Finding Opa! (19 page)

“We can still leave,” Hunter reminded her with a smile.

“No, I want to do this,” Stacey said, opening her door.

Hunter looked down at the large three-carat solitaire on her ring finger that she had picked from Tiffany’s the day before and felt pride warm his heart. It looked like it had been made for her finger. He couldn’t wait to see his family’s faces when they saw his fiancée’s engagement ring. It would shut them up for good.

Grabbing the gifts, they walked up the street to the house, where a few people were standing outside on the porch. The men chattered loudly, laughing and joking until they saw the odd couple approaching; then suddenly they all were silent. Their eyes said what their mouths would not.
Hunter had brought a black woman home.

Stacey held her head up high despite their frowns. Dressed in an elegant pink silk wrap dress with her hair down and diamonds in her ears, she held on tightly to Hunter as he escorted her up the stairs, past his family.

“Hey Hunter, are you going to introduce us or what?” A man asked, who was about his age in a pair of jeans and white linen shirt, opened at the top to show his gold chain.

Hunter smiled and turned around. “This is Stacey Bryant everyone,” he said, opening the door. “These are my cousins, Alexio, Christos, Castor and the young guy over there in the corner is Markos.”

“Nice to meet you,” Alexio, the oldest and most attractive of the cousins said, offering his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Stacey said, shaking his hand gracefully.

“Why are you here with this loser?” Markos asked Stacey playfully.

Everyone laughed. Hunter pulled Stacey inside the doorway and stuck his head back out. “She’s my fiancée, you idiot. She’ll be around a lot, so be nice.”

The men’s faces went blank. As they pushed up to the door to get a second look, Hunter closed it tight behind him.

“I thought you had a small family?” Stacey said, quietly observing the droves of people moving around the house.

“My mom and dad have four kids, like I told you. But I have a host of uncles and aunts, and they’re all here.” Kissing her forehead, he took her hand and led her into the house.

It was a beautiful home with Greek décor throughout, though Stacey expected nothing less. An open-concept floor plan and wall-to floor-windows gave it a modern and eclectic flare, but the old world designs and use of blue and white made it feel like they had walked back into Greece.

The first person to greet them as they entered the house was Mrs. Fourakis. As she quickly passed by the hall, headed to the kitchen, she turned on her heels and came back. In a flowery apron over her St. John lavender-colored suit, she walked down the tiled hallway to them.

“Hunter?!” she said with her eyes on Stacey. Her voice boomed through the narrow corridor. “I’m so glad that you made it. I was starting to get worried.”

“How could I miss today, huh?” he asked with his arms opened wide to receive her. Hugging her as she came to him, he kissed her forehead as well. “Ma, I’d like to introduce you to Stacey Lane Bryant,” Hunter said proudly.

Mrs. Fourakis eyes were bright with curiosity. Looking Stacey up and down, she finally offered her hand. “
Ti kanis?
Very nice to meet you, Ms. Bryant.”

Mrs. Fourakis was a plump woman with a dark olive complexion, big brunette curls with streaks of silver, deep-set brown eyes and fuchsia pink lips. Her rosy cheeks were sprinkled with blush and eyes decorated with lavender shadow. Dripped in diamonds and gold, she smelled of expensive cologne and hair spray. On her feet, she wore a comfortable pair of flats that did nothing to hide her swollen ankles.

“Please, call me Stacey,” Stacey said, shaking her hand and looking her up and down as well. Her smile was cordial, but she was already on guard. “And I’m doing fine. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“I hope that it was good,” Mrs. Fourakis said jokingly, looking at her son. “You two come in and make yourselves at home. Hunter you’re standing around like a guest in your own home. Come. Come.” She led them through the house to the dining room table that had been leafed just for the occasion. Several people were already sitting while Rhea and Hanna set the table.

Everyone looked up as Hunter and Stacey walked through the arched doorway. With her hands clasped together and a painted-on smile, Mrs. Fourakis turned to the couple and introduced them. “Everyone this is
Stacey Bryant
,” she said, motioning back to Stacey, who stood with her left arm locked to Hunter.

No one knew exactly what to say. They all sat in surprise, glancing back and forth between Hunter and his date. Hunter raised his brow and escorted Stacey to her seat. As she sat down, Mrs. Fourakis’ gift bag fell out of her hand and revealed the diamond engagement ring on her finger.

Rhea glanced over and gasped. Looking at her mother, she nodded her head Stacey’s way. Mrs. Fourakis walked back over and looked down at Stacey’s hand. Putting her hand to her chest, she looked over at Hunter.

“Is that what I think it is?” Mrs. Fourakis asked.

Hunter cleared his throat and sat down beside Stacey. “I was going to tell everyone at once. But yes, Stacey is my fiancée.”

“You’re getting married?” Mrs. Fourakis looked over at Hanna, who took off her mittens after she sat down the hot potatoes. “Did you know about this?”

“No,” Hanna said with a grin. She nodded at Stacey. “But I think it’s wonderful. Congratulations, Hunter. You’re very lucky.”

“Thanks, sis,” Hunter said, looking over at his mother, who appeared peaked.

“Maybe at dinner, you can tell us how you too met and how this all came about,” Paris said with a snobbish grin. He looked down his nose at Stacey slyly as he reached for his water.

“Maybe…Maybe not…We’ll see,” Hunter said, drawing Paris’ attention. “It will depend on how
you
behave.”

