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Sweet Baklava

By Debby Mayne

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Nothing like the aroma of authentic Greek food to stir a
woman’s injured soul. Paula Andrews had to walk around toys
scattered on the front porch. She inhaled deeply and knocked
on the door of the large, two-story, wood-frame house. Nestled
among other old Tarpon Springs, Florida, mansions, the
Papadopoulos family home overlooked the Anclote River’s
Spring Bayou. She heard the bustling and scurrying inside the
house as she stood and waited. A wave of nostalgia blended
with the smells coming from the house and fl ooded her senses.
The only thing that trumped chicken fried steak on her taste
buds was Greek food cooked by one of the Papadopoulos
women.
“Don’t knock!” someone yelled. “Just come on in!”
Tentatively at fi rst, she pushed open the door a few inches.
When she was certain a small child wasn’t smashed up against
the other side, she shoved harder, making the heavy wooden
door squeak. As she entered the grand, two-story foyer, she
spotted a familiar petite fi gure standing on the top rung of a
ladder, her arms stretched to their maximum, fussing with the
end of a piece of crepe paper.
“Hey, girl,” Paula called up to her best friend. “What can I
do to help?”
“Hand me that streamer.” Steph Papadopoulos pointed to
the table beneath the ladder.
Paula grabbed the fi rst one she came to and passed it to
her friend. “Nick will love this.” She surveyed the room, and
her eyes rested on the banner. “But why does it say ‘Welcome
home, John Smith’?”
Steph smoothed the tape over the streamer and chuckled
as she stepped down off the ladder. “Remember that old
family joke? Nick Papadopoulos is the Greek version of John
Smith?”
“Yeah, that’s right.” Paula grinned. “I do remember. And this
is so you, Steph! Nick’ll be beside himself when he sees all
this.”
Steph snorted. “Nick’s so full of himself, that’s impossible.”
A couple of children scampered past them. Steph hollered,
“Slow down, or you’ll break something.” She shook her head.
“I don’t know where my brothers are, but they’re obviously not
watching their kids.”
“Young’uns. Gotta love ’em.”
Steph grinned at her. “You always did have a way with
words.”
As if on cue, a shrill scream emanated from the other side
of the wall. “Stephie! Joey put gum in my hair!”
“Did not,” the little boy yelled back. “That’s yellow gum in
your hair. Mine’s blue.”
Steph groaned and rolled her eyes, but Paula noticed the
spark of amusement on her face as she rounded the corner and
placed her hands on her hips. “Okay, you two. Enough of this
craziness. Get me the scissors, Cleo, and I’ll get that gum out
of your hair.”
“No way.” The little girl giggled. “I’ll get the peanut butter.
That’s what Mama always uses.”
Steph quirked an eyebrow. “This is obviously not the fi rst
time your hair’s been tangled with gum.” She plucked another
streamer from the table and held it up. “Sometimes I think I’m
better off than my brothers.”
“Not so much,” Paula said. “At least they’re married.” She
nodded toward the child who was still in Steph’s grip. “And
they have you to watch their little angels.”
Cleo stuck her tongue out at Paula.
“Yeah, I know, they’re all happily married and everything,
but in my fertile family, kids follow shortly after the wedding,
and the only time they’re quiet is when they’re sleeping. What
do you think?”
Paula contemplated making a face back at Cleo as she studied
the decorations for a few seconds then thought better of it.
“Want my honest opinion?”
“Of course.”
“When they’re your own kids, their noise is like music.”
She rolled her eyes. “Or so I hear.”
Steph made a face. “I was talking about the streamers,
goofball. Do you think we should put silver or gold with the
blue?”
“Nick used to fancy silver.” Paula lifted one of the silver
streamers, held it up against the blue, and studied it. “But I’m
not sure now.”
Steph gave her a look of annoyance. “Just tell me which one
you think he’d like so I can be done with it.”
Paula paused only for a split second. “Silver. Defi nitely
silver.”
“Then gold it is. We don’t want Nick to think we put too
much thought into his homecoming party, or he’ll accuse us of
trying to make him feel guilty for leaving.”
Paula snorted.
“What’s so funny?” Steph moved away from her work and
took a long look at it. “I’m serious.”
Paula had known the Papadopoulos family for eighteen
years. Since she didn’t have much of a family herself, she was
happy they didn’t seem to mind her hanging around. But not
so much lately. Her business, Paula’s Natural Soap and Candle
