A Bouquet of Love (26 page)

“Why, yes.” Babbas rose and shook the stranger's hand. “How did you—”

“I'd recognize you anywhere from Athena's description.” Lenora giggled. “Oh, this new show is going to be
fab
-u-lous!” She grabbed a slice of pizza. “Ooh, speaking of fabulous! This is the yummiest thing I've ever eaten. We just can't get real Italian food in Beverly Hills.”

I looked around as everyone began to talk at once. What bliss! I reached to give Alex's hand a squeeze. He squeezed back, then kissed me on the cheek. “I think it's going better than expected. Don't you?”

“Definitely.” I couldn't get over the fact that the sitcom producer had so easily swept Babbas and Laz into a common conversation about the show. And Brock! He engaged my father multiple times, puffing up his ego with flattering remarks about all of the fun stories he'd heard.

“Seems like you've made quite an impression on Galveston, Mr. Pappas,” Brock said. “People here seem to really love your family and your shop.”

“Well, to be honest, we were toying with the idea of moving back to California.” Babbas leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting to Laz and then back to Brock. “But I think we will be staying on the island after all.” He glanced at Mama. “It's growing on me.” He took a sip of his tea, his eyes widening in delight. “And starting Monday morning, I'm adding sweet tea to the menu! This is amazing.”

“Wonderful news, all of it!” Brock took a bite of pizza, then swiped the sauce from his lips. “And just for the record, this show will be comedic—deliberately funny. But we don't expect the two of you”—he pointed at Laz and Babbas—“to really go on feuding just to keep the ratings up.”

“Not that it
ever
hurts to keep the ratings up!” Lenora giggled and grabbed a piece of baklava.

Laz gave my father a sheepish look as he reached for a gyro. “I can't really blame Niko here for wanting his business to succeed.” Everyone on both sides of the tables grew silent at this proclamation. “That's what we all want, especially those of us with families to support.”

Mama lifted her glass of sweet tea and hollered, “Opa!” The Rossis lifted their glasses and responded in kind.

“Must be a guy thing, right, Niko?” Laz looked my father in the eye for the first time all day.

Babbas took a swig of his sweet tea and nodded. “We compete because we care about those we love and want to do our best by them.”

“Wait . . . a guy thing?” Bella crossed her arms at her chest and stared at her uncle. “What are we?” She pointed to all of the female business owners in attendance. “Chopped liver?”

“What do you mean, Bella?” Laz gave her a curious look.

“I run my own business, Uncle Laz. And so does Hannah.” She gestured to Hannah, who had risen to take photos of our group. “And Sophia. And Marcella. And Scarlet. And Gabi.” She pointed at me. “And Cassia too.”

“We're all working to keep our businesses going, just like the men,” Marcella said. “And it's just as hard for us.”

“Maybe harder,” Bella said. “Have you ever tried to coordinate a wedding and battle morning sickness at the same time?”

“Can't say that I have,” Laz said. “But that doesn't mean you've got it harder because you're female.”

Oh. Ouch. The temperature on the Strand shot up by a good ten degrees at that statement.

To his credit, Laz probably hadn't meant to turn this into a battle of the sexes, but that's just what it became. Heated conversations filled the air, most of them between Laz and Rosa, who claimed that she played a larger role in their Food Network show than he did. Laz didn't take that news very well. And by the time Bella's parents joined in with their two cents' worth, I felt like scooting back inside Super-Gyros for some peace and quiet.

Peace and quiet at Super-Gyros? Ha! For the first time ever it occurred to me that my family, loud and crazy as they might be, didn't hold a candle to the Rossi family. They gave new meaning to chaos and confusion.

Before I could give it any more thought, Mama stood and waved her arms to bring the argument to an end. “I need your attention, everyone!” she called out. “Attention, please!”

When the noise level fell, she turned to Babbas and offered a mischievous grin. “I have an announcement to make, Niko, and it concerns you.”

“O-oh?” Babbas's unibrow slipped back into place as his forehead wrinkled in concern. I didn't blame him, after the day he'd had.

Her face lit into the prettiest smile I'd seen in ages. As it did, I homed in on the toned-down makeup job. She looked absolutely lovely today. I hadn't even noticed until now.

“Have you ever heard the song ‘Mambo Italiano'?” she asked.

