I had thought Spiridon’s beach mansion was awesome. This was the next level.

“How is your plein air painting class going, Samoula?” Spiridon asked before sipping his lemonade. “You said the professor was Katherine Weatherspoon?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“She’s good,” Nikolos said.

“You know her?” I asked.

“I know most of the faculty in the art department at SDU,” Nikolos said.

“Wow, you guys both do, don’t you?” I grinned.

“Pretty much,” Spiridon smiled. “How are you enjoying painting outdoors?”

“It’s the best!” I beamed. “I’m always thinking how awesome it would be to paint outside for a living.”

“Pretty awesome,” Spiridon smiled.

“That’s right! You painted all those landscapes over the years!”

“I’ve spent most of my life painting outdoors,” he said.

“I still can’t get over the fact that’s your job.” I sipped more lemonade and started crunching an ice cube. Normally, I wouldn’t have spoken with my mouth full, but that was with my parents. Spiridon and Nikolos were so laid back, I didn’t even realize I was breaking the rules.

“Hey,” Nikolos said to his dad, “remember that time you took me up to Yosemite, and you were painting by that river, and you thought I was a deer?”

“What?” I asked, confused.

“That’s right!” Spiridon chuckled, “You were a deer!”

Nikolos smiled broadly, that same dimpled grin that Christos had, and said, “Oh, you should’ve been there, Samantha. I was just a kid. My dad was busy painting, but I wanted to play.”

“You were probably, what, seven or eight at the time?” Spiridon said.

“That sounds about right,” Nikolos smiled. “So, there I was, tugging on my dad’s arm every five minutes to show him another pine cone I’d found or maybe another fancy rock, and I’m walking back toward where he’s set up by his easel to show him something else, and I see a full grown mama deer walk up behind my dad out of nowhere, followed by her two babies. The mama was two feet behind Dad, and she was one big deer. I was so scared, I couldn’t even speak. The next thing I know, that mama deer is nipping at the back of my dad’s jacket.” Nikolos glanced at Spiridon, “Didn’t you have an orange or something in your pocket?” Spiridon nodded agreement. “Anyway, Dad is so busy focusing on his painting, and without turning around, he says to the deer, ‘That’s wonderful, Nikos, beautiful. Now go see if you can find another one just like it.’ He didn’t even know it wasn’t me!” Nikolos cried laughter.

Spiridon, already laughing said, “I did when that mama deer leaned over my shoulder and licked my palette of watercolors!”

“You should’ve seen him jump!” Nikolos laughed, reliving the memory. “He turned around and that mama deer was staring him right in the face, not two inches away! He jumped out of his camping chair at least four feet in the air!”

“No way!” I said in disbelief.

“It wasn’t four feet,” Spiridon laughed. “But I sure beat feet when I realized it wasn’t you.”

Both of them threw their heads back and chuckled heartily.

Spiridon wiped tears of joy from his eyes. “Do you remember that time we were visiting your aunt in Mykonos?”

“Which time?” Nikolos grinned.

“The one with the pelican on our rowboat.”

“Oh,” Nikolos chuckled, “you mean the pelican who wanted your lunch?”

Spiridon nodded.

“You tell it,” Nikolos smiled.

Spiridon leaned over to me. “So, we had ridden bicycles from my sister’s house in Mykonos down to Ornos for the weekend. This was back before all the hotels started taking over the island.”

“Where’s Mykonos?” I asked.

“It’s in the Aegean sea, southeast of mainland Greece,” Nikolos said.

“So,” Spiridon continued, “I had gotten the brilliant idea of setting up my easel on a rowboat. I should’ve known better, with this one around,” he cocked a thumb at Nikolos, “but I wanted to paint the town from a view on the water so I could capture the white plaster buildings against the sapphire blue of the ocean. Nikos and his cousin Helena were busy swimming all morning. When it was lunch time, my sister pulled out the picnic basket she’d brought to feed everyone. Nikos and Helena climbed out of the water, soaking wet. They were dripping over everything. That should’ve been my clue I was asking for trouble painting watercolors in the middle of the bay, but all I could think about was my sister’s scrumptious gyros waiting for us. Once the food was out, a giant pelican landed on the prow of the boat to see what was on the menu. Nikos wanted to shoo him off, but I said it was okay. The next thing I know, I had set my gyro down only for a second, and the pelican hops off the stern and snatches up my lunch like it was a fish and swallows it down! Before I can stand up, Nikos shouts ‘I’ll get it’ and lunges for that bird. The pelican flapped its wings furiously to escape and knocked my painting right into the water! Everyone is hollering and Nikos turns on a dime, shouting ‘I’ll get it, I’ll get it!’ He dove right in the water and rescued my painting. But you can imagine what a dip in the ocean does to a wet watercolor painting.”

