The Santorini Setup by Becky Bohan-eBook-FINAL by Bohan Becky

Author:Bohan, Becky
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: NanBec Books
Published: 2022-02-02T00:00:00+00:00

An hour later, Britt parked her Vespa at the Mesa Vouno cul-de-sac that served as a parking lot. A few scooters, a couple of taxis, and four donkeys with their owners filled the circle of pavement. Britt, playing the role of tourist at this archaeological site, held out a handful of Euros to the attendant at the gate, then proceeded up the winding path toward the classical ruins.

A little over halfway there, she paused at the rock carvings of the lion, the dolphin, and the eagle. Standing by the stone with Zeus’s bird, Britt adjusted her daypack and continued her ascent to the ruins.

Once at the site, Britt picked her way along the footpaths snaking through acres of broken stones. Unlike the Minoan ruins at Akrotiri, from the fourteenth century B.C., these Hellenic ruins dated from the third century B.C. Atop the second highest mountain on the island, the site afforded a bird’s-eye view of the land and surrounding sea. To the northeast, Britt counted nine small islands, and to the south, Crete appeared as a smudge on the hazy seam of the horizon, more mirage than reality. The highest mountain, Profitis Elias, loomed next door, blocking a view of the western side of the island. A monastery and NATO radar station perched on its summit.

Britt wandered through the ruins of the once men-only city, some parts still decorated with ancient graffiti of male genitals. Black beetles the size of a thumbnail trundled across the paths, and hordes of ants marched in ever-changing directions. The burnt grass and dried thistles along the path rustled with the quick movement of small gray lizards. After an hour in the merciless sun, Britt sought respite from the heat in a cluster of pines northeast of the theater. She pulled out a bottle of water from her daypack, drank, then sat quietly, listening to the furious buzz of huge black flies. Her thoughts bounced between Susan Marcello and Cassie Burkhardt. She didn’t know what to make of either one of them, but both spelled danger.

Hot and satisfied, she started back to the parking lot. Just before she reached the stone carvings of the animals, Britt strayed from the beaten path to an outcropping that afforded the most spectacular view of the island. The entire crescent of land lay before her. Small groups of buildings marked the island villages, and a patchwork of odd-shaped fields filled the spaces between the settlements. Tiny white monasteries and shrines popped up everywhere like alabaster mushrooms, their domes painted blue to symbolize the sky.

Britt sat on a rock and concentrated on the stretch of Kamari Beach four hundred meters below. Sunbathers dotted the black surface like grains of tossed rice. Britt picked out the Seaside and Maria’s B&B, side-by-side, from the cluster of buildings inland from the beach. She quickly turned her attention back to the strip of sand, shutting out thoughts of Cassie and Bob and what they might be doing. She was surprised at her jealousy and alarmed at the feelings underlying it.

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