Seven Days of Friday (Women of Greece Book 1) by Alex A. King Read Free Book Online

pastitsio , with its bubbling béchamel sauce, from the oven, eases the whole pasta and meat dish onto a large wooden chopping board. Then it’s goodbye, oven mitts.
    She won’t sit yet. No tactical advantage.
    “I made galaktobouriko , too. Plenty for you to take home.”
    Figures. “You just reprimanded me for giving Melissa sugary drinks, but desserts are okay?”
    Eleni waves her magic hand and Vivi’s objections disappear. “It is the chemicals. My galaktobouriko is natural – no preservatives or colors made in a laboratory.”
    Her galaktobouriko , Vivi’s ass.
    Eleni can’t make sweets to save her own life. A thousand times, Vivi and Chris sat in this kitchen, ate her mistakes like they were good, ate like they had a choice.
    Too sweet.
    Too salty.
    Too Hindenburg.
    Ten bucks says Eleni rushed down to the local Greek restaurant this afternoon, demanded a whole tray of the custard and pastry dish. If Vivi checked the trash she’d find the foil stashed at the bottom, under the bags – guaranteed.
    “What is that look for, eh?”
    Vivi says, “What look?”
    “That look.”
    “There’s no look.”
    “Trust me, there is a look. Your brother loves my desserts. I always fix them for him. He comes every weekend.”
    Yeah, that’s a lie. Vivi spoke to Chris a week ago, before her world exploded. Six weeks Eleni-free, he bragged. Laughed about how he deserved a chip.
    “How's Trish?”
    Trish is a sweetheart, but not a good enough wife for Chris, in Eleni’s book. Not rich enough, not fertile enough, not Greek enough.
    She doesn’t say it now, though. She’s too busy poking through the liquor cabinet, searching for something that doesn’t seem to be there. “He called last night to talk to his mama. He is such a good boy.”
    Typical Mom, sidestepping the question. “Trish is good for him. She keeps him grounded.”
    Mom straightens up. “No more brandy.”
    “I don’t mind.”
    “But your father will. We must get some. Where is Melissa?”
    Melissa materializes in the doorway. “Here.”
    Eleni tugs off her apron, scoops the handles of her purse over one forearm. “Your mother is driving us to the store.”
    Melissa flops into a chair. “I'm not going.”
    “Of course you are going,” Eleni says. “What else is there to do?”
    Shrug. “Read, or I'll go to the garage with Grampy.”
    “She can stay here if she wants to. She’ll be fine with Dad.” Vivi says.
    Eleni licks her finger, rubs at invisible smut on Vivi’s cheek. “I don't think so,” she says in distant voice.
    Five minutes later Melissa leaves the house with them. The Eleni Pappas steamroller crushed the protest right out of her, too.
----
    T he Liquor Shack isn’t far. A couple of blocks. Mom barks directions; plays drill sergeant while Melissa slouches in the backseat.
    What’s she going to do with that girl?
    Parking lot full, liquor store empty. The red-roofed Pizza Hut is where the party is happening. The Liquor Shack's Indian clerk looks up when they walk in. Short guy in a white turban.
    He nods at Melissa. “Is she twenty-one?”
    “Twenty-two,” Eleni says.
    “She does not look twenty-two.”
    “Okay.” Eleni turns on one heel. “Come, Vivi, Melissa. We go somewhere else where they do not hate Greek customers and call us liars.”
    “He didn’t call me a liar,” Vivi says. “He called you a liar.”
    The clerk doesn’t look like a happy man. “I do not hate Greek customers, just underage customers, because the authorities will take away my liquor license.”
    “I already told you she is twenty-three,” Eleni says.
    “You said twenty-two.”
    Eleni shrugs. “Today is her birthday.”
    Yeah, he’s still not happy. But he’s not in any hurry to chase Melissa out. It’s been a slow day, and the middle woman looks thirsty.
    Eleni shuts up until they’re a row away from the liqueurs. Then she says, “Why did John leave you?”
    Panic, panic.
    Vivi throws a glance over one shoulder, but the