A Wedding for the Greek Tycoon. Rebecca Winters

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СКАЧАТЬ the news she’d been waiting for. She had plans and there was no time to lose.

      “Here’s hoping that from now on you can live a normal life.”

      Normal... It would never be normal when she knew the cancer would return. But she smiled at him. “How can I thank you for everything you’ve done for me?”

      “You already have by working so hard to get well. You have a beautiful spirit and are an inspiration to the other patients here in the hospital. All the friends you’ve made here will miss you.”

      Tears stung her eyes. “I’ll miss them more.” With this checkup behind her, she could put her plan into action.

      “I doubt that.”

      Zoe folded her arms to her waist. “My bill has to be astronomical. If it takes me the rest of my life, I’m going to pay back every cent of it.”

      “It’s been taken care of by the generosity of the Giannopoulos Foundation Charity.”

      “I’m aware of that.” So aware, in fact, she needed to thank the members of the Giannopoulos family personally and one day she would. “But everyone who works here is an angel, especially you. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve such care.”

      When she’d been admitted to the hospital, she’d read the material given to every patient. The first time she’d gone to the chapel inside the hospital she’d read the plaque. It had been named for the Church of Agii Apostoli in Greece.

       In honor of Patroklos Giannopoulos and his wife Irana Manos who survived the malaria outbreak on Paxos in the early l960s.

       In honor of her brother Kristos Manos who survived the malaria outbreak and emigrated to New York to build a new life.

       In honor of Patroklos Giannopoulos who died from lymphoma.

      “I’m here by the grace of the foundation here in New York too,” the doctor reminded her. “It was established for Greek Americans with lymphoma who have no living family or means for the kind of help you’ve needed. There are some wonderful, generous people in this world. Do you have a place to go?”

      “Yes. Father Debakis at the Sacred Trinity Greek Orthodox Church has taken care of everything. I’ve known him since I was young. Throughout my ordeal he’s been in constant contact with me. I owe him so much, and Iris Themis too. She’s from the humanitarian council at Sacred Trinity and has arranged to take me to their homeless shelter where I can stay until I find a job and a place to live. All I have to do is phone her at her office.”

      “Splendid. As you know, you’ll need another checkup in six weeks, either here or at another hospital depending on what’s convenient. It will include a blood test and physical exam for lumps. But you can contact me at any time if you have concerns.”

      Zoe dreaded her next checkup, but she couldn’t think about that right now. Instead she stood up to give him a hug. “Thank you for helping me get my life back. You’ll never know what it means.”

      After she left his office, she hurried through the hospital and walked along the corridor that led to the convalescent center. She had a room on the second floor. Having lost her family, this had been her home for twelve months.

      In the beginning, Zoe didn’t dream that she’d ever leave this place alive. At first the man she’d been dating had called her often, but the technology company Chad worked for transferred him to Boston and the calls grew fewer and fewer. She understood, but it hurt her to the core. Even if he’d told her he was crazy about her, if he could leave at the darkest moment of her life, then she couldn’t expect any man to accept her situation.

      Though there were family friends from her old neighborhood who phoned her every so often, the inmates had become her choice friends. With all of them being Greek American, they shared stories of their family histories and had developed a camaraderie so strong she didn’t want to leave them. It was here that her whole life had passed before her.

      Once inside her room, she sat down on the side of the bed and phoned Iris. They planned to meet in front of the convalescent center in a half hour. One day Iris and the priest would receive their crowns in heaven.

      Zoe had emerged from her illness wanting to help people the way they’d helped her. College could wait. If she could go to work for the Giannopoulos Foundation, that was what she wanted to do. Of necessity Zoe would have to approach Alexandra Kallistos, the woman who managed this center, but any experiences with her were unsettling. The other woman was standoffish. Whether that was her nature, or if she just didn’t care for Zoe, she didn’t know.

      Earlier today when they’d passed each other in the hall, Ms. Kallistos hadn’t even acknowledged her. Maybe it was because Zoe was taking up a bed someone else needed, but the therapist had insisted she still needed to be here. Because she’d lost her parents and required more time to heal mentally, the arrangements had been made for which Zoe would be eternally grateful.

      Ms. Kallistos had an office at the hospital and was officially in charge. All the staff, doctors, nurses, therapists, lab workers, X-ray technicians, orderlies, kitchen help, volunteers and housekeeping people reported to her. She was a model of efficiency, but Zoe felt she lacked the bedside manner needed to make the inmates comfortable enough to confide in her.

      Alexandra was a striking, brown-eyed, single Greek American woman probably in her early thirties. Her dark brown hair flounced around her shoulders. She wore fashionable clothes that made the most of her figure. But she seemed cold. Maybe that wasn’t a fair judgment, but the thought of approaching her for a position made Zoe feel uneasy.

      If there was a problem, maybe Father Debakis would have better luck in bringing up the subject of Zoe working here.

      August 10, Athens, Greece

      Vasso Giannopoulos was nearing the end of the audits on the Giannopoulos Complex in Athens, Greece he co-owned with Akis, his younger married brother, when he heard his private secretary buzz him. He’d been looking over the latest inventories from their convenience stores in Alexandroupolis.

      “Yes, Kyria Spiros?”

      “Ms. Kallistos is on the line from New York. She’s calling from the hospital in New York, asking to speak to you or your brother. Do you want to take it, or shall I tell her you’ll call her back later? I know you didn’t want to be disturbed.”

      “No, no. You did the right thing.” The Giannopoulos Hospital and Convalescent Center were located in Astoria. But why she would be calling when he was scheduled to meet with her tomorrow seemed odd. His head lifted. “I’ll speak to her.”

      “Line two.”

      He picked up the phone. “Alexandra? This is Vasso.”

      “I’m sorry to bother you, Vasso. I thought I could catch you before you fly here. You’re very kind to take my call.”

      “Not at all.”

      “Everyone knows that you and your brother established the Giannopoulos Greek American Lymphoma Center here in New York several years ago. This is the fourth time that I’ve been contacted by a major television network to devote a piece to your lives.

      “The managing director of the network wants to send a crew here to film the facility СКАЧАТЬ