“‘Mambo Italiano'?” He let out a noise that sounded a bit like a growl. “Like the pizza?” He pointed to Parma John's.

“The Mambo Italiano special is named after a real song by Dean Martin,” Laz said.

“Actually, Rosemary Clooney sang it first, I think.” Aunt Rosa dabbed her lips.

Mama sighed. “Point is, I heard it playing at the Rossis' house and fell in love with it. But I don't believe I'd ever paid attention to the words until then.”

Babbas grunted. “What about it?”

“It's about a fella who goes back to his hometown in Italy because he misses the scenery—the old dances and songs, that sort of thing.” Mama's expression grew more animated. “And that got me thinking.” She clasped her hands together, eyes dancing with delight. “Now, brace yourself, Niko. What I'm about to say may come as a bit of a shock.”

You might be Greek if your family has a wedding at least twice a year.

M
ama practically squealed as she made her announcement: “Pack your bags, Niko! We're going on the trip of a lifetime!”

“The trip of a lifetime?” He shook his head. “You mean to California? Have you changed your mind again, woman?”

“No. To Greece.” She gestured to Gabi and smiled. “This precious girl's mother works as a travel agent and has been helping me all week long, ever since you said we could take a vacation.”

“Well, yes, but I didn't mean . . .” Babbas put his head in his hands.

“Doesn't matter. We've already come up with a plan.”

“A plan?” Babbas wiped the sweat from his brow and gazed at her.

“Now, don't argue, Niko. I've been putting away a little money—”

“You've been putting away money?” My father rose. He did not look pleased by this news. “And where has this money come from?”

“My portion of the tip jar,” Mama said. “Why do you think I do my own nails? Cut my own hair? Never ask for a night out on the town?”

“Because we're too busy?”

“Because I'm careful with money—our family budget and my own money besides. Anyway, I've saved enough to pay for our flights to Athens.”

“A-Athens?”

“Yes. We're going to enjoy the rich culture and history of Greece, mainland and islands. We'll experience the exotic beauty and romance of Athens and then witness exquisite beaches and breathtaking panoramic views on the islands of Santorini and Mykonos.”

“What?” Babbas still looked perplexed. “Have you memorized the travel brochure or something?”

“Yes, I have.” Mama nodded. “But before long it will be more than a pipe dream. I'm done with talking about all the things we're going to do someday. We're doing them now.”

“N-now?” He looked around, as if expecting suitcases to materialize.

“Well, next month—the fifteenth, to be precise. And that reminds me, we're not going alone. Your brother and his wife are going too.”

“My brother?” Babbas crossed his arms, then relaxed them when he realized Athena was looking at him. “I see.”

Mama nodded. “This is going to be a family trip.”

My siblings had just started to celebrate that news when Mama put her hand up. “Older family members only.” She turned to my grandmother and extended a hand. “That includes you, Yia Yia. We're taking you back home to Santorini. You can show us all the places you lived as a little girl, and your favorite vacation spots too.”

Yia Yia began to wail about how she wanted us to lay her bones to rest in Greece.

“Well, I hope you're not asking us to do that on this trip.” Mama gave her a kiss on the forehead. “We need you to stay alive to show us around.” She turned to Babbas. “So what do you say? Are you ready to do what Cassia's always singing about—forget your troubles, c'mon get happy—and take your wife and mother on a trip to a place you've been claiming as your homeland?”

“I . . . I . . .” He raked his fingers through his hair. “When you put it like that, how can I not?” He looked at me. “But with Cassia so busy at the flower shop, who will take care of Super-Gyros?”

“I've got that covered too.” Mama pointed to our new friends. “Rosa had the perfect solution.”

My father looked panicked at the mention of Rosa's name. “What about her?”

“She and Laz have been in the restaurant business for years and know what it takes to keep a place going. They will check in on the kids every day and make sure things are going smoothly.”

“We . . . we will?” Laz glanced over at Rosa, who nodded.

“Over my dead bod—” Babbas clamped his lips shut. Well, actually, Mama planted a big kiss on his lips with everyone looking on. When he came up for air, his cheeks blazed a reddish bronze. I couldn't help but laugh, and all the more when he swept Mama into his arms, tilted her back for a Hollywood-esque smooch, then lifted her back up again. The crowd roared with delight.

