McMAHON was born and raised in the South USA, but settled in California after spending a year flying around the world for an international airline. After settling down to raise a family and work for a computer firm, she began writing when her children started school. Now, feeling fortunate in being able to realise a longheld dream of quitting her ‘day job’ and writing full time, she and her husband have moved to the Sierra Nevada mountains of California, where she finds her desire to write is stronger than ever. With the beauty of the mountains visible from her windows and the pace of life slower than the hectic San Francisco Bay Area where they previously resided, she finds more time than ever to think up stories and characters and share them with others through writing. Barbara loves to hear from readers. You can reach her at PO Box 977, Pioneer, CA 95666-0977, USA. Readers can also contact Barbara at her website: www. barbaramcmahon.com
To Ruth Johnson, with love and friendship.
You make being in the NSDAR even
more special!
CHAPTER ONE
SARA ANDROPOLOUS leaned over to view the pastry from all angles. It looked perfect. Satisfied, she slid it onto one of the delicate china plates and drizzled a bit of honey on top. Two mint leaves completed the presentation and she smiled. One down, five more to do in less than five minutes.
Working swiftly, she finished the last in less than the allotted time. Perfection.
She’d been on her feet for five hours, yet she felt as fresh as if she’d just started. She loved creating works of art for consumption. Time flew, and she was absorbed in her work to the exclusion of all else.
“See how this pleases your guests,” she murmured in a one-sided imaginary conversation with Nikos Konstantinos.
When Sara had first arrived in Greece four months ago, her temporary assignment at the
As the yacht gently bobbed on the sea, Sara wondered for the nth time if she were really any closer to her goal. It had seemed meant to be when her friend Stacy had discovered that Sara’s grandmother had remarried and found where she had been living all these years. When Stacy had then told her five months ago about an opening at the exclusive Greek resort owned by the grandson of the man her grandmother had married, Sara had applied instantly for the job. Amazingly, she’d been hired within two weeks of her first interview. Being Greek herself and knowing the language had been a big plus. But she also liked to think her accomplishments had commanded the attention of the interviewer. The lavish salary she was getting indicated they expected no less than outstanding work.
So far things had progressed better than she’d expected. After only four months in Greece, it was nothing short of miraculous that she’d been promoted to temporary chef on Nikos Konstantinos’s luxury yacht. With any luck, at some point, they would put in at the island his family owned—the key to getting to her grandmother. How she was to accomplish the next step was beyond her at the moment. Still, she was closer than ever. Time would present the opportunity she needed.
Stretching her muscles, she placed the desserts on the elegant silver tray and put it on the open area of the counter where the steward would pick it up to deliver to the guests in the main dining salon. It was after nine and she was just about finished for the day. She felt revved up, wide-awake and not at all ready to go to bed, though she’d been up before six every morning to prepare breakfast.
The chef on the yacht Cassandra had become suddenly ill with appendicitis, and she’d been selected to fill the role until he recovered. As the chief chef at the resort had explained when selecting her for the assignment, their boss, resort owner Nikos Konstantinos, had guests expected for a week’s cruise around the Aegean and needed someone versatile enough for all meals and desserts. The chief chef had recommended her even though she was the newest member of the kitchen staff. She still couldn’t believe her luck. At this rate she’d finally meet her grandmother before the month was out!
Her intelligence unit, as she called her friends in London who had rallied round to help her get to Greece once they’d learned of her goal, were certain her mother’s mother was living on the Konstantinos family island in the Aegean. Strategically isolated for privacy, the island offered no way to gain access unless a family member brought guests. Since her letter had been returned unopened, her phone call refused and no e-mail address available, she knew no one would vouch for her. To the contrary, she suspected if she petitioned Nikos Konstantinos directly, he’d have her fired on the spot and erect even stronger barriers between her and her grandmother. She was not going to put that to the test. She’d find a way onto the island on her own.
If she could just meet the woman, maybe she could ignore some of that stiff Greek pride that apparently ran rampant in her mother’s family and tell Eleani Konstantinos about her daughter’s death, and the last words her mother had said—how she wished she could have reconciled with her parents. It had been too late by the time Damaris Andropolous had uttered those words. She had died two days later.
Sara wanted to carry them back, heal a breach that had split the family for almost thirty years. She had been working more than a year to achieve that aim to fulfill the promise she had made to her mother just before she died.
Was the end really in sight?
Looking back, the best thing her mother had ever done was insist Sara learn Greek. Most of their family friends in London had been of Greek descent, a close-knit community of Greek expats who had loved to celebrate special occasions together. Her friend Stacy swore she loved the English lifestyle more than anything, yet she, too, had studied their ancestors’ language. Sara knew her fluency in Greek had landed her this job, she was sure of it. She had had no difficulty in adapting to life at the resort. It was a delightful change from the rainy weather she’d left in London and she’d thrown herself into her job with determination that had obviously paid off.
As she put the pots and bowls she’d used to prepare the evening meal in the sink to soak, Sara thought about how she’d approach her grandmother—if she got the chance. Stacy had been a font of information, relying on the gossip of her own cousins who still lived in Greece. Sara’s grandfather had died several years ago, and Eleani had remarried Spiros Konstantinos, head of the legendary Konstantinos Shipping empire. Sara had scrambled to find out as much information as she could about the family, only to come up with very little.
They obviously used a good deal of the money they made ensuring privacy.
“I’m late. Sorry. Won’t happen again,” Stefano said as he swooped up the tray of desserts. The steward was late at least once a day—and always claiming it wouldn’t happen again. She had gotten used to it and if Nikos Konstantinos didn’t care, she certainly didn’t.
“Looks delicious, as usual. I’ll get it up to the guests.” He talked so fast Sara sometimes had trouble understanding him. She made sure he had all he needed for the guests, then began preparing a tray for the crew.
When Stefano returned, he leaned against the door and let out a long breath. “So the daughter is turning up her charm. I suspect this is a cruise to ensure the lovely Gina Fregulia and Nikos have a chance to get to know each
