Free Hello, Hollywood! by Janice Thompson Page A

face, which caused the longest—and loudest—yapping spree I’d ever witnessed outside of watching The Dog Whisperer . Seriously? What kind of dog could keep on barking that long and not eventually end up with vocal strain?
    At this point, Milo handed Mama a note. She opened it, her hands trembling so hard I knew she wouldn’t be able to read it. “Athena?” She looked my way. “Would you?”
    “Is it written in Greek?” I asked. “I can speak the language, but you know I can’t read it. Not well, anyway.” If I attempted to translate that letter, no telling what I’d come up with.
    “I can,” Stephen said. “If it’s not too personal, I’ll be happy to translate it for you. My Greek is still pretty good.”
    Of course it is.
    “I’m sorry, but who did you say you are again?” Mama asked.
    He extended his hand. “Stephen Cosse. I work with Athena. I’m a writer.”
    My mother took his hand, gripping it firmly. “And you read Greek?”
    He nodded, and I passed the note his way, knowing Mama wasn’t in any shape to be reading it. If it turned out to be private information, she could forgive me later.
    Stephen’s voice remained steady as he read the words in the letter. “Thera, if you’re reading this note, I have gone to be with Jesus.”
    My brother grunted and muttered something under his breath.
    Stephen continued. “May the gift I give you today bring you as much joy as you brought me as a child.”
    “Aw, how sweet.” Mama managed a half smile. “Well, maybe she—” A pause followed and her smile faded. “Wait a minute. I never brought her joy as a child, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. She always acted like she hated me. So what do you think she’s trying to say about the dog? Is she sending some sort of subliminal message, perhaps?”
    Zeus jumped up and growled at my mother, baring his teeth. Ack.
    Stephen snapped his fingers and the dog settled down. He gestured to the letter. “There’s more. Want me to read it?”
    “I guess.” Mama sighed. “Good old Athena. Always has to get the last word.”
    I turned to Stephen to explain. “Just so we’re clear about this, my mother is talking about my dead aunt, Athena. Not me.”
    “Ah.” The edges of his lips curled up for a moment. “Thanks for clarifying. I wondered. I’ll file that away for future reference.”
    Hmm. There were a few things I wanted to file away as well. My wandering thoughts, for instance. How could I focus on poor Aunt Athena and her mangy mutt with such a handsome man standing next to me?
    Who was this guy, anyway? He’d come all the way from Vegas to our gyro shop to translate a letter from my dead aunt? Seriously? Had all of this been orchestrated as part of some great cosmic plan, or could the timing of his visit today be deemed a coincidence?
    Stephen read the rest of the note—basically instructions on how to feed and care for the dog—then handed it back to my mother. She folded it and put it in her apron pocket, shaking her head all the while.
    “Well, now. I will pray about this, and we will decide what to do with the dog.” Mama turned her focus to our guests, clasping her hands at her chest. “In the meantime, are you hungry? Come. I’ll fix you the best gyro you’ve ever eaten.”
    Talk about switching gears. Clearly she did not care to address this any further. But all of the questions I had about Mean-Athena rushed through my head. She had left a lasting impression on my mother, and obviously not a good one. Was this gift an attempt to make things right, or some sort of subliminal message?
    Mama reiterated her offer to feed our guests.
    “I’m happy to take you up on that,” Milo said. “Smells like home in here.”
    “It is.” Babbas smiled. “Home to us, and now home to you. Any friend from Greece is a true friend indeed.”
    I should embroider that on a sampler and hang it on the wall.
    “I ate a Super-Gyro last Saturday,” Stephen said. “Which is why I talked Rex