When things settled down, I approached my father to put his mind at ease about the shop. “Don't worry, Babbas,” I said. “I'll be in and out of the store every day. I'm sure Marcella and I can work out some arrangement.” I glanced at my boss and she nodded and smiled.

“I'll help too,” Alex said. “I don't know the first thing about running a cash register, but I've watched you whip up the tzatziki sauce so many times I could do it in my sleep. And I'm pretty sure I could make a mean gyro too.”

He'd never make a mean hero. A terrific one, maybe, but never mean.

My parents settled back down into their seats, and Bella rose. “Since we're making announcements, I have one too.” She looked at D.J. and her eyes misted over. “We, um, well, we haven't really said anything about this publicly yet, but . . .”

“What is it, Bella?” Rosa asked.

“D.J. and I wanted to wait until we were far enough along to make any announcements.”

“Far enough along?” Rosa let out a squeal. So did Imelda Rossi.

“Wait . . .” I stared at Bella. “You're . . . you're having a baby?”

She nodded and a little tear rolled out of the corner of her
eye. “I am. I mean, we are. I'm eight weeks as of today, and things appear to be going great.”

“Oh, Bella!” Hannah squealed and grabbed her hand. “I'm going to take your pregnancy pictures!”

Scarlet ran to her side and gave her a hug. “I'm going to bake the baby shower cake.”

“I'm going to make the cutest baby dress,” Gabi chimed in. “Well, if it's a girl. If it's a boy, I'll make a little suit.”

What could I contribute to this but the obvious? “And I'm going to do the prettiest centerpiece at your shower. Ooh, maybe even a corsage for you. And, of course, a fabulous arrangement in pink or blue once the baby arrives.”

A baby! The idea got me tickled.

The Splendora ladies all ran toward Bella at once and wrapped her in their bosomy embraces. This led to a conversation about the baby's birth, and before long they were all talking about the Duchess's delivery. I had to laugh when Twila waved her hand and said, “I still can't believe she deliberately chose a C-section. She's too posh to push!”

This got a laugh from everyone. Babbas lifted his glass of sweet tea and gave a little toast in Greek, welcoming the new little one, to which Laz responded with a hearty “Opa!”

With all of the attention now firmly fixed on Bella, I found myself free to pay attention to the one person who'd been overlooked in so much of the recent chaos. I turned to Alex, my gorgeous Greek Southern gentleman, and whispered, “I love you.”

His face lit brighter than the midday sun as he leaned my way. “I love you too.” He gave my hand a squeeze and looked around the table at all of the others. “I don't know how I landed an invitation to this memorable soiree, to be honest.
I'm not exactly a Rossi, now am I? And I'm not a Pappas. I'm just happy to be included.” He kissed me on the cheek. “It's always fun to be part of the family.”

Indeed. As I looked around the table, as I listened in on the various conversations, I had to conclude that my family had just doubled in size . . . and I'd never been happier.

The fun continued until one thirty, when O'Reilly reminded us that the trolley would be back up and running soon. The women all stood and started clearing the tables, but Babbas and Laz remained behind, chatting like old friends with Brock and the
Stars Collide
producer, as well as the other members of the cast. I grabbed several dirty plates and stacked them in my arms, then headed into Super-Gyros.

Alex followed behind me, carrying a couple of empty gyro plates. When we reached the kitchen, he looked my way. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” He set the trays down on the counter. “Come with me for a little ride.”

“On our bikes?” I couldn't imagine it in this heat. And after such a busy day? “I don't know, Alex.”

“Not on our bikes.” He took the stack of dirty plates out of my hands and set them in the sink. “The trolley. It's been down for repairs, but they're opening at two o'clock. Remember?”

“But why?” None of this made sense. “You want to show it to Athena's friends?”

“Yes. I think they would like it, don't you?”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

“Okay, well, do me a favor. Go upstairs and get changed.”

“Huh?”

“Just go upstairs to your parents' room. Athena's there waiting on you.”

“No she's not. She's still outside.” I walked out into the restaurant and looked through the glass to the street. “Hmm.”

“Told you.” Alex took my hands. “Now, please don't ask any questions. Just go see her.”

“Okay.” I practically ran up the steps to our apartment and then bounded into my parents' bedroom. Athena stood in the middle of the room, a bright smile on her face.

