plant belonging to the verbena family that grew all over Crete. They peered out of dark las
hes that took his breath. But he could see she was grief stricken. Who was she?
He turned his head to watch her walk out the rear of the church. If he weren’t going to be late to catch his flight, he’d drive to the cemetery and find out her name. Hers was a face and figure he would never forget, not in a lifetime.