About the Author
Author Interview
Can you describe a typical day in your writing life?
LT: I wake up, have a cup of coffee and note things down in my calendar. Then I do some writing and marketing until lunch time. In the afternoon, I usually attend seminars, classes or virtual tours and then might write some more in the evening.
If I were ever meant to fly, it would’ve been on this Friday morning—before I managed to ruin my father. I’d have soared from my balcony over the blue Aegean Sea and landed on the deck of the ferry that was trailing white foam toward Athens. With a sigh, I pleaded, “Come back for me.”
The vessel ignored me with a loud horn blast.
I closed the ledger with a thump that scared a pigeon into the cloudless sky. The numbers didn’t lie—Agistri was bleeding money. With Dad recovering from hip surgery, keeping the taverna open fell on me. But what could I do to bring in more customers? Refresh the menu? Add more desserts? I dragged a hand down my face.
“You’re talking to boats now?”
I jumped, only to find a grinning Nikos on the balcony’s threshold. After going over the ledger, our regular coffee date had slipped my mind.
He looked around. “Who are you, and what have you done to my best friend?”
If he knew that the day before I’d thought I might have the evil eye, he’d tease me until the end of days.
He plopped down in the chair next to mine. I slipped on my sunglasses and handed him the frappé I’d made him before coming up here.
“Thanks, Anastasia.” He sipped and let out a soft moan of satisfaction.
A cold gust brushed past, smelling of something metallic. Despite the bright morning sun lending warmth, I pushed deeper into my wrought-iron chair.
“You’re not in a chatty mood today.” Nikos shifted closer. “Should I go?”
God, I’d spent the previous two minutes chewing my neon-pink straw. “Sorry, I’m a bit distracted.”
“Is the distraction’s name Nestor?”
My cheeks flamed at the memory of the botched proposal. These days, I would’ve preferred thinking about the overdue bills than my boyfriend. “Yeah, it’s the first time we’ve been apart for so long,” I lied. “But it’s … ”
“If you say ‘complicated,’ I’m throwing myself off the balcony.”
“It’s only one floor you know.” I ruffled his brown hair.
I bit back a grumble. Nikos wouldn’t get it. Shop owners smiled to my face, then crossed themselves the second I walked away—something they never did with him. Of course Lifnos felt like his home. To me, home was Athens. In the capital, no one called me a Turkish witch.
I turned to the water and froze. A flock of seagulls circled over Kiknos Bay in a perfect spiral, performing like the Bolshoi. They moved as one, no wing out of sync. I blinked, and every single bird plummeted toward the sea at once, vanishing beneath the surface. I waited for them to come back up.
They didn’t.
My gaze cut to Nikos, but he was focused on me, not the water.
Yiayia would’ve called it a bad omen, but I knew better than to believe in that mumbo jumbo. Real life didn’t come with proper foreshadowing like a well-structured novel. How I missed my job at Faros Publishing!
“Okay, spill. You’re too quiet even for you.” Nikos planted his elbows on the table, all ears.
“It’s hard to be good company when I’ve no experience running a taverna and I can’t worry Dad by asking questions.”
He squeezed my arm. “You know Agistri inside and out. You’ve got this.”
I nodded, but Nikos didn’t know the half of it. Dad had kept the taverna’s problems from me.
The bay stretching out below the balcony invited me to escape again. A sleek white yacht appeared from behind the hill, slicing through the waves. Two blondes danced on deck. How I envied them.
Nikos stirred the frappé with his straw. “Anyway, you’re not the only one with a difficult work life.”
Wait, was that a gray cloud hovering just above the vessel? I squinted. Or was the sun’s glare making me see things?
Nikos huffed. “You’re not even listening.”
“What? I am. You have a difficult work life.”
When I checked again, the yacht was gone, leaving behind blue, too-calm waters.
“My boss keeps putting me down. Just because I crack jokes, Tsouros assumes I’m not dedicated. I have layers, you know.”
“Of course you do.” I matched his hurt tone.
Nikos raked his fingers through his hair. “How will I grow if he won’t give me a chance?”
I wished I could help him. What if he helped me though? He could write a promotional piece for the taverna. It might boost traffic.
Nikos jumped up. “Ugh, my mom’s texting, ‘ERRANDS NOW.’”
“Wait.” I grabbed his elbow.
“What’s wrong?”
My mouth felt too numb to work. Should I? Nikos’ phone pinged again, and my resolve solidified.
“Nothing. But I do have a suggestion for an article,” I said slowly.
He gasped. “You’ll give me a behind-the-scenes of the publishing world? No, wait! Does Nestor have inside information about the forensic pathologists’ scandal? Dirt on one of his colleagues?”
My stomach dropped. “Never mind,” I muttered and went to get up.
Nikos kept me seated. “Nonsense. Spill!”
“I need some publicity for Agistri. Can you write a feature?” I picked at the hem of my denim shorts.
Seconds of silence ticked by. Below, cats yowled by the dumpster, and my discomfort grew. I should’ve stayed quiet instead of putting him in an awkward position. If anyone knew what it felt like to sacrifice their job for someone else’s, it was me.
He cupped my hand. “Well, it’s not my dream article. And Tsouros might believe I’m happy writing fluff.” He paused. “Is the taverna in trouble?”
I felt like I was sitting on nails. “We’ll pull through. But I’d sleep better with a publicity boost to help until Dad takes over again.”
“If it means saving the taverna, then I don’t care what my boss thinks.”
“Thank you for this, Nikos.” This article was my lifesaver.
“No thanks needed. You’re family.” His green eyes went dreamy. “It’s going to be The Iliad of puff pieces.”
Oh no. Before I could temper his vision of Agistri earning three Michelin stars, he checked his phone and winced. “Okay, I’m off. When I get a chance, I’ll send you a first draft.” He kissed my temple.
The soft thud of his tennis shoes down the stairs faded, matching my slowing heartbeat.
I collapsed back in the chair. The prospect of a publicity boost should’ve lifted my spirits until Monday’s holiday and the increased earnings it meant. But Nikos was all good intentions with a dash of follow-through. And Lifnians didn’t need more than an excuse to rake me over the coals.
His article might just be one more problem at a time when problems were sprouting like weeds.
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