The Greek's Tiny Miracle. Rebecca Winters

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      “I’m trying to reach Dev Harris, the scuba diver from New York I partnered with that first week. Do you have a phone number or an email for him? Anything at all to help me? He left so suddenly, I’ve worried over the last few months that he might have been taken ill. I have pictures I’d like to send him via email.”

      “Let me check. Don’t hang up.”

      “No. I won’t.”

      She paced the bedroom of her condo while she waited. There were a lot of Devlin, Devlon or Devlan Harrises listed in New York City, but none she could reach was the man she was trying to find.

      When she’d first gotten back to Florida, anger had driven her to phone New York information, but there was no such name listed for him. She’d spent several days phoning exporting companies where he might be working, but she’d turned up nothing.

      After exhausting that avenue, she’d called various airlines that had landed planes on the island April 18, but got no help. The resort could tell her only what she already knew, that he was from New York. That was when she’d given up. But her pregnancy had changed everything.

      “Stephanie? I’m back. Sorry, but there is no address or phone number. Perhaps one of the shops you visited would know something.”

      She bit her lip in disappointment. “We didn’t do any shopping, but he did have some flowers delivered to me. Would they have come from the resort?”

      “No, no. The Plant Shop in town. Just a minute and I’ll give you the number.” She held her breath while she waited. “Yes. Here it is.”

      Stephanie wrote it down. “You live up to your name, Angelo. Thank you so much.”

      “You’re welcome. Good luck finding him.”

      After hanging up, she placed the call. Stephanie had once told him she loved gardenias. Tears stung her eyes. She had to admit his parting gift had been done with a certain style, while at the same time destroying her dreams. If there were no results, then the baby she was carrying would never know its father.

      “The Plant Shop.”

      “Hello. My name is Stephanie Walsh. I’m calling from Florida. On April 27 a box of gardenias from your shop was delivered to me at the Palm Resort. I never did get to thank the gentleman who sent it to me. He left before I realized he’d gone. His name was Dev Harris. Could you give me an address or a phone number, please? He’s from New York City. That’s all I know.”

      It was a long shot, but she was desperate.

      “I’m sorry, but we can’t give out that information.”

      “Can you at least tell me what time he left the order?”

      “Just a moment and I’ll check.” After a minute, the salesclerk returned. “It was phoned in at 5:00 p.m.”

      “Thank you for your help.”

      After she hung up, one more idea flitted through her mind. She called the resort again and asked if she could speak to Delia, the darling girl who’d been the maid for their rooms. Could Delia call Stephanie back collect, please? It was very important.

      The front desk said they’d give her the message. Within a half hour, Stephanie’s phone rang and it was the resort calling. Delia was on the other end.

      “Hello, Stephanie.”

      “Oh, Delia. Thanks so much for calling me back.”

      “Of course. How is the handsome Dev?”

      I wish I knew. “Actually, I’m not sure. I’m really worried about him. That’s why I’ve phoned you. I’m thinking he must have left the island early because he was ill and didn’t want me to know or worry. I thought I would have heard from him by now, and need your help to find him if it’s at all possible.”

      “Tell you what. My boyfriend works at the airport servicing the planes before takeoff. I’ll ask him to find out what planes took off on April 27 after five in the evening. Perhaps he’ll learn something that can help you.”

      “I’ll make this worth your while, Delia.”

      “I would like to do this for you. I never saw two people more in love.”

      Tears scalded Stephanie’s eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I just hope he isn’t fatally ill.”

      “I don’t blame you for being upset.”

      Whether Delia believed her excuse for calling or not, Stephanie couldn’t worry about that now.

      Two hours later her phone rang again. “Stephanie? He couldn’t get you names, but there were three flights out that evening, if this helps. One was a nonstop flight to Los Angeles, California, another nonstop to Vancouver, British Columbia. The last was a private jet owned by the Vassalos Corporation, headed for Athens, Greece.”

      She blinked.

      None of the planes had headed due north to New York. Her spirits plunged. If he’d been called back to his work on an emergency, surely he would have taken a direct flight to New York. There were dozens of them leaving the Caribbean for that destination.

      “You’re an angel for being willing to help me, Delia. Expect a thank-you in the mail for you and your boyfriend from me.”

      Stephanie rang off, shaking with the knowledge that Dev had lied to her without compunction. Who are you, mystery man? Had he pulled a fictitious name out of a hat on the spur of the moment? Was Dev a nickname?

      One thing she was convinced of at this point: he was no New Yorker. And he’d been in an enormous hurry when he’d left Providenciales. Thousands of businessmen traveled by private jet. Certainly if he’d needed to leave before they’d even had dinner, it would make sense he had his own special mode of transportation waiting. No long lines...

      Before she did anything else, she went to her computer in the den of the condo she’d inherited from her mother, to make a global search of the name Vassalos in Greece. One source came up more prominent than all the rest and drew her attention. Vassalos Maritime Shipping, Egnoussa, Greece.

      Shipping...

      After more searches she discovered the Oinousses, a group of small islands in the eastern Aegean Sea near Turkey. Egnoussa, the largest inhabited one, was fourteen kilometers long. One of Greece’s most important naval academies was based there, due to the rich seafaring history of the islands. A smaller island, Oinoussa, was also inhabited.

      Reading further, she learned Egnoussa was home to some of the richest shipping magnate families in the world. There were only four hundred or so inhabitants, with some fabulous mansions. A naval commercial academy and museum were located on one part of the island.

      She replayed the memories of Dev in her mind. His urbane sophistication and knowledge set him apart from other men she’d known. He’d possessed a natural authority and spoke impeccable English. But when she thought about it, she realized he hadn’t sounded like a New Yorker.

      Had he come СКАЧАТЬ