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She looked up at the anxious calling of her name as Mia flew through the door.
‘It’s a disaster.’
‘Mia.’ They had been best friends growing up—although, to Mia’s chagrin, they weren’t as close now. Still, with her professional hat on, Roula poured Mia a glass of water then waved her to a seat. ‘Sit down.’
‘I haven’t got time to sit down.’
‘I’m sure your staff have it all under control...’
‘How can a wedding with less than thirty-six hours’ notice ever be under control?’
‘Believe me...’ Roula rolled her eyes. ‘I get it. Come on, you can take two minutes.’
‘This is ourboss. It’s the most important meal of my career...’
Roula halted her. ‘It’s Costa. We were at school with him. He likes burgers...’ Roula reminded her. ‘He orders souvlaki at midnight—not from your kitchen, but from the stalls down at the tourist beach.’
‘Yes...’ Mia had finally sat down and was taking deeper breaths now. ‘But his guests are all high-end and...’
‘Leo?’ Roula rolled her eyes. ‘Come, now. Yes, he’s famous now, but we have lunch with him on Santorini and the two of you go clubbing. He’s a friend, and anyway I’ve made sure he has his favourite tipple. Who else are you worried about?’
‘Galen Pallas and his guest.’ Mia gulped.
‘You honestly think that Galen is going to cause problems?’
‘He’s mega important now!’
‘Please...’ Roula shrugged. ‘Galen invented that digital game my nieces play on.’
‘He does way more than that...he’s some tech guru...’ Mia’s gestured helplessly. ‘He’s seriously powerful and...’
‘Come off it,’ Roula dismissed. ‘I remember Galen when he thought jam was a treat. He’s the least of your worries. Mia, you have cooked for royalty, you have cooked for celebrities, you have more awards and stars than the website can keep up with and you canabsolutelydo a perfect wedding lunch for twelve.’
Mia finally took a deep breath.
‘Twelve,’ Roula reiterated.
‘So, why didn’t Costa want me to cater for the beach party?’ the easily offended Mia asked. ‘Does he not think I’m up to it?’
‘It’s a barbecue on the beach. The whole island is invited and they want you there for the party as a guest,’ Roula said. ‘You just have to hand over your kitchen to the Santorini chefs and have some fun. Just focus on the lunch, and some meze for the private guests after the beach party...’
‘Yes.’ Mia was breathing again. ‘God, how do you hold it together, Roula? You’re always so in control.’
‘It’s my job to be,’ Roula said, and she had found out she was very good at it. ‘You’ve got this.’
‘I do.’ Mia nodded, but instead of heading back to her beloved kitchen she sat still, and her eyes narrowed a touch. ‘You knew it was Costa’s wedding before the rest of us, didn’t you?’
‘I knew a little earlier,’ Roula admitted, ‘but I was told in confidence.’
‘And you didn’t think to share it with me?’ Mia challenged. ‘We’re supposed to be best friends.’
‘Let’s not bring personal issues to work.’
‘But you’re the same out there.’ Mia pointed beyond the retreat and her eyes were both hurt and angry. ‘You never tell me anything any more. We shared everything growing up. God, Roula, your wedding was my first big event...’
‘I know.’
‘It’s been five years since Dimitrios died!’ Mia had stood up now, and was almost shouting. ‘I’ve tried to be patient, but you keep shutting me out—’
