Page 12 of Footprints in the Sand (Coleman #13)
Chapter Twelve
T he fallout after the Gretchen Collingsworth brand went under was swift.
Very suddenly, Eva couldn’t log into any of her company accounts, the website went under, and even the Instagram and TikTok were deleted.
Payday, which usually came every two weeks, was ignored completely.
When Eva reached out to other colleagues, including her marketing boss, Melanie, she was either outright ignored or told to “keep quiet about everything if a journalist or lawyer contacts you.” Eva spent the days in a delirium, wandering up and down the beach, wondering what to do with herself.
Because she spent so much time outside in a tank top and a pair of shorts, she was tanned and muscular-looking and so different than her meek, slim, pale self of the wintertime.
She’d even begun swimming endlessly around the Aegean, so far out that she sometimes felt nervous about ever making it back to shore.
She wondered if Finn would even recognize her like this, and then she cursed herself for ever thinking of Finn.
Hadn’t she come all this way to get away from thoughts of him?
Aphrodite kept tabs on Eva. It was Greek hospitality turned up to eleven.
She brought her snacks and drinks, sat with her on the rooftop and listened to Eva’s every worry about the company.
Five nights after news of Gretchen’s arrest had broken, Aphrodite took a long drink of wine and said, “I’m sorry for saying this.
But were you actually happy doing marketing for somebody else’s company? ”
Eva bristled. “Um. Yes?” But even as she said it, she felt the cracks in her logic.
“I just mean, don’t you want to do something for yourself? Something artistic? You’re still so young, you know. You have time to make something beautiful.”
“I don’t know what that would be,” Eva said. She’d been hyper-focused on making money throughout her entire career. She’d gone to college so she could have a comfortable life. Finn took that comfort away from me.
Aphrodite began talking about a friend of hers who was French and had come to Paros to learn how to carve marble, just as the Ancient Greeks did.
“He’s terrible at marketing, but he has a huge passion for what he’s doing,” Aphrodite said.
“He teaches workshops. Maybe you should go meet him. Maybe you will fall in love with carving marble.”
Eva snorted. “I don’t see that ever happening.” But then she wet her lips and added, “Maybe he needs help with his marketing strategy?”
Aphrodite shrugged and laughed. “You can’t get away from that, can you?”
“It’s all I really know,” Eva admitted.
“Open your heart, Eva! You’re in Greece! We aren’t obsessed with money or time, like you Americans. We’re obsessed with fun and honesty!”
“And food,” Eva reminded Aphrodite with a laugh.
Aphrodite snorted. “You’ve got us figured out.”
The following afternoon, Aphrodite drove Eva the fifteen minutes from Aliki to Jean-Paul’s marble workshop along the coast. From the small dirt lot outside the house, Eva could see a remarkable collection of marble sculptures—traditional sculptures from the Cycladic Islands, as well as bowls, plates, and not-so-traditional jewelry, all carved from glowing white marble.
It was marble, she’d later learn, that had been collected both from Paros and from the neighboring island of Naxos.
It felt remarkable that the world could create such beauty, and even more impressive that humans could make such magic out of it.
Jean-Paul sat at a table outside, sanding what looked to be a salad bowl. There were three dogs and three cats roaming around, sniffing one another before collapsing in the shade.
Eva couldn’t help but think Jean-Paul was really cute.
Through the years, the Greek sun had worn on his face, but he was wiry and strong-looking with long legs and a cool demeanor.
His hair was ruffled and swept back. He was maybe in his mid-thirties and three times more handsome than Finn was on his best day.
Don’t compare him to Finn , Eva scolded herself.
Sometimes she wondered if her anger at Finn would follow her around for the rest of her life. She wondered if she’d ever escape it.
Aphrodite got out of the car and waved for Eva to follow.
Eva did, trying her best to put on her bravest face.
Jean-Paul put his marble bowl to the side, almost regretfully, and performed the French double-cheek kiss thing on Aphrodite, who blushed.
When he saw Eva, his eyes flickered with what seemed to be curiosity.
“This is my friend, Eva,” Aphrodite said. “She’s interested in what you’re doing out here.”
“Are you interested in carving the marble?” Jean-Paul asked.
