Dear Miss Davos,
Excusing my English, we have faith we are your family in Athens, Greece. You and Sofia Davos are the children of Stavros and Helena Davos? You are Keeper?
It is of our understanding that Stavros and Helena are no more. I am to search many years for Helena and family. I find your restaurant on the computer. If you are these maidens, please write to me now. There is much importance. Please to take most cautions, you are in danger. I am Maria Karras, aunt. TELL NO ONE. Be of haste!!!
I kiss you, beloved maidens, and pray for you, Maria Karras (sister from Helena Karras Davos)
âOh, my God,â Nia murmured as she finished reading the e-mail on her desktop computer. Her heart pounded and her mind raced.
We might have family. In Greece. We might not be alone in the world after all. But what kind of danger could we be possibly be in? Weâre nobodies. Whatâs a Keeper? Is this woman trying to ask me if I own the restaurant?
Her face tingled as she reread the e-mail. With trembling hands, she freed her riot of black curls from her prized tortoiseshell clip, holding the clip between her teeth as she re-wound her hair into a chignon. It was a nervous habit. Tendrils grazed her temples and forehead as she put the clip back in place. It had belonged to her mother, and it was one of her most treasured possessions.
Maria Karras, aunt. Davos is such a common Greek name. But she got our parentsâ names and our names rightâ¦except that itâs Sophie, not Sofia. Is this some kind of Internet prank?
Narrowing her thickly fringed, dark Grecian eyes in thought, she looked across her tiny, messy office to her little sister Sophie, who was curled up cross-legged inside the bulging storage closet like a cat. Sophie, engrossed in her new book, was oblivious of the boxes of linens, dishes and cooking implements stacked around her. Nia would have panicked inside such a hidey-hole; she was extremely claustrophobic.
Stripped down from the many layers sheâd donned against the Montreal winter to one of Niaâs pink T-shirts and black tights, Sophie was reading the latest fantasy novel by one of her favorite authors.
Nia understood Sophieâs love of fantasies and happily-ever-after. Orphaned at the age of five, now eleven and nearing puberty, with a frazzled older sister who worked long days to keep their Greek restaurant goingâit wasnât the kind of life a sweet little princess should live.
If Maria Karras was Maâs sister, she could tell them so many things they didnât know. About her childhood, and her life before their births. Ma had disliked talking about herself, and she had died a mystery. Maybe this bolt out of the blue would give them answersâto all Niaâs new questions as well.
Sophie unfolded her long legs and hunched forward, self-conscious of her blossoming figure. âWhy are you staring at me?â
I think we have an aunt. We have family, my darling. Exceptâ¦there may a catch. They may be crazyâ¦or our mother might have a past she kept hiddenâ¦and thatâs catching up with us.
âJust because,â Nia said.
âI love you, too.â Sophie smiled sweetly and went back to her book.
Nia turned back to the desktop and searched the Internet for âKeeper.â Embarrassingly, the first thing that popped up was a feminine product, and then an entry for a character in a computer game.
She tried to frame a response to Maria Karras. She knew what to say: Dear Ms. Karras, I think you may be our aunt. My mother was born in Mykonos. Please tell me what sort of danger we may be in.
But the truth was, she was afraid, and not just of the warning in Mariaâs message. Nia was a veteran of dashed hopes. The centerpiece of her messy alcove desk was the bouquet Nico had sent over a week agoâroses in winter, their petals dead and dropping all over her tax forms. The accompanying card crowned a stack of receipts. It was inscribed with a single word: Adio. Adio to their engagement, to someone to share her life with and to a father figure for Sophie.
Why? Because sheâd been âtoo busy.â Caring for Sophie and running a business hadnât left much time for romance.
âAnd I want to raise children of my own,â heâd addedâthe final blow. He wasnât the first man to run scared at the thought of an instant family with an eleven-year-old.
She picked up the loose petals and dumped them in the little metal trash can. She really should just throw the flowers out. Who was more upset over the breakup, she or Sophie? Two hearts were wounded, of that she was sure. She wasnât actually sure if Nico had a heart.
She didnât want another disappointment so soon after that one. What if Maria Karrasâs next e-mail said, Iâm so sorry, but my sister Helena was born in Cyprus?
At least she wouldnât have to worry about being in danger.
âGia sou! Hoopa!â The cheers in the private room sharing her office wall were followed by the crash of a plate.