Spiridon and Nikolos were both laughing as they remembered.

“Oh no!” I laughed. “What happened to the painting?”

“The painting was ruined, but I couldn’t tell Nikos that. He was so proud for saving it.” Spiridon looked at his son and smiled lovingly.

Nikolos nodded, basking in the warmth of his father’s love decades after the fact.

Spiridon and Nikolos traded painting stories back and forth like that for an hour. Some of them included the misadventures of young Christos as well. Every single tale was filled with excitement, fun, and love. My childhood had been nothing like it.

“And that’s what you did for a living for all those years?” I said to Spiridon with an amazed smile. It sounded like a continuous vacation to me.

“Yes,” Spiridon said. “For a long time.”

“Why’d you ever stop painting?” I asked.

Spiridon sighed mysteriously. “That’s a long story,”

I glanced at Nikolos, who raised his eyebrows before looking away. Okay, they weren’t going to tell me.

“Maybe you should be a landscape painter, Samantha,” Nikolos said, drawing attention away from Spiridon.

“You think?” I said.

Nikolos shrugged his shoulders, “Why not? It’s a job like any other.”

It never ceased to amaze me how the Manos men took it for granted that I was going to be a successful artist someday. Now Nikolos was doing it too. Christos had the most awesome family I’d ever met. I was so glad to be a part of it.

I shook my head and sipped more lemonade, which was delicious, as always, and basked in the warm spring air. It was hard to believe working for Nikolos was an actual job. It was like hanging out with my friends.

Lucky me!

* * *

I sat at my drawing table in the studio at Spiridon’s house, working on drawing drapery. Drapery meant the way cloth folded, usually on clothing when people wore it, sometimes just hanging like wrinkled blankets or hanging tablecloths and curtains. It was part of our homework for Drawing The Costumed Figure.

It was almost like doing fashion illustrations.

I’d already drawn a bunch of pictures of princesses in fluffy dresses and hot guys in slick suits striking GQ poses. I had a bunch of internet browser windows open on my laptop showing photos of various gowns and runway models, male and female. I was really liking this whole Art major choice of mine. My parents were really out to lunch about art.

Whatever.

Christos was out, hanging with Jake. Spiridon was out too, I wasn’t sure where. He tended to come and go without explanation. I could only assume he had an entire adult life he was living, but I never saw it. Maybe he was secretly a handsome Greek mafia kingpin?

I chuckled to myself.

My laptop was open next to me, playing iTunes. Wonderwall by Oasis wafted from the speakers on warm, loving waves while I drew in my sketchbook.

I was busy putting the finishing touches on a hot guy in a tuxedo who looked alarmingly like Christos. I hadn’t even realized I was drawing him. I sat back from my sketchbook and realized the tux guy stood next to a girl in a wedding dress.

How had that happened?

I swear, I hadn’t done it on purpose.

Maybe next I would draw babies in bodysuits.

I blushed to myself. What was I thinking?

I shook my head and stood up to stretch my legs and take a break. I started Wonderwall over from the beginning and danced alone, swaying to the groove, thinking about Christos, hugging my arms around myself.

I was so in love with Christos.

He had saved me from the horrid future my parents had planned for me. My life had opened up to possibilities I’d never dreamed would ever come true when I was a girl. Now I had hope like I’d never known hope before.

I was truly blessed.

My cell phone rang abruptly, cutting like a strident scream through the comforting music emanating from my laptop.

I jumped.

My phone was also on vibrate, and it danced maniacally in the tray of pencils attached to my drawing table where I’d left it, making the pencils rattle and clack together horribly.

Dread.

I grabbed for my phone, but it danced from my fingers.

Christos.

Something was wrong. On the third ring I got a hold of it. Oh no, Christos. My gut was churning.

Not again.

Falling, falling, falling.

I looked at the screen on my phone. It read:

“Mom & Dad”