Before another word could be uttered by anyone, Hunter’s father pushed through the crowd that was gathering at the entrance and walked inside. Wearing khakis and black linen shirt, he snatched off his hat, revealing his shiny bald spot and walked up to his son. Pointing his short, stubby finger up at his son, he growled. “I want to talk to you
now
,” he said, ignoring Stacey.

“Fine.” Hunter stood back up. “I trust that you won’t try to run her off while I’m gone,” Hunter said to the collective group. No one answered. That was their exact intention. “Will you be alright?” he asked Stacey. There was no way he was going to leave her if she felt uncomfortable.

Stacey patted him. “Oh, I’ll be fine,” she said, locking eyes with Paris.

Rubbing Stacey’s back, he clenched his jaw and followed his father out of the dining room.

Stacey pointed at the water jug. “Would you mind passing me the water, please?” she asked Rhea, who looked as unpleased as her father and brother.

Pushing the water over to Stacey, Rhea tried to smile. “So, I’ve heard through the grapevine that you are a writer.”

“I am,” Stacey said, ready to battle.

“What do you write?” Rhea asked.

“Romance.”

“Are you any good at it?” Paris asked, jumping into the conversation.

“They already know that you’re a bestselling author,” Hanna stepped in. Sitting in Hunter’s seat, she took the jug and poured Stacey some water. “Ignore them. They’re wolves.”

“So, I’ve heard,” Stacey said, sipping her water. “Mrs. Fourakis, you really do have a beautiful home.”

Mrs. Fourakis snapped out of her daze and went to have a seat at the end of the table near Stacey. “Thank you, dear,” she said flatly.

***

Hunter closed the door behind him and his father, shutting out the men who stood outside to hear. Watching the old man pace back and forth in front of his credenza, Hunter finally sighed. “Papa, what is it?”

“How dare you bring that
woman
into this house and embarrass your blessed mother on her day!” Dr. Fourakis spit out. Sweat started to form on his meaty forehead. He patted it with his handkerchief and stuck the cloth in his back pocket.

“Are you serious?” Hunter asked in a raised voice. “
That woman
is my fiancée.” He pointed toward the door.

“And this is how you tell the family?”

“I just asked her not even two nights ago. I didn’t know I had to call and get permission from you first,” Hunter snapped.

“You can’t marry a black woman. You are a Fourakis. You have to marry Greek.”

“I know who I am, and yes, I will marry her! Dammit, I’m a grown man!” Hunter said growling.

***

The news quickly spread through the house that Hunter had arrived and brought his new fiancée with him. Everyone who had gathered outside in the back near the dock, near the television in the entertainment room and out front on the porch found their way to the dining room to see his mysterious black woman and the ring that rested on her hand. Sitting around like children waiting on a nighttime story, they watched on quietly with pleasant smiles and wide eyes. However, no one was happy.

Hunter’s older sister was the first to attack. Chomping at the bit, she waited until she had an audience before she began her sneaky interrogation. “So how did your family take the news about the marriage?” Rhea asked, taking her seat beside Paris.

As if Rhea had not said anything at all, Stacey lazily looked over at Mrs. Fourakis, who was obviously having a breakdown, and felt a tinge of guilt for the woman’s grief. “Do you need any help in the kitchen, Mrs. Fourakis?” Stacey offered.

“No…no.” Mrs. Fourakis smiled. “We have nearly finished. We just have to add a few minor touches, and we’ll be ready to have our Mother’s Day dinner.” She ran her hand over the linen tablecloth. “Did you get a chance to see your mother for Mother’s Day and tell her the good news?” Tears formed at the sides of her eyes. She wiped them quickly.

“No, my mother passed away when I was a young girl,” Stacey said, scooting up to the table. “Hunter is lucky to have such a caring woman in his life. You did all of this on your day. How thoughtful.” She looked over the large feast.

“You don’t have a large family?” Paris asked. “I thought all blacks had large families.”

“We
Greek women
love to cook,” Mrs. Fourakis interrupted, warming up to Stacey. “Do you like to cook?”

“Not particularly, but I am getting better at it.” Stacey cut her eyes at Paris. She would get to him in just a minute.

“Well, if you are going to be married to a Greek man, you have to learn how to cook Greek foods.”

“I’m sure.” Stacey turned to Paris with a razor sharp tongue. “Paris Fourakis, right? The name sounds familiar. What field of medicine?” She tilted her head and put her index finger on her lip.

“Pain management,” he answered.

“One of my lawyers,
who has had me on retainer forever
, uses your practice. Douglas Jackson. Do you know him?” Stacey asked with a smile.

“Everyone knows Douglas. He’s one of the best legal minds in the city,” Paris answered.

“And a
black
man,” Stacey said, winking. “I’m sure the next time that I speak with him, I’ll make sure to tell him that I met you. Did you know that he’s the president of the NAACP in the greater Seattle area? His entire family is practically card-carrying, lifetime members. His father is one of the best civil rights lawyers on the west coast. He moved up here from LA.”

Paris understood the threat. Douglas had referred countless people to his practice over the years. To have the man come out publicly against him would ruin his business.

Stacey knew that she had made her point. “Why don’t you ask
him
on his next visit if he has a large family and tell him about your little theory. I’m sure he’ll be quite interested to hear what you have to say?” Seeing that Paris had been muzzled, Stacey turned back to Mrs. Fourakis. “I was married before. He passed away around the same time that Corina did. He died in the rain in a car accident headed to a book signing.”