Eva wanted to laugh but couldn’t. “I don’t know if I could ever do that.”
Jean-Paul waved his hand. “Everyone can do it.”
“I told her you give classes,” Aphrodite said, roaming through the open door to check out what he’d recently made.
Jean-Paul focused squarely on Eva, as though waiting for her to tell him what she wanted. When Eva couldn’t come up with anything, Aphrodite called from inside, “She knows all about social media, and she needs a job pretty bad. Jean-Paul, can you give the girl a hand?”
Jean-Paul’s face broke into a funny smile. “I hate social media.”
“Everyone does,” Eva said.
“But you don’t?” Jean-Paul asked.
“I think it’s a great way to get the word out about what you’re doing here,” Eva said gently, entering the workshop to see more of what he’d made.
She paused at a gorgeous goblet and wondered what it would be like to drink wine out of it.
“You really think you can teach me how to do something like this?”
“You never know until you try,” Jean-Paul said.
For the rest of the afternoon, Eva found herself up to her ears in marble carving.
Using a violent-looking machine with a sharp blade attached, she carved and sanded a large block of marble until she created a crooked bowl.
Throughout, Jean-Paul monitored what she was doing, explaining how the marble would react to various techniques.
He also told her the history of the island and what had drawn him here so many years ago.
Throughout, Eva took photographs of the process, imagining that she’d document everything on social media for him. Aphrodite stayed for a little while but eventually ran off to meet other friends. Jean-Paul offered to bring Eva back to Aliki when she wanted to go.
A part of Eva fantasized she would never leave the marble workshop, that she’d live the rest of her days here with Jean-Paul and all the cats and dogs.
Of course, the marble sculpture she made was subpar and not worthy of any website. She laughed at it, saying, “I’m sorry. You must be so disappointed in me.” And then she said, “Aphrodite was sure that I should find my ‘artistic passion’ here in Greece.”
Jean-Paul looked at her quizzically. “First of all, this is a very good first attempt. Marble is not easy to work with, so you should be proud. Second of all, you must find your artistic passion. Everyone has one.”
“Maybe I don’t,” Eva said, suddenly feeling embarrassed.
The sun had begun to set, casting the field and coastline in a beautiful orange light.
“Everyone does,” Jean-Paul asserted, his eyebrows raised. “Stay for a glass of wine?”
Eva felt she couldn’t go anywhere. She didn’t want to go back to Dimitra’s place, where she could feel the love Dimitra had lost when Kostos passed away.
Here at the table outside Jean-Paul’s marble shop, nothing felt grim. Everything felt open to possibility. She felt like somebody else.
She wondered if it was partially because she’d allowed herself to try something new. The marble bowl was not good in the slightest. But it had opened her heart to something else.
Jean-Paul poured two glasses of white wine and raised his. “To trying new things.”
“To social media,” Eva said, then laughed at how ridiculous it sounded.
Jean-Paul wrinkled his nose but thought for a moment. “I can pay you. For the social media, I mean. If that is what you really want to do here in Greece. I need help.”
Eva’s heart opened. “Really?”
Jean-Paul raised his shoulders. “Why not? I cannot pay you a lot.”
They agreed on ten hours a week at a rate that would have made her mother cry. But it was enough for groceries and Eva’s other expenses. Greece was far cheaper than Massachusetts anyway.
Plus, it would allow her to spend more time with Jean-Paul.
Had Aphrodite known they would hit it off like this? What about her brother, Nico? Didn’t she know something was brewing between Nico and Eva as well?
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Eva. You aren’t juggling two European men. You’re meeting new people. It has to be enough .
Eva had never been one to date around. Perhaps that was why she’d made her relationship work with Finn for so long. Had she been frightened of what was out there? Or just complacent?
“Tell me,” Jean-Paul said, pouring a little more wine into both of their glasses, “how did you come to be on Paros? What is your origin story?”
Eva knew to keep it simple. She didn’t want to get into the complications of what Finn had done, nor how heartbroken she now was. If Jean-Paul wanted to flirt with her a little bit here and there, she didn’t want to give him any reason to doubt it.
