CHAPTER SIX
FORALLHEKNEW,the two weeksbuilding up to her leaving were passing slowly and for Roula. But for Galen life was on fast forward, and there was a lot to get through.
A lot!
Galen took the elevator up to his suite of offices, but frowned when he saw Kristina there, immersed in work. ‘Shouldn’t you be at the airport to meet Roula?’
Kristina barely looked up as she responded to his query. ‘I’ve organised a driver.’
‘Good,’ Galen said, glad that it was all taken care of. Except... ‘Cancel him and call my driver. I’ll greet her myself.’
He was in his office when Kristina came in, and she looked startled when she saw him swigging from a bottle.
‘Antacid,’ Galen said, licking his chalky lips.
‘Again? Do you want me to schedule an appointment...?’ Kristina stopped when he shot her a look, and got to the reason why she had followed him in. ‘Galen? If you want me to collect the new temp personally just say. I’m pregnant, not ill.’
‘I know.’ He nodded. ‘But I’ve told the team I’m taking today off. I’ll be too busy on Monday to take Roula over to the care home...’
‘I can take her over this afternoon.’
‘It’s no problem.’
‘You’re sure?’ Kristina checked. ‘Please don’t go soft on me now, Galen.’
‘I’m not.’
Galen wasn’t altering his stance for Kristina, and nor would she want him to. She had insisted on working right up to the end, and no doubt had gone for her usual dawn run on the hilly Athens streets...
It wouldn’t enter Kristina’s head that this was...
What?
Something in Anapliró’s unwritten code that you would be met at the airport? A certain rule that you greeted an old friend personally when she arrived?
Galen had long stopped following the lines in that rule book.
‘Do want me to schedule Hector for next week?’ Kristina asked.
‘No. Tell him the wedding has derailed things...’ Galen paused. ‘Actually, maybe suggest dinner tonight.’
‘But he’s in Rome for the convention.’
‘I know he is.’ Galen smiled. ‘At least he can’t say I didn’t try!’
Arrivals was busy. So busy that as his eyes skimmed the latest batch of passengers dragging their luggage Galen failed to spot Roula.
‘Galen!’
He almost looked through her. In the space of two weeks, in his mind he had turned Roula into the goddess Aphrodite, with lush curves and tumbling red curls. So Galen blinked as a woman in a maroon and royal blue zig-zag skirt and a white top dotted with little circles walked towards him. Her hair was tightly scraped into a high knot and the fringe pinned tightly, as if in an attempt to squeeze every drop of colour out of it.
Galen realised then the reasoning behind Costa’s warning about her clothes. For out of her smart official uniform Roula dressed... Well, even the residents in Yaya’s nursing home were more up to date!
‘Galen,’ she said again, and gave a little wave.
Her shoes were brown, sturdy and laced, and as for her mismatched bright fabric luggage and the orange cool bag she carried... It was a drama on his eyes.
‘Roula!’ He righted himself. ‘Welcome.’