"I can't-Please, Paige."
Paige gripped her arm firmly. "You'll do what I say."
Susannah tried to push her away, but her limbs had no strength. Although it was late, people were still milling around. She realized with paralyzing certainty that Paige was going to parade her in front of everyone in the airport and that she couldn't do anything to stop her.
She was wrong. Her sister led her into a private lounge and immediately brought her a cup of coffee. Her stomach rebelled at the smell and she pushed it away. Paige searched through her case and pulled out the passport that Susannah always kept there. She slipped it into her own purse, then went over to a phone bank and began making calls. A little later she returned.
"There's a British Airways flight leaving for Heathrow in an hour. I've booked us seats. We'll pick up a plane to Athens from there."
"Athens?" she repeated dully. "I can't go to Greece. I have a job."
"Your job will hold for a few weeks. I've got this house on Naxos." For the first time, Paige hesitated. "It's nice there. The sun's hot and everything's white and pure." And then her mouth grew sullen, as if she didn't really care whether Susannah accepted or not.
Susannah covered her cheek with her hand. "I can't possibly go away. I have responsibilities." Even as she forced out the words, she couldn't imagine going to work on Monday and facing Sam again.
Paige stared out into the middle of the lounge and plucked at one of the bead-spangled flowers on the skirt of her evening gown. "I have these cats. They're silly, really. Not pedigreed or anything. But I want to show them to you."
A strange combination of belligerence and yearning mingled in Paige's voice. She continued to pick at the beads on her skirt. Susannah stared across the lounge and tried to take in what had happened to her, but the pain kept her mind from working. Suddenly, it seemed perfectly reasonable that she should fly halfway around the world to see Paige's cats. At least she wouldn't have to go to work on Monday.
The rocky islands of the Cyclades lie spattered over the turquoise waters of the Aegean like so many pebbles flung by a giant fist. Birthplace of ancient myths and legends, the islands are a mecca for lovers of Greek antiquity. The spirit of Narcissus is said to have been reincarnated on Mykonos, Thira is suspected to be the lost continent of Atlantis, and Naxos was the refuge of Ariadne after she saved Theseus from the labyrinth of her father, King Minos.
Susannah had been to the Greek islands several times before, although never to the island of Naxos. As the battered jeep made its way inland from the dusty airstrip, a white-hot sun hovered in the bleached sky overhead. They had left the tourist town of Chora with its discotheques and Coca-Cola signs far behind and were crossing the heart of the island. Susannah was barely aware of the breathtaking contrasts around her-the stark moonscape of rocky hills silhouetted against the brilliant blue green of the sea. Squat windmills perched near slopes terraced with vineyards, fruit, and olive trees. The gears of the old jeep ground ominously as they made their way through the steep twisting streets of the villages, some so narrow that the driver had to stop and wait for a donkey to pass because there was not enough room for both animal and vehicle to travel side by side.
Susannah's eyes scratched like sandpaper against splintered wood and her body ached with exhaustion. They had been traveling forever. She was no longer even certain what day it was, and she couldn't remember why she had ever agreed to come on this trip.
Paige sat silently next to her. The fierce glare of the late afternoon sun turned her tumbled hair into tarnished silver. In her rumpled, soiled evening gown, she looked beautiful and dissolute, like a ruined playgirl left over from a Fitzgerald novel. She had handled passports and tickets, the delay at Heathrow, the complex arrangements to get to Naxos, all the business of traveling that Susannah normally managed so expertly. In all that time Susannah hadn't spoken a word to her.
It was evening when they reached the cottage on the eastern side of the island. Susannah stumbled numbly into the room Paige indicated. She was aware of the sound of the sea and clean lavender-scented sheets. Then she slept.
When she awoke late the next morning, sunlight was trickling through the closed shutters and throwing hyphens of light on the white stucco walls of the room. Her body felt heavy and sore as she made her way into the tiny bathroom. She showered, then slipped into a pair of seersucker shorts and a light blue halter top she found lying across the foot of the bed.
She winced as she stepped out into the rustic interior of the cottage's main room and a blaze of sunlight hit her full in the face. A sharp pain pierced her temple. She made her way over to the open screenless windows and saw that the white stucco cottage clung precariously to a barren hillside overlooking the sea. Even though she had vacationed on the Aegean several times before, she had forgotten the depth of the water's jewellike tones. It spread before her like a bottomless pool of azure tears.
She turned back to the room and tried to find some sense of peace in the simplicity of her surroundings. An earthenware bowl of peaches sat on the scrubbed wooden table, while a basket of geraniums caught the sunlight in one of the windows. The windowframes, shutters, and door were all painted the same bright cerulean blue as the Aegean, and the thick stucco walls of the cottage were so crisp and clean, they looked as if they had just been whitewashed. She felt as if she had been plunged into a world where only three colors existed-the dull gray-brown tones of the bare hillside, the blazing white of stucco and sky, and the rich, cerulean blue of sea, shutters, and doorway.
A fat tabby walked across the flagstone floor and rubbed against her ankles. "That's Rudy," Paige said, coming into the room from outside. "Misha's taking a nap on the patio."
Paige wore a faded bandanna top and a pair of cutoff's so threadbare that her skin beneath was visible in several places. Her feet were bare, her face free of makeup, and she had snared her hair into an untidy ponytail. Even so, she looked beautiful.
Susannah couldn't believe that she had put herself in the position of being dependent on Paige. She had to get out of here. As soon as possible, she had to leave.
"You look like shit," Paige said, picking up the blue and white striped dish towel that hung next to the stone sink in the kitchen and using it to pull a fragrant loaf of brown bread from the oven. "Go keep Misha company on the patio. The table's all set and breakfast is almost ready."
"You shouldn't have bothered," Susannah said coldly. "I've made a mistake. I have to get back."
Paige set a sweating pitcher of fruit juice on top of a tray that held two blue glass goblets. "Carry this out. I'll be there in a few minutes."
For the moment it was easier to do as she was told than to argue. Susannah stepped through the door onto a patio paved with smooth brown pebbles. She squinted while her eyes adjusted to the light and the breathtaking view of sky and sea below. An old olive-wood gateleg table holding handwoven place mats, ceramic plates, and cutlery was sheltered from the sun by a lacy network of jasmine trees growing up from the other side of the stucco wall. Wooden chairs sat at each end, their rush seats covered with plump blue pillows. Flowers spilled over the tops of fat pottery crocks, and the old stone head of a lion provided a spot of shade for a sleeping cat.
The animal looked up as Susannah set the tray on the table. Then he stretched, yawned, and went back to sleep. Paige began bringing out food: mugs of coffee, a bowl of eggs soft-boiled in their speckled brown shells, a majolica plate arranged with a sunburst of melon slivers. She cut the bread she had just baked into thick slices and then spread one with butter. It melted into little amber puddles as she held it out to Susannah.
Susannah shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't feel like eating."