When the Cypress Whispers by Yvette Manessis Corporon Read Free Book Online Page B

luggage-saddled back, continually patting his neck as he lumbered along the cracked, uneven pavement. Daphne walked right beside Jack and Evie, never taking her eyes off her little girl, arms poised and ready just in case Evie somehow slipped from her happy perch.
    As soon as they reached the white-and-blue-painted sign that read “Welcome to Hotel Nitsa,” Yia-yia stopped and turned to Daphne.
    “Daphne, mou . Do you want to go and say hello to Nitsa? To tell her you are here. She asks me every day when you will be arriving. You should see her, Daphne, the way she buzzes around like she is planning her own daughter’s wedding.” Yia-yia shook her head. The tone of her voice changed as she sighed deeply.
    Daphne knew what was coming next. She braced herself for the lament song she knew would follow. Listening to the wailing and moaning of the island women had always been Daphne’s very own version of fingernails scratching on a chalkboard.
    “Ahhhhaaaa.” Yia-yia shook her head and began to half speak, half sing. “Ahh, poor Nitsa, poor widowed and childless Nitsa. It is as if she is planning her own daughter’s wedding, the daughter she never knew, never could have. Poor lonely and childless Nitsa.”
    Nitsa was the lovely grandmotherly woman who ran the small rustic hotel with more care than if it was a Ritz-Carlton resort. It was the only hotel on the island and the simplest of accommodations. But what Hotel Nitsa lacked in luxury, it more than made up for in cleanliness and hospitality. Inside the lobby, the small reception/bar area opened to a flower-filled terrace that Daphne knew would be the perfect location for her wedding reception.
    Nitsa had been thrilled when Daphne called with the news and a request to book the entire hotel for the celebration. Business had been slow lately, and this windfall was a lifesaver to Nitsa, who was a widow herself and relied on the fickle tourist trade to make ends meet.
    Daphne looked from Yia-yia to the hotel’s front doors. As much as she was looking forward to seeing Nitsa, Daphne didn’t really want to talk business right now. All she wanted to do was get home, kick off her shoes, sit under the lemon tree, and dive into whatever feast Yia-yia had prepared.
    “Let’s just go home, Yia-yia. I can go visit Nitsa later.”
    “All right,” Yia-yia replied. “You must be tired and hungry, let’s get home. I have many wonderful surprises waiting for you. We can see Nitsa later. Jack, ella , let’s go.” Yia-yia clicked her tongue several times as a signal to her four-legged companion to get moving again. But just as Yia-yia was about to lift her walking stick and take her first step, the doors to the hotel burst open.
    He was tall, deeply tanned, and bearded—handsome, but not in the traditional sense of the word. There was something unkempt about his appearance: the crooked nose that looked as if it might have been broken in a bar brawl, the weathered face with its dense, gray-streaked facial hair, which made him attractive in the most primal way. Daphne had never seen him before.
    He rushed down the stairs and into Yia-yia’s path.
    “Yianni mou !” Yia-yia shouted, lifting her walking stick into the air.
    “Thea Evangelia.” A warm smile spread across his face as he spotted her. He stepped into her arms and kissed her on each cheek.
    “Yianni mou . I was worried about you. I have not seen you in days. I thought you forgot about me,” Yia-yia teased.
    “Thea Evangelia, how could I possibly forget about you, the most unforgettable woman on the island? I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to leave without saying good-bye, but I didn’t think I would be gone this long. I had to pick up a part for my boat in Kerkyra . That malaka sent me the wrong propeller last time, and I lost two days collecting my nets. But now—” Yianni held up a plain brown paper package in his hand as if it were a trophy. “Now I can get back to my nets and my boat.” Yianni never looked