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9
“Imade fresh coffee,” Sienna said as Angela laid the new loaf of bread on the counter.
She’d promised the old lady she’d return, and she’d been happy to support the locals. “How did you sleep?”
Sienna retrieved a mug and poured for Angela. “I woke up at two and couldn’t get back to sleep. But I must have zonked out again around five.”
Though she’d already had café au lait in Fira, Angela took the mug. “Thanks for this.” Then she added, “I slept most of the way through, but by five-thirty, I was wide awake. So I took a walk.”
They carried their mugs out to the terrace and sat in the loungers, Sienna still wearing her shortie pajamas.
“We can find a bigger grocery store to do the rest of our shopping,” Angela said, gazing at the gorgeous blue Aegean. It was nine now, and boats were cruising the waters.
“They actually have bigger grocery stores here?”
Angela smiled indulgently, the way Xandros would have when she’d sounded as if Santorini had no amenities. “Yes, they have supermarkets where we can get whatever we need. In fact, I passed one on my walk. It’s not that far. Or we can take a bus.” She hadn’t rented a car, primarily because of the parking issue, and she figured they could take taxis or the bus wherever they wanted to go. Santorini wasn’t that big.
“What about all the groceries we’ll have to carry back?” Sienna looked at her with skepticism.
“Not to worry.” She winked at her daughter. “I found a wheelie basket in the kitchen.”
Sienna pretended to choke on her coffee. “A wheelie basket, like we’re little old ladies?” She grimaced.
“I am an old lady.”
Sienna waved her hand. “You’re not that old. Old is over sixty.”
Heh. To Angela, the cutoff was now seventy-five. When she turned fifty-five, that would climb to eighty.
“Let’s walk to Fira this afternoon,” she said. “It’s only a mile and a half. We can take the cable car down to the old port before all the tourists start back down to their ships. Then we’ll walk back up the Karavolades Stairs. There’s only 588 of them. And by that time, most of the tourists will already be up top.”
Sienna stared at her for fifteen seconds, her expression one of pure horror. “You want to walk up 588 steps in the heat of the day? Are you crazy?”
“It’s only supposed to be eighty-two degrees today. Not that bad.” Angela smiled, one eyebrow peaked. “We could take a donkey ride up.”
Sienna snorted. “That’s even crazier than walking. Can’t we just take the cable car down and then back up?”
“It’s no worse than hiking some of the steep hills in San Francisco.”
“I don’t walk hills, Mother.” Sienna rolled her eyes. “I work out in the gym.”
Angela let her smile sparkle in her eyes. “This will use all new muscles then. It’ll be perfect. You’ll love it. Hills are my favorite hikes.”
Sienna gazed at her in awe. “You hike?”
“Every day. It’s not called the Los Altos Hills for nothing.” She snorted softly. “There’s lots of trails back there, some of them only locals know about.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“I belong to a hiking group. We sometimes go to the Fremont Hills or the Santa Cruz Mountains. Even down to Pinnacles National Monument. It’s amazing the number of places to hike in the Bay Area.”
Sienna said, “Oh,” as if she had no clue who or even what her mother was. “No wonder you can climb 588 steps.”
Angela laughed. “I plan to rest at each switchback.”
“Thank God for that.” Then all signs of horror and humor faded from Sienna’s face. “I’d really like to stay here today, catch some sun. My legs are pasty.” She looked at Angela. “Is that okay with you?”
“That’s fine. I don’t mind doing the shopping.” Truly, she didn’t.