Shop, consumed most of her waking hours.
“Paula?” Steph waved a hand in front of Paula’s face. “Are
you in there?”
Oh, sorry.” Paula gestured around the room. “Why are
you doing all this now? I thought Nick wasn’t coming until
Saturday. It’s gonna wilt in all this humidity.”
Steph shrugged. “You know my family. They like to turn
everything into a holiday, and they always start early for holidays.”
She held out her hands and shook her head. “Mama
says that’s the Greek way. Who am I to argue?”
“Best not to argue with a Papadopoulos,” Paula agreed as
she looked around the room again. “Okay, so are we still on for
the outlet mall tomorrow?”
Steph nodded. “Yeah, that’s why I’m trying to knock out my
share of the work around here. Mama wants everyone to do
something . . . you know, carry our share of the load and all?”
“I know. I should help out too since y’all have as good as
adopted me.”
“Yeah.” Steph smiled and nodded her understanding.
Paula helped Steph fi nish hanging the streamers. The room
looked like a high school gymnasium before a pep rally, but
that was the whole point. The gaudier the decorations, the
more welcome Nick would feel.
“Ophelia!”
The shrill voice of Steph’s aunt reverberated through the
house, making Paula jump. Steph contorted her mouth, bugged
her eyes, and clicked her tongue. “We know who that is.”
Paula bit her bottom lip to keep from bursting into
laughter.
“Whaddya want?” A middle-aged Greek woman with
shoulder-length, gray fl ecked black hair trudged out of the
kitchen carrying a silver tray and tea service. “Oh, hi, Paula.
You’ll be here for Nick’s homecoming celebration, right?”
Without giving Paula a chance to answer, she yelled, “Whaddya
hollerin’ for, Phoebe? I’m right here.”
Another group of kids ran past. “Slow down!” Steph shouted
after they’d left the room and trotted out of hearing distance.
“C’mon, Paula, let’s go outside where we can talk. This place
is a zoo.”
“Don’t be rude, Steph,” her mother barked. “Let me talk to
Paula before you take off with her.” She put down the silver tray
and offered Paula a sweet smile. “Will you be able to make it to
the party? We have enough food for all of Tarpon Springs and
half of Tampa.” She lowered her chin and looked at Paula from
beneath very bushy eyebrows. “Nick’ll be pleased to see you.”
“I . . . uh, well . . .” Paula widened her eyes and shot Steph
a look for help.
“Of course, you’re coming. You can’t stay away from Nick.”
Without missing a beat, Steph’s mother took a few steps, grabbed
her sister Phoebe, and pulled her toward the stairs. “You should
see how I fi xed up Nick’s room. It’s a sight, I tell ya. Football
posters, football statues, and football pillows everywhere.”
“Don’t forget the sponges,” Steph added. “Once a Sponger,
always a Sponger.”
“I told Arthur he’d better bring home some sponges.” She
hesitated then added, “The biggest net he can fi nd full of
sponges—the best ones in the lot.”
Steph gestured toward the front door. “Let’s get outta here
while they’re not looking.”
As soon as they escaped to the outside, Paula stared back
at the house. “Why is Nick staying here instead of at his
parents’?”
“He’s getting passed around.” Steph snickered. “They drew
straws, and Mama got him fi rst.”
Nothing had changed for Nick. Everyone wanted him.
“Must be nice.”
“Huh?” Steph shot her a quizzical glance.
“Oh, never mind. I tried calling your cell phone, and you
didn’t answer so I fi gured I’d just stop off on my way home from
work to see if you were still coming with us to the outlet mall.
Looks like you’re busy, so I’ll let you get back to your . . . work.”
She paused before adding, “Unless you need help, that is.”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Okay then I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Paula stood up to leave, but Steph yanked her arm. “You are
coming to the party, right?”
“I’m not sure, Steph.” Paula felt her shoulders sag as the
memory of her failed romance with Nick fl ooded her. “It just
seems so . . . I don’t know . . . desperate?”
“That’s not true. You and Nick never really broke up. You
even told me so yourself.”
Paula widened her eyes and bobbed her head. “In case you
haven’t noticed, Nick isn’t exactly beating my door down. As
soon as my back was turned, he took off and joined the Army.”
“Air Force,” Steph corrected.
“Whatever. We have completely different lives now. He
probably doesn’t even want me at his party.”
“He doesn’t know he’s having a party.” Steph shook her
head. “Don’t give me a hard time about this. You’re coming,
and that’s the fi nal word.”

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