The Greek Billionaire's Marriage Matchmaker (9 page)

It took nearly three hours for word to trickle down to Zoey about what had happened in her mother’s office, and she wished for once that the staff Melinda Forde employed was more given to snooping and spreading gossip.

She couldn’t say she was overjoyed with what she eventually heard, but Zoey had to admit it was a positive start. Slowly, her mother was building a new relationship, and Zoey was determined to help her along in any way she could because she wanted Melinda to be as happy as Stelios was making her.

“They obviously love each other,” she said to herself. “But for some reason, they aren’t doing anything about it.”

Right then and there, she made a vow to herself: if they weren’t going to, she would.

When she got home, Zoey put in a call to Stelios, and they discussed her new role as a meddling kid.

“You can’t lead people to love,” Stelios remarked. “You can bring them together, but they must take themselves to love. Your mother will get there in her own time.”

“I suppose you’re right, but ‘her own time’ seems to be one tenth of a snail’s pace.”

“You have to be patient, Zo’. These things take time. I tried to rush on a plane…”

“Yeah, and I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. I thought maybe a simulator…”

“It’s still hard for me to even look at a plane, never mind get in one.”

“I know, but I’ve been looking into it, and there are some things we can do together to lessen your anxiety. For instance, if you know how a plane works and what to expect, that’s one step closer to making getting off the ground easier. I learned that a plane goes through eleven hours of maintenance for every hour it’s in the air.”

“But people still die, Zoey.”

“Yes, that’s true, but they also die falling out of bed. You have a better chance of going that way. Fulton drives us around all the time, and the chances of us dying that way are one in thirty thousand. The chances of what you’re worried about happening are one in
thirty million
. Statistically speaking, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t think talking about this is helping,” Stelios interjected, the anxiety in his voice evident. His parents had been that one case in thirty million, the winners of the worst lottery Stelios could imagine. He could see their plane in his mind’s eye, sailing across the heavens without a care in the world. He could hear them pointing out the clouds to each other, giving shape to the clumps of condensed water vapor. A stewardess was walking down the aisle with her cart, handing meals and snacks out to the passengers as she passed. A ginger-haired girl was making a joke, and her parents were tangled in fits of laughter.

Then the plane shook. First, a little rumble, then a loud, teeth-rattling quake. Through the window, he could see smoke billowing from one of the engines. People were screaming, and the pilot’s voice came over the intercom, struggling to remain calm.

Stelios felt his chest tighten horribly. He thought he could actually smell the smoke. A sheen of sweat cascaded down his forehead. His eyes were alight with cabin fires, and he held his smartphone in a death grip.

Zoey heard his ragged, wheezing breath, and every part of her leaped to attention at once.

“Stelios? Are you all right? Tell me what you’re feeling right now,” Zoey said, her voice full of concern.

“My palms are sweaty and, my fingers are tingling,” he answered in a weak, gasping voice.

“Remember your refuge in the forest, Stelios? I want you to close your eyes and visualize it now. Close your eyes, and listen to my voice. Try to remember the clearing.”

Fighting to regain his composure, Stelios did as he was told. At first, his imagination kept trying to show him the plane crashes he had seen in movies and news reports. But soon, Zoey’s calmer, quieter voice filled his ears, offering him hope. He began to feel his breathing slowing down with each word.

“See the lake,” she was saying. “See the crisp blue lake. Watch the surface ripple as the wind blows across it. See the sailboat perched on the calm water, its sail billowing like a robin’s breast.”

The more she talked, the more meditative Stelios became, and the clearer the picture in his mind appeared. Very soon, his palms were cool, and the tingling that had plagued his fingers was gone. In time, his chest began to loosen, and he began to feel like a human being again.

“Picture the lush green grass of the island, which grows ankle-high and feels like a carpet. See the olive trees with their twisting branches, sun-drenched leaves, and hanging fruit.”

“What is this called, Zoey?” Stelios asked.

“Guided imagery. Is it helping at all?”

“Actually, yes. I feel much calmer now than before.”

“Great. Why don’t we try something else?”

“That’s a good idea, Zoey. Just not today. Right now, I’d really like to talk about something else.” He felt as though he’d barely survived one of the trials of Hercules, and unlike the ancient hero, he needed a rest.

“Well, all right,” she replied. “What would you like to talk about?”

“Why don’t you tell me what you’re afraid of?” he asked.

The question caught Zoey off guard, but she recovered quickly and started on a story about a wasp’s nest in the bushes of her childhood home and the all-consuming terror it had inspired in her. They ended up talking for another two hours before Zoey had to give in to sheer exhaustion.

“I want to thank you for what you did today,” Stelios told Zoey just before he hung up. “I really appreciate how much you’re doing to help me.”

“As long as we’re together,” Zoey told him, “your problems are my problems. Always remember that.”

***

Nearly six months had passed since the debacle surrounding Melinda’s billboard campaign. Zoey was working with Stelios on stress management techniques almost every day now. A slim window of opportunity had opened, and Stelios was keen to take advantage of it.

The following week, he would have a block of free time where no meetings had been arranged, and he wanted to use it to take Zoey to Greece and introduce her to his family—the people who had helped him from afar in his darkest hours. He was focused on his goal in a way that Zoey had to admit was highly impressive. He had yet to step foot on an actual plane, but had gotten through several simulations with flying colors.

“You’ve come such a long way from when we started,” Zoey exclaimed proudly as Stelios stepped out of a large machine. It looked like a cross section of a passenger jet, and moved in ways that showed passengers what to expect from turbulence.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Zo’. You’ve been a huge inspiration to me these past few months.”

