Memories of Santorini, page 1
Memories of Santorini
Jennifer Skully
© 2022 Jennifer Skully
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This is copyrighted material. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Memories of Santorini
A Once Again Novel
Book 6
There’s magic on Santorini, beneath the beautiful bougainvillea, under the blue domes, and in the enticing Aegean Sea.
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Angela Walker spent three glorious weeks on Santorini after she graduated from college. Three weeks that changed her life forever. Thirty years later, it’s time to go back to that beautiful island and the warm blue sea, the only place where she was ever completely happy.
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Thirty years ago, Xandros Daskalakis fell in love with a summer girl who came to his beloved island. When Angela had to return home, they agreed they’d meet in one year, and he believed he’d spend the rest of his life with her. But Angela never returned. Not for thirty years.
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Now she’s back. And she’s brought her daughter with her. Suddenly they all have questions that could cause an eruption massive enough to destroy their lives. Or bring them the happiness they lost so long ago.
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Take a holiday to the gorgeous Greek Isles and feel the magic for yourself in this later in life, second chance romance.
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Acknowledgments
A special thanks to Bella Andre for this fabulous idea and to both Bella and Nancy Warren for all the brainstorming on our 10-mile walks. Thank you also to my special network of friends who support and encourage me: Shelley Adina, Jenny Andersen, Linda McGinnis, Jackie Yau, Kathy Coatney, and Laurel Jacobson. As always, a huge hug of appreciation for my husband who helps my writing career flourish. And thank you to Wrigley, who is once again crying at the door to come in, even though I only let her out a minute ago!
1
“You should tell her the truth.” Her sister Teresa rolled the stem of her wineglass between her fingers, leaning in so the other restaurant patrons couldn’t hear them.
“You know I can’t tell her,” Angela said, her teeth snapping on the words.
She’d had ample opportunity to tell Sienna the truth in the year since the divorce. But Angela’s relationship with her daughter was already on tenterhooks. It had been since Sienna was eight years old.
“Angelina.” Teresa, two years older, said her name the way their mother would, as if she’d done something wrong. “It’s time Sienna knew what he’s like.”
Her ex-husband, Donald Walker, had been the driving force in Angela’s life for the last thirty years, controlling everything, from the way she interacted with the children, to the charity endeavors she took part in, to the country club ladies she was supposed to make friends with. Even though they’d divorced a year ago, he was still controlling her through Sienna.
She breathed in, pursing her lips. “Sienna adores him. Telling her will only backfire. Donald will somehow use whatever I say to break any connection I’m building with her.”
Teresa spread her hands, her voice soft and cajoling. “But things seem to be better between you and Sienna.”
“That’s why I’m not going to endanger anything right now.”
The waiter chose that moment to ask if they wanted refills on their wine. Born of Italian parents, they’d been drinking wine since they were ten years old, though watered down at that time. Now that she was fifty-three—and no longer under Donald’s thumb—Angela chose the best wines. Their father was a multimillion-dollar contractor, and their mother had been trying to make it to the top of the Silicon Valley elite for thirty years. The divorce had dashed her hopes.
The restaurant, an upmarket establishment in San Francisco, was relatively quiet for a mid-week lunch in early March. The conversations were muted, the ambience sophisticated, the patrons elegantly dressed even at lunchtime. Fresh hydrangea blooms decorated the tables, accompanied by crystal stemware and delicate porcelain.
After the waiter left, Angela went on. “That’s why I want to take Sienna on this Santorini trip, to give us a chance to understand each other. Maybe down the road, when we have a better relationship, I can explain everything.” She came from good Italian stock, and she used her hands to describe everything. “Right now, she doesn’t want to hear anything negative about her father. She already thinks badly of me, the way he’s always wanted her to, and I’m not giving him any ammunition before I’m ready.”
“It’s not giving him ammunition. Haven’t you heard the old saying that the truth will set you free?”
Angela wished she’d never told Teresa the truth about her marriage. And when she gave her sister a look, Teresa raised her hands. “All right, fine. I won’t belabor the point.” Thankfully, she changed the subject. “I really like the new haircut. I swear, you look five years younger.” Teresa touched her hair, which today she wore in a chignon. “Maybe I should cut mine off too.”
“William loves your long hair. But thank you. I’m glad you like the new cut.” Angela hadn’t considered it until her hairdresser suggested a shorter cut would be more attractive, the words now that you’re getting older left unsaid. The March day had been cold and blustery, though sunny, and she patted the curls in place as if the wind had disturbed them.
Sienna blew in then, all eyes drawn to her lithe figure in neat business attire, pants, suit jacket, and low-heeled pumps. Her beautiful chestnut hair curled in ringlets past her shoulders. Both Angela and Teresa had black hair—at least before the gray crept in—but Sienna had dyed hers, as if she didn’t want to be anything like her mother. And yet the likeness was unmistakable. Sienna had Angela’s classic bone structure, the patrician nose, the full lips. But while Sienna, at five foot eight, had the statuesque figure of a Roman sculpture, Angela and Teresa were both more petite at five-four, buxom and curvy like their mother.