So she said, “I needed a change of pace. I needed a way to see myself in a different light. My cousin had met a Greek woman who needed a similar mix-up, I guess, and she suggested that we swap houses for the summer.”
Jean-Paul cackled and slapped his knee. “How wonderful. It’s like a film.” His eyes were lit up.
“But when I got here, I found out that I lost my job,” Eva said, trying to make light of it. “The owner of the company did a bunch of money crimes, I guess. I’m sort of at a loss.”
Jean-Paul shook his head sadly. “Corporate greed is going to destroy us all,” he said. “I am sorry to hear that.”
Eva smiled sadly. “Aphrodite’s so convinced I’ll fill my life with art, but I really need a paycheck.” Especially after what Finn did.
“Aphrodite has only ever really lived on this island,” Jean-Paul said. “She does not know about the real world. Not that I do, either. You know the sad state of my social media. You know how difficult it is for me to sell my sculptures.”
“We can fix that,” Eva said. “The sculptures speak for themselves. People just need to see them. They need to know they’re there.”
Eva took a few minutes to set up social media profiles for Jean-Paul and his workshop.
It was simple for her, like pressing “play” on skills she’d honed for years.
In half an hour, she had a few advertisements running, hoping to bring tourists from neighboring villages to the workshop to learn from Jean-Paul.
Jean-Paul was amazed, watching over her shoulder.
Eva promised to keep it up, and Jean-Paul touched her shoulder in thanks. It was both intimate and alarming. Eva darkened her phone and took a sip of wine.
The sun was falling lower in the sky.
Suddenly, Jean-Paul asked, “Who is the Greek woman you swapped with? On Paros, I know just about everyone.”
“Dimitra,” she said. “From Aliki?”
Immediately, Jean-Paul’s face transformed. “You’re living in Dimitra’s house?” He sat up straighter.
“Yes?” Eva noticed a swift change in mood. “Why?”
Jean-Paul rubbed his cheek nervously. “Dimitra is living in your house? In America?”
“Yes.” Eva couldn’t fathom what his expression meant, but it was frightening her.
“It’s just funny,” Jean-Paul said. “We were just talking about corporate greed, about how greed is going to ruin us all. And now suddenly we’re talking about Dimitra, who was married to one of the greediest men I’ve ever known.”
Eva’s eyes widened. “You mean Kostos?”
Jean-Paul looked uncomfortable, like he didn’t want to talk about this. Eva crossed her arms.
“I don’t know if Dimitra ever knew the real him,” Jean-Paul went on darkly.
“How is that possible?” Eva asked. “Weren’t they married for like twenty years?” She’d heard this from Rachelle but didn’t know it for sure.
“Just because you’re married, doesn’t mean you ever really know each other,” Jean-Paul said.
Eva’s mouth was dry. She couldn’t fathom what Jean-Paul meant.
But before she could beg him for more details, Aphrodite’s little beat-up car appeared, and she was honking the horn excitedly, smiling from behind the steering wheel. When she parked, she called out, “Eva! Jean-Paul! Party on the beach! Let’s go!”
But Jean-Paul didn’t want to go to any party. “I’m a little bit of a loner,” Jean-Paul said as Eva gathered her things and thanked him for the workshop.
Aphrodite tried twice more to get him to come, but Jean-Paul wouldn’t leave his workshop, nor his cats and dogs. As Eva and Aphrodite sped away, dust burst out from behind the wheels. Aphrodite threw her head back in laughter.
“He’s a trip, isn’t he?” Aphrodite asked.
“He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” Eva agreed, rubbing her chest. And then she asked, “Aphrodite, what was Dimitra’s husband, Kostos, like?”
Aphrodite’s face relaxed slightly. “Kostos was the best. Everyone loved him. He was the funniest person in every room, always there to help you when you needed him. He was a brilliant cook and a wonderful dancer. He was the best thing to ever happen to Dimitra. When he passed away…” She trailed off.
“He took so much of Dimitra’s heart with him. It was a tragedy.”
Eva was quiet, studying the Aegean out the window. As Aphrodite waxed poetic about Kostos, she couldn’t help but think something about her description was overdone.
Why did she think that Aphrodite was lying and that Jean-Paul was telling the truth?