“Whatever. How’d it come up? Tell me everything.”
Joanna told her about their dinner date and what Peter had said.
“So you had to ask him? That’s kind of forcing his hand, don’t you think?”
“You don’t know Peter. Ido. He wouldn’t lie to me to just placate me. How it happened is how it needed to happen. He’s going to start saying it more and more now I’m sure.”
“And will you say it back?”
“Of course I will. Will you stop it? I know what I like. This isn’t about the past. It’s about the future.”
“Just keep your apartment, OK?”
“What? He works in real estate, remember.”
“So what? Just keep it to be safe. You never know, he might turn into a controlling jerk when you move in.”
“Bye, Donna,” Joanna said and hung up.
Yes, she could be annoying sometimes but she also knew Donna was being a good friend by voicing all of the doubts and uncertainties she wouldn’t allow herself to actively think about.
Once again her phone rang. It was the long number again from the early hours of this morning. She had completely forgotten about it. She thought about sending it to voicemail again so she could soak in fully the spring morning air, but decided at the last moment to answer.
“Hello?”
“Yes, hello,” a male voice said in a heavy European accent. Joanna couldn’t place which one. “Am I speaking with …” he paused, “Miss Joanna Nelson?”
Frowning, she told him he was.
“Good, good. My name is Nick Artinos. I represent your father.”
Joanna laughed. Her father? She had never met the guy - didn’t even know his name or what he looked like. “My father?” she repeated.
“Nai, yes.”
Joanna’s heart pulsed in her throat for a moment and she sat down.
“Is this a joke? You’re joking, right?”
“No, it’s not a joke. No joke.”
“ I don’t know anything about my father, and I doubt he knows anything about me. What is this about? Who are you?”
“I’m your father’s lawyer. He did know about you, Miss Joanna, but I’m sad to say he passed away a couple of weeks ago. I represent him in his death. He’s left his daughter, he’s leftyouan inheritance. Here in Skiathos.”
Joanna’s brain whirled as she tried to process this.
“Skiathos?”
“Ellada. Greece, Miss Joanna. Skiathos is in Greece. It’s where your father’s from. It’s where… well, it’s where your family’s from.”
Her mouth dropped open in surprise. She knew from her mother that she was the result of an ill-advised vacation romance in Europe some thirty years before but …
“How soon can you get here, Miss Joanna?” the lawyer asked.
“I— is this for real? I can’t possibly go there. I’ve got a job. An important one. I’m very busy.” Then she added in a whisper. “What did he leave me?”
“That I’m afraid I cannot tell you,” the lawyer replied. “You must come to Skiathos to find out. That is one of the conditions.”
