Brad and Kristen looked up and smiled.

“Hey,” said Melissa. Except that it wasn’t Melissa. It was Gretchen.

Damn my worthless, shortsighted eyes and damn my moronic impulse to wear my glasses in the sea straight to hell.

“Was it you creeping around upstairs last night?” she asked. “About gave me a heart attack.”

“No,” I said. Gretchen’s room, like Brad and Kristen’s, was on the floor below mine. “I thought I heard something but figured it was just my imagination. You know, unfamiliar place . . .”

“No,” said Gretchen, very sure of herself. “I heard someone. It wasn’t Brad or Kristen.”

“Maybe it was Marcus,” I said.

“I don’t think so,” said Gretchen.

What the hell did that mean? Like she’d know where he’d spent every second of the night? I didn’t believe it.

“And the master bedroom is on the other side of the house,” said Gretchen, conspiratorially. “With its own bathroom.”

“So you think what?” I pushed. She was annoying me.

“Someone is obviously telling porkies,” said Gretchen.

“Porkies?” said Kristen.

“Pork pies,” said Gretchen. “Lies. You know. Rhyming slang.”

“Oh,” said Kristen vaguely. “Right.”

“Are you saying I’m lying about not sneaking around the house last night?” I demanded, my spine stiffening.

Gretchen turned to me. Her face was both baffled and shocked.

“Of course not,” she said. “I was kidding.”

I stared at her, feeling the color rise in my face.

“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry. I . . . God, I’m still really tired. I don’t know what I . . . sorry.”

Her uncomplicated smile flicked on and the confusion was gone.

“Know the feeling,” she said. “Coffee?”

“Oh God, yes.”

“Just a heads up,” said Brad. “Greek coffee is terrible. It’s either instant Nescafé, which tastes like gray Kool-Aid, or it’s the Turkish stuff that should be spread on roads.”

“She has been here before, dear,” said Kristen, not looking up.

“Just pour me a cup,” I said.

He grinned and shrugged.

“Your funeral,” he said.

“Morning darlings!” called Melissa from the foyer. She was leading Simon in by the hand. They both looked slightly tousled but wide awake and brimming with health. “Lots of fun things packed in for today!”

“Good God,” I said, “can’t you be like regular people for once?”

“It’s a glorious day,” said Simon, grinning from ear to ear.

“And we’ve been up hours,” Melissa stage whispered. “You should see him when he wakes up. Like a bear in January.”

“Is Marcus not up?” I asked.

“Went for a walk,” said Brad. “Wanted to see the sights. Trees, presumably. And stones. There are lots of stones. It’s awesome.”

“OK, Mr. Grumpy,” said Kristen. “Time to shake it off.”

“Well, I hope you can get a taste for stones,” cooed Melissa, “because we’re gonna see lots of them today.”

“Uh-oh,” said Brad. “I don’t like the sound of this.”

“It’s gonna be great,” said Melissa.

“What is it?” asked Brad, still dour.

“Finish up your breakfast and we’ll head out,” said Melissa. “Bring your bathing suits.”

“Seriously, Mel,” said Brad. “What is it?”

“Just get your things together—” Melissa began.

“What if we don’t want to go?” said Brad, an edge to his smile. “I mean, we were flying for about a week yesterday. I thought we’d have a lazy day.”

“We can do that tomorrow,” said Melissa. “Last time we were here we barely left the hotel bar. This time . . .”

“Oh God,” said Brad. “If I’d wanted a tour I’d have booked one of those geriatric educational cruises.”

“Mel’s laid on some great stuff,” said Simon loyally. “Gonna be fun.”

“I’d just like to be able to provide a little input—” said Brad.

“It’s a mystery tour!” said Melissa. “Trust me. Gonna be a blast. And there’ll be plenty of time for lounging and drinking later.”

“Too bad there’s no pool,” said Brad, gazing out onto the patio. “Bit of a swim, no salt sticking to you for the rest of the day. That would hit the spot.”

Melissa turned to Simon, and her face, which had been so full of light, looked fractured, as if she was barely holding in a sob. It was so surprising I didn’t know what to say, but Kristen saw it too, and turned abruptly to Brad.