Over fifty now, Angela was a pale imitation of her thirty-year-old daughter. She no longer turned men’s heads. Though turning a man’s head was the furthest thing from her mind, she still wished for her youth, her beauty, and the alluring figure of a twenty-two-year-old.
The hug Sienna gave Teresa was effusive and heartfelt. “Aunt Teresa, I’m so glad you’re here today.”
When she turned to Angela, their hug was standoffish, as if Sienna couldn’t bear more than her fingertips on her mother’s shoulders and an air kiss that didn’t connect.
The rift was Angela’s fault. She’d allowed Donald to take over. That was her mistake. She should have fought for her daughter’s love every step of the way.
Sienna practically threw herself into the seat. “Thank you so much for ordering the wine.” She smiled glowingly at Teresa as if her aunt was responsible for everything. “And thank you so much for the dinnerware.”
Teresa had sent her a set of everyday plates because Sienna had complained about chips in the old stuff she’d bought when she got her first apartment six years ago.
“You’re so welcome.” Teresa leaned over to kiss her cheek.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart.” Angela forced enthusiasm into her voice. “I’m so happy you could make it despite your birthday being last week.” She held her hand out in a that-doesn’t-matter gesture even though it mattered a lot. “But I’ve always said we should have a birth month, not just a birthday.”
Teresa raised her glass. “Here’s to turning thirty. And may the next ten years of your life be just as amazing as the last.”
Sienna’s face pinched, as if she thought the last ten years hadn’t been all that great. But in the next moment, she painted a smile on her lips.
If only things between them could be different. Maybe on Santorini, they would be. That was Angela’s hope.
“You look marvelous.” Teresa fluffed one of Sienna’s curls. “I thought you said you were going to cut your hair into a bob.”
“I’ve got an appointment at the salon this evening.”
Despite having her own new style, Angela didn’t want Sienna to cut her hair. The length and the curls looked good on her. But Angela knew better than to say anything. It had been this way for years. Whatever Angela thought Sienna should do, her daughter would do the opposite.
Sienna touched her hair. “I have that interview, the one I told you about, and I want to go in with a fresh look.”
“An interview? For what?” Angela regretted the question the moment she spoke. It was obvious Teresa knew things that Angela didn’t. Sienna talked a lot more with her aunt than she did with her mother.
Sienna grabbed a bread stick, pulling off a tiny piece. She wasn’t gluten free, but she complained about the empty calories of garlic bread and pasta. “I’m tired of working for a huge, soulless conglomerate. I want to be with a smaller firm, with fewer clients where they don’t feel like I’m rushing them out of my office so I can bring in the next client.”
Sienna was a financial advisor like her father, although Donald was head
Teresa clapped her hands. “I wish you all the best of luck with the interview.”
That’s what Angela should have said in the beginning. Now she could only imitate her sister. “I know you’ll get the job.”
Sienna looked at her as if she didn’t believe the good wishes. But she smiled. “Thank you.”
“Tell us what you did for your birthday,” Teresa said with an expansive gesture. “Every detail of the special day.”
Sienna glanced Angela’s way, a little wary along with something else. Sadness? Angela couldn’t interpret the look.
“I took the day off, got a mani-pedi, pampered myself.” She patted Teresa’s hand. “Nonni and Poppa said they’re coming out in July, and I thought we could have a family party. I really want to celebrate with them.” She glanced at Angela again. “I didn’t want to have a big party now and make them feel left out.” She smiled at her aunt. “And of course I want you and Uncle William and all the cousins to come.”
Teresa beamed. Angela was glad that Sienna’s resentment of her didn’t fall onto the family. Teresa had three girls, all a year apart and all college-age now. When Sienna was in high school, she’d been their babysitter and enjoyed every minute. Angela’s parents had moved to Arizona when Dad retired a few months ago. Now their mother was busy building her kingdom in Scottsdale since she’d never been successful at empire building in Silicon Valley, as if the tech world didn’t value a former construction worker, even if he’d built his business into a multimillion-dollar corporation.
Sienna went on with her description of the party. “I’m not inviting all my friends for this. I just want close family.”
Teresa stole a glance at Angela, one perfectly plucked eyebrow raised. Angela knew why Sienna didn’t want to invite her friends. She’d already had a big bash on her actual birthday last week. Of course, Donald called Angela to gloat. Sienna hadn’t invited her because, Donald imparted with glee, their son Matthew wouldn’t attend if his mother was there. If she and Sienna had a cool relationship, then she could safely say she had no relationship with her son, who was two years younger than his sister. He sent the obligatory birthday and Christmas gifts, but he rarely accepted her invitations to lunch. She had no idea how to repair their non-existent relationship. At least Sienna had given her openings she could step through, like the lunch today. But she’d obviously chosen her brother for her birthday bash.
