Free She Wakes by Jack Ketchum Page A

he’d stolen a rabbit, skinned and dressed, from his father and tried to exchange it at the local grocery for a liter of wine which he then intended to peddle elsewhere at a cut-rate price. In Greece a nickname tended to stick with you. So Tasos was forever doomed to have the word for rabbit prefixed to his name. Even at age forty-eight, a successful businessman, the memory of that first aborted deal walked with him.
        Beside him men in overalls were painting chairs bright green, gearing up for the influx of tourists over Easter and then high season to follow.
        A hook-nosed old man in a light brown three-piece suit moved among the tables, his orange worry beads held loosely behind his back. His suit was cheap but impeccably pressed and tailored to his withered frame.
        He stopped behind Chase’s chair. He could feel the man staring. He turned around.
        “Yassas,” he said.
        The man didn't answer. His watery eyes seemed just short of hostile. Chase felt he’d been judged and found wanting. All of us, he thought.
        As the man walked by he imagined what it would be like to see the harbor through eighty-year-old Greek eyes. Boys zooming by on their Hondas. The tourists sweaty and half-naked off Kokonares or Banana Beach. Middle-aged sons sitting lazy in the shade, sipping Nescafe frappes instead of hot Greek coffee, rattling their newspapers and staring at the halter-topped women.
         It’s disappearing so quickly here, he thought.
        Even down to the man himself. Ancient worry beads and a three-piece suit. The country was experiencing a massive identity crisis on every level. The old looked at the new with fascination and horror, with both jealousy and dismay.
        “Yasu, Chase! Tikanes? Kala?”
        Tasos stood over him, reached down and pumped his hand.
        “Hell, Tasos, I always get by.”
         He hasn’t changed, thought Chase. The same round weathered face, the same hard handshake, the gold-toothed smile. He was suddenly very glad to see him.
        He thought that three years was a long time for friends to remain apart. He and Tasos went all the way back to college together. There had been a deal for a tract of land just outside Athens almost as soon as they were out of school and then other deals that moved them into shipping-but mostly they worked together by phone now. Chase realized he’d missed him.
        He sat grinning and Chase looked him over. He looked good-slim and fit. The clothes, he knew, were from Paris. Most of the Greeks who could afford them seemed to prefer Paris shops to London.
        “It’s good to see you, my friend.”
        “It’s good to see you too, Tasos. How’s Annalouka?"
        “Fine. fine. She sends her love. And Elaine?”
        “Fine. At least I think she is. I haven’t called her yet.”
        Tasos frowned. “Why not? You’re not having trouble, Chase.”
        “No. No trouble. Things are just a little bit complicated at the moment, that’s all. I’ll call. How’s the baby?”
        “A baby no longer, Chase. A four-year-old meltemi! With shoulders like this!”
        “Like his dad.”
        “Like his dad, yes.”
        “So fatherhood agrees with you?”
        Tasos smiled. “I was born a father. You should try it sometime.”
        “Yes. Sometime.”
        Tasos leaned forward. “You look a little tired, I think.”
        “No. I’m fine.”
        “You’ll stay awhile in Greece? Take a vacation maybe, stay with us?”
        “We’ll see. Have you been in touch with Yannis?”
        “Yes. He says there is no problem. The growers are eager to supply us and they expect the wine to be superb this season.”
        “My people have orders in excess of 5.5 million now. Up.6 million in just ten days. We project another 2.5 million as the cutoff, for this year anyway.”
        “Excellent! We will put Santorini