“Has Louisa had any luck?” Skye asked. “I know she was looking for something.”
Joy accepted a mug of coffee, turning it so she could drink from the nonchipped side. Despite having bought new crockery, Skye remained attached to the items donated by Andreas. Her own mug had a faded map of the island on one side, and “I don’tneed therapy, I just need a trip to Folegandros” printed on the other.
“Nothing yet,” Joy said, “although she has been looking after little Iris and Ajax now and then. Cora and Klodi are so tied up with running the mini-market, especially now that there are more tourists here.”
“Don’t most people stay in Chora?” Skye asked. The idea of strangers traipsing through Ano Meria made her uneasy.
“Yeah,” Joy said, “but more and more of them are starting to discover this place. Pantelis had a full house for lunch last week at the taverna.”
That explained his continuing inability to make time for her external plastering.
“Maybe Louisa should work for him,” Skye suggested.
Joy lowered her mug.
“Bloody good idea that, although I think she’d rather be employed by Andreas, if you know what I mean?”
Skye avoided having to reply by turning away to slice the cake.
“I haven’t told you my news, have I?” Joy continued.
“News?”
“Yeah, I met this fella from the Netherlands down at the beach the other day. He runs a gallery in Chora. Sander, his name is. Anyway, we got to chatting, and he’s offered me a slot, says they do a good trade, especially during the summer months. If I can get a few pieces done over the next few weeks, he reckons he can sell them through July and August.”
“That’s brilliant,” Skye enthused, passing her a plate. “What are you going to paint?”
“Well…” Joy took a bite of the cake, and her eyes rolled back theatrically. “Christ, that’s good. Yeah, anyway, that’s actually why I popped round. I was hoping you’d let me paint you.”
“Me?” Skye said. “Why me?”
“Don’t look so surprised. You’re bloody gorgeous, what with all that blond hair and delicate bone structure. My plan is to do a Greek gods and goddesses series, only modernized, put the old Monroe twist on them, you know. I want you to be my Aphrodite.”
“But I’m not Greek.”
“You’re not a goddess, either, but since when has reality stood in the way of artistic creation?”
Skye put her plate in the sink.
“Wasn’t Aphrodite traditionally depicted naked?” she said.
“Well, you’re welcome to do it in the nuddy if you like,” Joy began.
“No! God, no.”
Joy let out a chuckle.
“Don’t worry,” she said. “There won’t be any nudity, and I won’t ask you to wear anything silly. I know I kid around a lot, but when it comes to art, I’m deadly serious.”
“I don’t know.” Skye’s fingers curled around each other. “Can I think about it?”
“Sure.” Joy began rinsing out her empty mug before adding lightly, “Done thinking yet?”
Skye was, in fact, thinking about her dad. He’d have loved Joy.
Though he’d worked with clay, Cosmo MacKinnon had always been drawn to paintings—portraits in particular. He used to call them “maps of the soul.” She knew what he would’ve said had he been there to say it, and yet…
“I’m just not sure,” she told Joy. “Can you start with someone else? What about Victoria?”