“Well, hello there. Thought you'd never get here.”

“What in the world are we doing?”

Her eyes widened in false innocence. “
We
are doing nothing.
You
are changing into a lovely new dress that has been supplied for you just for this moment.” She opened the closet door. “You wouldn't believe what I had to go through to get this.” She giggled as she pulled an amazing Victorian gown out of the closet. “Thank God Rex and Lenora were willing to bring it with them.”

I gasped as I laid eyes on the gorgeous red gown with its sweetheart neckline and puffed short sleeves.

“Look familiar?” Athena's eyes twinkled.

I gave it a closer look. “It does seem like I've seen it before . . . but where?”

“What's your favorite movie of all time?”

“
Meet Me in
St. Louis
.” I'd no sooner spoken the words than it hit me. Judy Garland had worn this same gown—well, maybe not this exact same one, but close—in the party scene.

“Oh, Athena. How in the world . . . ?”

“Lenora has the most amazing collection of costumes from old Hollywood days. I asked Rex if he would do a bit of digging to come up with this particular gown, and he did.
Long story short, this dress—and yes, it's a copycat—was hanging on the costume rack at the studio. It's not a hundred percent like Judy's version, but it's close. Notice the pinched waistline.”

“Well, yes. But why . . . ?” I couldn't formulate words. They'd brought this dress all the way from California?

“Because Alex asked for it.”

“He did?”

“Yep. The same day your father gave you the news that you would be moving back to Santa Cruz. So . . .” She grinned. “You gonna stand there all day, or are you going to let us fix your hair so you can get into this knock-'em-dead dress?”

“You're going to fix my hair?”

“Actually, Bella's sister Sophia is helping me. She'll be up in a second. She's going to fix it just like Judy wore it when she danced across the floor in this dress. Sophia printed up a picture from the internet, so don't fret. It'll be perfect.”

Fret? Who could fret at a time like this? No, my heart felt like singing!

Sophia showed up with a bagful of hair doodads and got to work. I hummed the whole time she and Athena worked on my hair and makeup, then I eased my way into the magnificent gown with its tiny waist and deep red color.

Athena walked back to the closet and came out with a hatbox. She removed the most glorious Victorian hat I'd ever seen.

“Are . . . are you serious?”

She nodded and handed it to Sophia, who pinned it in place over my Gibson girl hairdo.

I stood in front of Mama's full-length mirror and stared at my reflection in awe. With the dress, the hair, the hat, I looked so much like Judy I could hardly believe it.

A knock sounded at the door, and seconds later, after I gave the okay, my father peeked inside.

“Cassia? Alex is wondering if you're ever going to—” Babbas stopped midsentence as he clapped eyes on me. “Oh my.” The next few words came out in Greek. I didn't really understand them—well, not all of them—but managed to get the gist of it. He thought I looked lovely.

I threw my arms around my father's neck and gave him a huge hug. “Thank you, Babbas. Now, if you don't mind, I have a trolley ride to take.”

“Yes, I believe someone is waiting for you downstairs. A very dapper fellow in an interesting-looking suit. He's been asking for you.”

I slipped on the heels Athena passed to me, then gave myself one last glimpse in the mirror. My heart was beating so fast I could barely catch my breath. Oh, but who needed to breathe?

I bounded out of my parents' room and to the top of the stairs, then slowed my pace to make a graceful entrance.

The shop below was filled with friends and loved ones—Greek, Italian, Californian, and Splendoran. A collective gasp went up as I eased my way from the bottom step into the shop. Twila rushed to me, followed by all of the other ladies, who gushed over my getup. I smiled and did my best to make conversation, but wanted to see—needed to see—Alex.

He was dressed in a formal turn-of-the-century suit that took my breath away. “Oh, wow.” We made our way through the crowd, finally reaching each other. His eyes danced with delight as he took in my appearance.

“Just as I imagined you would look.” He extended his hand. “Would you take a little ride with me, Miss Pappas?”

“I-I would love to.” He slipped my arm through his and led
the way out of the shop to the sidewalk. The street had been cleared of all tables. The cones were gone. And the trolley was parked at the corner.

“Oh, Alex!” I almost lost my breath at the sight of the trolley car covered in multiple garlands of roses. Yellows, pinks, whites, and hundreds of reds. “How in the world did you . . . ?”