That's Amore! - Janelle Denison [39]
"Ptew, he's not fit for you to mention his name, to kleftis," Kiriakos said, spitting, although thankfully off to the side rather than on her.
Efi knew the word kleftis meant thief, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out why her grandfather would be calling his best friend a thief. Gus owned an antique furniture store not far from the pastry shop and was an upstanding citizen. They'd been friends for over twenty years.
"No matter. We will not let him spoil your special week now, will we?" her grandfather asked, kissing her again.
"I'm sure it's nothing that can't be worked out," she said.
"Never," he said, and moved on.
Kiki took a deep breath. "Well, that was enlightening."
Efi made a face at her friend, then caught sight of Nick behind a short, stout woman bearing down on her and her stomach lightened. "I need to talk to Nick."
Kiki groaned. "God, I feel sick just watching the two of you. You don't mind if I go get some air?"
Efi waved her friend away. "Go for it. Oh, and keep your eyes peeled for any potential grooms. I may be related or about to be related to every attractive, single male in the room, but you aren't."
"I wouldn't marry a Greek if you paid me. I have to live with them. You don't expect me to marry one, too?"
Efi gaped at her.
Kiki grinned and disappeared into the crowd.
EFI CAME TO UNDERSTAND that the difference between her family and Nick's was that the Constantinos family liked to put the opa into a party. Sometime after eleven, a trio of musicians set up outside on the back patio with a bouzouki, a baglama and a clarinet. Warm lanterns had been lit all around and within minutes the sound of a tsiftetelli, traditional Greek dance music, filled the fragrant night air. Thankfully it was warm for May, so while a few wore sweaters, the guests for the most part were warmed by drink and the promise of dancing.
By all accounts, the new focus should have allowed her and Nick the freedom to be near each other, if not the opportunity to disappear altogether for a few precious minutes. Instead, the families seemed even more determined to keep them apart. They were all bent on making it clear there would be no more secret meetings in the pantry. No more mysterious knee jerks under the table.
Efi watched the guests spill out onto the back patio and tried to make her way toward where Nick was chatting with one of her uncles when Kiki grabbed her arm.
"Not you, too," Efi complained.
Kiki flashed a smile. "I'm just saving you from dealing with your mother."
Penelope indeed was a couple of feet away closely watching her daughter. Efi fought an eye roll. You'd think she was sixteen and a virgin the way her family was carrying on. Then again, they were probably trying to save themselves from embarrassment. After all, it was hard to host a proper wedding party if the bride and the groom were off somewhere squeezing in a little nooky time.
Efi allowed Kiki to lead her to a corner of the patio. The band launched into their first tune, an old one that almost always got everyone up to dance. Efi laughed as her uncle Iakavo took her hand and led her to the makeshift stage, encouraging her to lead in the traditional line dance.
There were many things she loved about being Greek and this was one of them. She had plenty of non-Greek friends and marveled at the way they celebrated events. Never would you find a bouzouki band at her friend Teresa Galwart's house. Or a lamb roasting over a pit in the backyard of Janice Collingwood's place. There had been a period in her teens where she'd loathed being so different from other families. But somewhere down the line she'd learned to celebrate it.
She looked to where Nick was being pulled into the line and grinned at him, happier than she could ever remember being.
"Jesus. Who in the hell is that?" Kiki asked next to her after cutting into the line.
Efi blinked. "Who's who?"
"Tight red dress at two o'clock."
Efi looked and saw one of her plump aunts kicking up quite a dance.
"I said two o'clock, not four."
Efi shifted her gaze. And as she did