The Real Allie Newman. Janice Carter

set?” he asked.

      She nodded.

      “You’ll be fine. And remember, you’re here to give them something. Not to justify whatever happened twenty-seven years ago.”

      She was grateful to him for that and, taking a deep breath, opened the car door. When she stepped out onto the paved drive, the group of people parted as if by silent command, giving way for a tall, thin, gray-haired man grasping a cane and walking slowly through them. Allie was thinking that particular moment was more frightening than diving into the Cataraqui after Harry Maguire. Still, pasting a smile on her face, she plunged forward.

      The elderly man descended slowly to the first layer of steps. “Koritsiemou, Allie. My darling granddaughter.”

      Up close, she could see the ravages of his illness. His skin was waxen and taut against prominent facial bones, but his eyes were bright and alert, as yet undiminished by illness. His raspy greeting activated the others and they clustered around Allie. There was a hubbub of talk and some nervous laughter, mainly from Allie, she realized afterward.

      Spiro introduced the others. First, Allie was presented to a slight woman in her fifties with a blend of black and silver hair, who was wearing a simple but expensive-looking black dress.

      “Ephtimea—Effie—is the wife of my late nephew, Anthony, and the mother of my two great-nephews, George and Christo.”

      The woman stepped forward and shyly kissed Allie on both cheeks. “Welcome, my dear.”

      “That’s George—” Spiro gestured to the man at Effie’s left, “—my nephew, Effie’s eldest son.”

      A large-framed man with the darkest eyes Allie had ever seen nodded, but didn’t smile.

      “And his fiancée, Lynn,” Spiro continued.

      The curvaceous blonde that Allie had caught a glimpse of as she’d walked up the steps strode into the center of the group and held out her hand. “Nice to meetcha,” she said before backing up and taking a long draw on the cigarette she held in her other hand.

      Allie saw Spiro frown, his upper lip curling in a grimace that everybody noticed except for Lynn, who was brushing something off the tight bosom of her lime-green sheath dress. Allie sneaked a peek at Spiro again. His downturned mouth tightened.

      He turned to Allie and seemed to force a smile as he said, “Christo, Effie’s youngest,” and the shorter, handsomer man standing off to one side leaped forward. His grin implied that he, too, had enjoyed the little scene. He grasped Allie firmly by both shoulders, planting a solid kiss first on one cheek, then on the other.

      She wondered for a moment if he was going to release her, but eventually he stood back and said, “Wonderful to meet you at last, cuz. We’ve been breathless with excitement, haven’t we, George?” He cocked his head to George who’d been staring intently at Lynn. Christo burst into laughter. “George! You poor lovesick puppy.”

      George smiled weakly at Allie, though he managed to give his brother a playful punch in the shoulder.

      Spiro shook his head. “Boys, boys.” He made a mock clucking sound but obviously enjoyed their antics. “Allie needs more time before she has to face the family in its true light,” he said.

      Christo laughed again. “Sure, Uncle Spiro, but I’m still waiting for that day myself.”

      Spiro wasn’t amused this time. Allie noted the subtle way his chin pulled downward and his gray eyes flashed. Still, he made no response and turned, instead, to introduce the other three people waiting dutifully in the background.

      “Yolanda, my nurse,” Spiro said, gesturing to a stout woman in a lavender uniform. She beamed warmly at Allie, and Allie responded in kind. Then he gestured for a thin, gray-haired woman in black to move forward.

      “This is Maria, who has managed my home for many years. The household can’t function without her, and whatever you need or want while you are here, speak to Maria.”

      The older woman nodded solemnly, fixing her small, birdlike eyes on Allie, and extended a hand. No kiss on both cheeks here. She might have known my mother, Allie thought, unnerved by the woman’s stare.

      Spiro gestured last to a burly man in a navy-blue uniform standing on a lower step between the terrace and the drive. “Marko, my driver.” The man merely tipped his head at Allie, not bothering to make eye contact.

      “Shall we go inside?” Spiro asked, his voice sounding weary. “We’ll have drinks on the back terrace in half an hour. Maria will show you to your room, Allie.” He ushered Allie toward the door, his palm resting lightly at the small of her back. In the doorway, she suddenly wheeled around to see if Joel was coming, too.

      He was still leaning against the side of the Cadillac, arms folded across his chest. She hadn’t anticipated his parting, though realized his job for Spiro Kostakis was likely completed. Still, she couldn’t simply wave goodbye without talking to him one last time, could she? She hesitated, aware that the others were waiting for her to enter.

      Joel’s voice rang out. “Mr. Kostakis, may I have a word with you before I leave?”

      Spiro frowned. “Come to my study,” he finally said, and with Yolanda’s assistance, shuffled through the open door. The others filed inside, taking Allie with them. She cast another look at Joel before she was herded into the cool, dark interior of the Kostakis mansion.

      LIKE BAIT TO SHARKS, Joel thought, watching Allie being swarmed by the Kostakis clan and urged inside. When she’d turned around from the threshold to look at him, something in her face caught at him, and that was when he knew his part in this family drama mustn’t end. Impulsively he’d called out to Spiro. When he saw the relief wash across her face, he knew his instincts were right.

      As everyone moved into the house, his brain went into overdrive, searching for some convincing reason to stay. Then he, too, headed up the granite staircase, ignoring a smirking Marko, and went inside. The foyer gleamed with polished hardwood, mahogany and oak trim and sparkling crystal. Joel had seen layouts of the house once in a trendy home-design magazine; the real thing was even more spectacular.

      He’d been interviewed for the job by George at the Kostakis skyscraper in downtown Detroit, but had seen maps of the family compound. Hence his brief tour-guide recitation to Allie on the way in. Huge vases containing ornate flower arrangements were artfully placed throughout the foyer. A winding staircase swept up from the center of the hall, and Joel had a glimpse of a black skirt disappearing off the landing above. Maria, he wondered, or Effie?