“Let’s get ready, Brad,” she said. “I think you’ve had enough coffee.”

There was something in her voice that I hadn’t heard before. Her soft British vowels and tight consonants were almost gone and she sounded like an American, all the Mary Poppins falling away. It made her sound sharp, forceful. Brad said nothing but got to his feet. I focused on stirring my coffee, as if I had stumbled onto something embarrassing.

“What crawled up his ass?” Simon muttered once they were out of earshot.

“Simon!” Melissa scolded.

“He’s being a prick,” said Simon. “Was he always a prick? I don’t remember.”

I wanted to say yes, he always kind of was, but we liked him anyway because he was usually funny with it and was mostly a prick to other people. He was the one with the snide remarks about the fat German on the beach, the one who teased the cab drivers for the age of their cars and mocked the waitresses for their patchy English, using words he knew they wouldn’t understand, then translating with even harder words. He did it gently, playfully, always with a smile so no one could take offense, but yes, he’d always been sort of a prick. The only thing that was new was his directing it at us. I wondered why.

“I’m gonna go get ready,” said Melissa. “Don’t take all day.”

“Absolutely, your highness,” said Simon. Melissa tapped his cheek lightly as she walked by, and he grinned after her just as her voice came back from the foyer.

“See any birds?” she called as she made for the stairs.

“A few.”

It was Marcus’s voice. Gretchen winced, suddenly small and chastened, and I turned to see that he had just walked in, looking braced and happy.

“What a day!” he said.

“Good walk?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Not much to see in the way of civilization, but yes. Amazing views. There’s some sort of old gun casement in the cliffside below the house. World War II, I guess. I looked for a way up but couldn’t see one, then walked all the way round the other side. There’s a little church or monastery or something with a tower over on the far side of the valley. Beautiful. But nothing in walking distance. No houses. No shops. No gas stations. I hadn’t realized just how isolated we were. It’s kind of wonderful. I mean, I’m sure you could get to a village if you kept going in the right direction, but, yeah, we’re pretty much alone up here.”

He said it musingly, smiling at me, and I remembered why I had liked him. Loved him.

“Dude,” Simon remarked. “You make it sound so lame. This is just a base. We’re gonna do some great shit.”

“Morning, Marcus,” said Gretchen, putting a show of cheeriness on.

“Morning,” he said, smiling after the briefest hesitation, like he’d decided to just ease right past last night’s awkwardness.

“Listen,” she said, glancing around the room as if deciding whether to ask the rest of us to leave. She clasped and unclasped her hands. “I don’t really remember last night, Marcus, but I think I might have said . . .”

“It’s fine,” said Marcus. “It was nothing.”

“It’s just that . . . ,” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken. “I don’t know. I didn’t mean anything bad. The opposite really. I just don’t generally . . .”

“You don’t have any black friends,” said Marcus. He was being patient, but there was a stillness about him that said he hadn’t made up his mind which way this was going to go. It would probably depend on her. Simon and I watched, tense and not sure how to help. “It’s OK. It’s pretty common.”

“Thanks. I mean, I don’t know how . . . I just want to . . . understand. Your people.”

“My people?” said Marcus, stiffening again.

“I don’t mean . . . oh, I don’t know. I don’t understand why this is so hard . . .”

“Look, Gretchen,” said Marcus. “I know you mean well, but I don’t want to play cultural translator for you right now, OK? I’m on vacation. Can I just be a person for a while?”

She gaped a little, then nodded.

“Thanks,” said Marcus, his smile warming.

“But you know what I mean, right?” said Gretchen.

“Let’s let it go, OK?” said Marcus.

She looked at him, and he held her eyes, still smiling but with a note of caution in his face. She nodded quickly.

“Sure,” she said. “Absolutely.”

He took a step toward her and put an arm around her shoulder and gave her a little squeeze. Gretchen’s face lit up. She didn’t understand what had just happened, but she felt forgiven, and that was all that mattered.

“Aaaaanyway,” said Simon.

I started laughing and Gretchen joined in, hesitantly at first, sensing she’d done something silly and endearing but not entirely sure what.

“So,” said Marcus, turning to the room as a whole. “You were about to tell us all this great shit we were going to do.”