In Between Frames Read Online Free Page A

though—much though she liked the man, she didn’t think he fit their lives like that.   He felt more like the adventurous fling, or the good bachelor friend who’d show up for barbeque and beer and chat up all of her friends and maybe even talk one into going home with him—and they’d have a one-night stand, share the juicy details about each other to their friends, but it wouldn’t last and they wouldn’t hold it against each other.   Stephan was not a man she saw (yet) as a father, the one who comforted Mabel when she scraped her knee, or helped her with the dishes after a long day.
     
    She was wondering how to tell Mabel that when her daughter said, “I mean, I don’t want him to be my daddy.   But maybe he could be your friend, so you won’t get too lonely.”
     
    “Oh Mabel, sweetie,” Sam whispered, picking up her daughter.   She pretended to smell Mabel’s hair, so that the girl wouldn’t see her cry.   But she was pretty sure her daughter knew.  
     

     

 
    Part II
     
    The business of settling in was the same everywhere:   go to the “city”, which Loutraki , for all its resorts and the blustering false sophistication of the shopkeepers there, could never be; fill out paperwork.   Wait a few weeks.   Fill out more paperwork.   Inquire, in broken language, where to make copies of the passports, and be sent to a small library which doesn’t have a copier.   Learn that copiers can be found in the supermarket a mile from where you live.   Sam began to understand why her parents, who moved from France, to the US, then to Laos, then Nigeria, and finally to England, were always grumbly for the first three weeks anywhere.   
     
    It finally felt right to don colorful clothing, now that she was away from England.   She’d packed a variety of blouses and camisoles and Capri pants, sandals and one pair of stilettos, but about half of the items were black, or gray .   She considered trading them in, but they were all expensive labels and if she wanted to get a job eventually, it might be nice to look a little more formal.   But she did tuck them in the bottom drawer of the dresser, unsure of what to make of her relief that she didn’t have to compete with David for space.  
     
    It was a week before Sam and Mabel went back to the shop where they first met Stephan.    The Ionides kept a convenience shop, selling small packages of food, maps, the weekend editions of foreign papers, and some cheap souvenirs, key chains and the like, emblazoned with imitation-Hellenic script.    Sam had been to Greece often enough in the past to know that the proper way to go about arranging for Greek lessons was to not do it properly, and in their conversation that first night, Stephan had told them that he’d done university in London, studying history.   His English, at any rate, was decent enough that Sam wasn’t too worried about him corrupting Mabel.  
     
    “I’m looking for Stephan.   Ste- phan ,” Sam said, to Jon Ionides .   He looked at her, frowning for a moment, but he called his son all the same.   Stephan, at least, was happy to see them, and after a brief argument with his father, he led her and Mabel outside.
     
    “What was that about?” Sam asked.
     
    “He is worried that you ruin me,” Stephan said, laughing.   “My parents are old-fashioned.”   He tucked his chin into his throat, and continued, in a false baritone, “You must marry a Greek woman.   Someone who understands our faith.”   He shook his head, and said, “Funny thing, but they have not been to church in years.”
     
    Mabel giggled, and pretended not to notice her mother glowering at her.   They walked down the hill slowly, no destination in mind, just following the laws of gravity and the blue of the ocean.   Things seemed possible in this place—but unlikely.  
     
    “I wanted to know if you were serious about Greek lessons,” Sam said.  
     
    Stephan gave her a measured look.   He’s