Chapter 5: The Open Door

My father came to Sunday coffee in a good grey suit with a gold cross at his open collar.

He kissed Eleni's hand.

He shook Costa's.

Then he took the old man's hand in both of his and looked into his face with real warmth.

"Aristides," he said. "It's been too long. I was sorry about your boy."

The old man said nothing.

He did not take his hand back until my father let go.

I stood beside the table with a tray, because I had been told to bring coffee, and I brought it.

My father took the cup from me and looked me over.

"She looks well," he said to the room. "She stands well. You see? She never sat down in her life."

Nobody in the room answered him.

I kept my face still.

He kissed my forehead.

His mouth was cold and dry.

His hand stayed on the back of my neck a second too long, the way it always had.

"Walk me out, Thalia," he said.

I walked him out.

The grey Mercedes waited under the live oak.

He did not get in.

He stood there with the winter sun on his silver hair and talked pleasantly about my mother's grave.

Then he said, without changing his voice, "His boats go to the Gulf twice a month."

"I want the lanes, the crews and the hour," my father said. "By the end of the month."

"Yes, Papa."

"Make him trust you," my father said. "He is a lonely old man and you are a clever girl."

"Yes, Papa," I said.

"You will find," my father said, "that a house is easier than the work. Pour, smile, listen. It's a rest, really."

He patted my cheek twice, lightly.

When the car had gone through the gate I stood under the oak with my palm against my cheek.

Aris Pallis was on the porch.

He had watched all of it.