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8
“I’m not even tired,” Sienna said as they stepped into their Santorini home for the next two weeks.
Angela had never been happier than when Sienna said she’d worked out the trip with her boss, and over the following two months, they’d planned everything, booked the perfect villa, and she’d encouraged Sienna to shop for swimsuits and summer clothes.
Donald hadn’t acted on his threat, thank God. Maybe he didn’t believe Angela would ever tell and that he could still hold all the cards.
It had been a long flight, with a stopover in Athens, then the hop to Santorini. Angela had thought about staying a couple of days in Athens, touring the Acropolis and other ancient sites, then taking the ferry over. But Santorini was the only place she wanted to be. They could stop in Athens on the way back.
They’d flown first class, and she and Sienna had slept much of the way. Despite the time change, neither of them felt jet lag yet. It was early evening, the heat of the mid-June day dissipating. Angela wanted to stay up until at least ten o’clock to get fully acclimated to the time.
Sienna dumped her bags in the villa’s living room. “This is amazing. I love it.”
Angela was glad she’d done something right.
The villa was built into the hillside with views of the turquoise Aegean from lounge chairs on the deck. Gorgeous pink and red bougainvillea climbed trellises along the white walls. Inside was a living room, half bath, and kitchen on the first level, and two bedrooms plus a shared bathroom upstairs. Villas surrounded theirs on either side, as well as above and below. That was Santorini, the houses stacked on each other, climbing up the steep hills.
Angela planned to make this an idyllic holiday where she could undo the damage Donald had done to her relationship with her daughter.
After checking out the downstairs and testing how comfortable the sofa was, they carried their bags up to the bedrooms.
Rather than shelves, there were niches in the walls for books or an alarm clock, a tray on the bureau for jewelry or vitamins. The same was true of the bathroom, niches for makeup and other sundries, the walls curved rather than straight. With the villa fit snugly into the hill, there were no windows in the back rooms, only along the front. But that was enough light beneath the bright Santorini sun and blue sky.
Angela gave Sienna the queen-size room while she took the double bed. The bathroom was equipped with a large stall shower and pedestal sink.
Without bothering to unpack, she trotted back downstairs to scope out the kitchen supplies. The small euro-style refrigerator was empty except for ice cubes in a tray, but the cupboards revealed cinnamon, salt-and-pepper, and several typically Greek spices. There was a coffee machine and filters, but no coffee.
When Sienna joined her, Angela suggested, “Let’s find a grocery store that’s still open and get a few things, coffee, milk, and bread, something for the morning. Maybe some butter too.” They’d eaten a meal in Athens, and she wasn’t hungry right now.
“It’ll be all mom-and-pop places nearby,” Sienna said. “Will they be open past six?”
“Let’s walk and find out. We’ll see the sunset too.”
“Can’t we watch the sunset from the patio?”
Angela laughed. “Yes. But you really have to see what the town is like, the narrow cobblestone alleys, the stairs, the blue domes. The towns of Santorini are like nothing you’ve ever seen. All the best places are built on the hill.”
Sienna groaned. “I might do the bike in the gym, but it’s not like climbing up and down stairs on the side of a mountain.”
Angela wrapped her in a quick hug, even though she probably shouldn’t. “Being on Santorini, you’ll get used to hills and stairs.”
Sienna whipped out her phone and typed. “I found a market here.” She pointed. “They’re still open.”
Angela flourished her arm. “Then lead on.” Purse slung over her shoulder, she locked the terrace door and opened the blue gate that led to a narrow pathway between the houses.
There was no parking on the road, as they’d found out when their taxi driver had lugged their bags down the steps to the villa. If this wasn’t Santorini, she would have felt cramped. But on the island, where the towns perched on the hillside overlooking the caldera, few roads would fit large cars. There were bicycles and scooters and quad bikes as well as the occasional small car, and foot traffic was heavy. Even from their gate, they could make out tourists taking the stairs to restaurants or shops.
Santorini had been formed thousands of years ago when the volcano exploded. The island was only eleven miles long, and the principal towns of Oia and Fira were constructed on the caldera side, with a view across the crater. The blue Aegean Sea had long since filled in the volcano, creating the smaller islands. They’d chosen a villa in Imerovigli, within walking distance of Fira.
As they headed to the steps, Sienna let out a laugh, louder than her normally restrained humor. “Look at that sign.” She pointed, reading aloud. “Don’t step here. This is a church.” She laughed again. “It’s in English, as if Americans are the only ones who would dare to step on the roof of a church.”
Angela didn’t care that they might be loud, noisy Americans. She was simply glad for Sienna’s laughter, hoping that Santorini would be good for her daughter. As they turned, looking for stairs, she noticed a young man on the terrace above and slightly to the right. He waved when he saw her looking. Angela waved back.
Though the sun hadn’t set yet, it cast long fingers of color over the clouds drifting across the sky. It was going to be a gorgeous sunset, as all Santorini sunsets were.
“We’ll go to Oia,” she told Sienna, following her down a set of steps. “It’s the best place to watch the sunset.”
On her first trip, she and Xandros had gone there on many evenings. They hadn’t minded the crowds taking up every available space, but he’d always gotten them there early, setting her in front of him, his body blocking anyone from ruining their view. The crowds were as bad as the sunrise watchers on Hawaii’s Diamondhead, where she’d honeymooned with Donald. He’d never wanted to go in the early morning, claiming the Japanese tourists were a nuisance. But Angela had always enjoyed joining the tourists. Just as she’d loved every moment in Oia, watching the sunset with Xandros’s arms around her.