“I said I didn’t think there was anything we couldn’t get through together, and I’m glad to know that I was right,” she replied with a laugh.

Stelios kissed her on the cheek and the pair crossed the airfield, eventually reaching Stelios’ black town car. Fulton was leaning against it, patiently awaiting their return.

When they were within earshot, the driver spoke up. “I hope I’m not being too personal when I say this, Mr. Zakiridis, but I’m very proud of what you’ve accomplished, sir.”

“Thank you, Fulton,” the billionaire replied, helping Zoey into the back of the car.

The driver nodded and a few moments later the three of them were on their way back to the city.

On the way, Zoey was struck by the fact that she knew so little about the man who had been driving her around for months. He very rarely spoke, and his proclamation at the airfield had started her thinking. Who was he? How long had he worked for Stelios?

When they reached Manhattan, Zoey told Fulton that she hoped it wasn’t too personal for her to inquire after his first name, if nothing else.

“It’s Herbert, miss,” he replied, turning a tight corner with the ease of a seasoned pro. “Herbert Earnest Fulton is my name. It’s been a pleasure serving you.”

FIFTEEN

On the home front, in a small café near the offices of Melinda Forde Singles, Zoey’s mother was accomplishing a monumental task of her own: sharing a cup of coffee with a client.

Over the past few months, Branden Kingston had been as good as his word, appearing in her office with increased frequency. Several more picnics had followed the first, until it became perfectly impossible for Melinda to deny her heart what it wanted any longer. Finally, she had broached the subject of a date, and Mr. Kingston had proven to be perfectly willing.

“It’s kind of funny,” Branden was saying, as he added creamer to Melinda’s coffee. “When you think about it, places like this offer privacy, despite being chock-full of people. The dim lighting makes it hard to see, and everyone talking at once creates a wall of white noise.”

“Yeah, but every single person has a camera and a video recorder,” she reminded him. “And they pull them out like Clint Eastwood the moment anything remotely interesting happens.”

“Well, private or not, I’m glad we’re here together,” Branden returned. “I’ve wanted to see you like this for a long time. I feel like you can say things on an official date that you can’t really say in someone’s office.”

“We talked about everything in my office, didn’t we? Claire, William, Zoey, greeting cards…”

“Everything but how beautiful I think you are, Melinda. There’s an intensity in your eyes that really demands attention. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Not for a long time,” Melinda admitted; the last person to say that had been a contest judge. “Thank you,” she added warmly. “Well, while we’re sharing, I might as well tell you that I’ve always liked the sound of your voice.”

“My voice?” Branden replied, a little surprised.

“Yes, your voice. It’s a wonderful baritone. Every time you say something, the words feel like they roll over me. I think you’d be a wonderful singer.”

“Tolerable,” he corrected.

“You’re just being modest. Why don’t you sing something now?”

“Because of the dozens of smartphones you mentioned earlier,” Branden answered, laughing a little.

“Oh, don’t mind them,” she replied. “Let me tell you something. I’m forty-something and you’re in your fifties. Neither of us watch YouTube, so there’s really no reason to be afraid.”

Branden had to chuckle at that. “All right, Melinda” he smiled. “You win.” And clearing his throat, he began singing ‘I Can’t Help Myself’.

As he’d said, his voice was tolerable, but after the first few moments of nervousness wore off, it began to improve by degrees. Soon, two or three people near their table were clapping along in time, and Melinda smiled and followed suit. When his rendition came to an end, several people even applauded.

“Now that wasn’t so bad was it?” Melinda said with a grin.

Branden had to admit that it had gone better than he thought. He got a kiss for his trouble, and by the time the pair of them headed back to Melinda’s office, they were surer than ever that they were meant to be together. They set up a second date for the following Saturday.

“I’m so glad I decided to come and see you all those months ago,” Branden said, holding Melinda’s hand at the door to her office. “I doubt there’s a person within a hundred miles of here that’s happier than I am.”

“Zoey might just give you a run for your money,” Melinda replied softly. “She’ll be overjoyed when she finds out about today. She’s been trying to push the two of us together for months now.”

“And bless her heart for doing it. As long as I live, I’ll always be grateful to that girl for sticking her nose in other people’s business.”

“As will I,” Melinda agreed with a grin. “Zoey’s a treasure. She’s done so much to make me feel human again. Thank you for singing today, by the way,” she said, giving Branden another kiss. “Believe it or not, it really made my day.”

“I’m glad it did,” he replied, smiling broadly. “I admit, it went better than I thought it would. I don’t care who you are, it feels good to have an audience clapping for you. But let’s not get used to it.” He shook his head good-naturedly and gave Melinda a peck on the cheek. “I can only sing about two other songs without sounding like a drunken alley cat.”

“I can’t wait to hear them,” returned Melinda. “And remember, I’m always available to sing backup. Sugar pie, honey bunch…” she began to sing.

A moment later, the pair of them were singing together. Branden kept making up silly lyrics to fit the music, causing Melinda to erupt in fits of laughter, her singing veering off-key.

They were at it for a good ten minutes before Branden remembered he had to be on his way. He often told people that, even when one is retired, life refuses to take care of itself. As the echoes of the racket they had been making died away, he fervently wished that it would, just this once.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promised Melinda as he walked out of her office, nodding cheerily at Maria as he did.

“You’d better be!” came the jaunty reply.