Angela didn’t call her on the slight fabrication. It would serve no purpose. “That would be wonderful. Nonni and Poppa will be so glad to see you this summer.” Her mother didn’t like the March rain in the San Francisco Bay Area, although this year they weren’t getting much.
Sienna shut the door on any more questions and grabbed her menu. “The waiter will be here to take our orders, and I haven’t even looked.”
He arrived shortly after Sienna had decided on the shrimp salad, dressing on the side.
Even though Angela knew all about weight gain at menopause—honestly, just a couple of pounds—she ordered the lobster salad with melted butter while Teresa went for the lasagna.
“This is a special day and calories don’t count,” Teresa said cheerily.
Sienna smiled, and in the half minute of silence, Angela decided there was no better time to make her offer. Sienna couldn’t be buttered up. She’d either say yes or no.
“Sweetheart, I have a proposition for your birthday gift.”
Sienna picked up her wine as if she needed fortification. “It’s just a thirtieth birthday. You don’t need to do anything special, Mother.”
Angela hadn’t been Mom or Mommy since Sienna was eight years old. She was always Mother. In the teenage years, Sienna had said it with capital letters and two exaggerated syllables.
“It’s very special. And I want to do something to celebrate. Remember I went to Santorini right after I graduated from university?”
Sienna nodded, her gaze wary.
Angela pushed on. “I’d really like to go back, and I thought we could go together to celebrate your thirtieth birthday. I can show you all the places I visited. Since you went to work right out of college, you didn’t have a chance to do anything fun. Maybe now is the right time.”
Sienna jumped in immediately, as if she didn’t even have to think up an excuse. “Mother, I’m trying to get another job. I can’t go to a new company and suddenly take off for a trip to Santorini.” A slight edge of disgust laced her voice.
Until today, Angela hadn’t known about a new job, and Sienna’s quick words squashed her hopes. She tried anyway. “Maybe we could do something between jobs. The trip will be on me. For your birthday.”
Donald was worth millions, and Angela had wrangled a very good divorce settlement after thirty years of marriage. She could afford to take her daughter on a nice trip. Sienna had never asked her father for money. She had a modest apartment in San Francisco, and she paid for everything herself. Unlike Matthew, who had gone directly from university to work for Donald, Sienna had wanted to make it on her own. And she was doing so well. She’d even moved to something pricier than her studio apartment with the galley kitchen where she’d lived the first three years after graduating.
The problem was that making the trip between jobs meant they’d have to go fairly soon, but Angela had planned on June. “Or you can tell them you have a trip already in the works for this summer. That way, you get your feet wet and learn everything before you go.”
Teresa was making an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle, as if she was trying to warn Angela that she was moving too fast and pushing too hard. But she wanted this so badly.
Sienna was adamant. “There’s absolutely no way I can do that, Mother. If you’d ever been in the work world, you’d know that.”
Angela felt the stick right up in her ribs, the pointy end jabbing her heart.
Sienna was nothing like her mother. They’d both gone to college, but where Angela had taken a month off for a European vacation, Sienna had gone straight to work. Where Angela had never used her teaching degree and instead married right after returning from that trip, Sienna had never had a long-term relationship. Through Teresa, Angela knew her daughter dated, but there’d never been a serious man. Sienna wanted to meet her career goals before she considered marriage and children. Angela wasn’t sure Sienna even wanted children.
Sienna started, looked up. Angela could almost feel the kick Teresa had given her under the table.
“Why don’t we do this…” At least Sienna didn’t say MOTHER in capital letters. “Let me get through this interview, see where everything settles, then you and I can talk.”
Angela answered with enthusiasm, as if her heart hadn’t been trampled. “That’ll be wonderful. We can talk about it later.”
She smiled, though she was afraid that “later” would bring an even more explicit rejection.
2
Sienna felt a stab of guilt at the fall of her mom’s features, though Mother tried to cover it up quickly. This wasn’t how Sienna wanted the birthday lunch to go down, and she added, to take the harshness out of her words, “I’ll really try, Mother. But this is a difficult time for me to get away. I’m sorry.”
She hated herself for apologizing. Her mother had apologized to her all her life and yet still held Sienna back. As a child, Sienna wasn’t allowed to go on a visit to the Exploratorium in San Francisco with her brother and father, or a fishing trip in the Sierras, or countless other outings because those excursions were for father-son bonding. When Sienna wanted her dad to come in for career day, her mom said he didn’t have the kind of career that would interest the other students. They wanted firefighters and policemen, not stockbrokers and hedge fund managers. When she wanted to go to the senior prom with an older boy, her mother told her it wasn’t appropriate, and he went with someone else. The worst, however, was that her mother always had her dad do the dirty work, making him say, “Your mother doesn’t think you should do that,” as if she’d swallow it more easily from Dad than from her mother.
