08-31-2022, 06:22 PM
“Stop for a moment, Anaisa,” Emilios called.
Athanasia turned around. “What is it this time?”
“I need to take off my shoes.”
She laughed. “I told you not to wear any.” It was difficult to walk on the sand with shoes on. She had told her stubborn brother that before they had left the house, as well as to wear lighter clothes. But no, he’d had to dress in a suit as if he was going to his London office instead of to the beach.
She was dressed appropriately in a simple pink gown and a bonnet sitting atop her long dark brown curls. Two liveried servants followed them, carrying the things they would need for their picnic. Athanasia was surprised that Emilios had agreed to accompany her at all, but perhaps her threat to go alone had swayed him.
If she had her way, he would even have fun. He needed to start living again. The time for mourning was over but she thought he was content to brood forever. At least he had seemed to enjoy himself at that masquerade ball she had pressured him into going to. The stories he told her about it had been hilarious. And he had not complained about the ball either, though he spent most of the time looking at the paintings and not dancing with attractive women.
Athanasia chuckled again as she watched him stand on one foot and then another to remove his shoes. He handed them to one of the servants. “Much better,” he announced, catching up to her.
“Good.” She smiled at him sweetly. At least he wasn’t complaining like he usually did when she convinced him to leave the mansion. Perhaps, like her, he was remembering the vacations in Greece during their childhood when the entire family had gone on picnics together. None of them had had a care in the world and they had run through the sand, collected shells, and swum in the sea.
As they walked side by side, talking quietly, Athanasia heard a lovely voice carried by the breeze. “Somebody’s singing,” she remarked.
Athanasia turned around. “What is it this time?”
“I need to take off my shoes.”
She laughed. “I told you not to wear any.” It was difficult to walk on the sand with shoes on. She had told her stubborn brother that before they had left the house, as well as to wear lighter clothes. But no, he’d had to dress in a suit as if he was going to his London office instead of to the beach.
She was dressed appropriately in a simple pink gown and a bonnet sitting atop her long dark brown curls. Two liveried servants followed them, carrying the things they would need for their picnic. Athanasia was surprised that Emilios had agreed to accompany her at all, but perhaps her threat to go alone had swayed him.
If she had her way, he would even have fun. He needed to start living again. The time for mourning was over but she thought he was content to brood forever. At least he had seemed to enjoy himself at that masquerade ball she had pressured him into going to. The stories he told her about it had been hilarious. And he had not complained about the ball either, though he spent most of the time looking at the paintings and not dancing with attractive women.
Athanasia chuckled again as she watched him stand on one foot and then another to remove his shoes. He handed them to one of the servants. “Much better,” he announced, catching up to her.
“Good.” She smiled at him sweetly. At least he wasn’t complaining like he usually did when she convinced him to leave the mansion. Perhaps, like her, he was remembering the vacations in Greece during their childhood when the entire family had gone on picnics together. None of them had had a care in the world and they had run through the sand, collected shells, and swum in the sea.
As they walked side by side, talking quietly, Athanasia heard a lovely voice carried by the breeze. “Somebody’s singing,” she remarked.
