A short, older woman opened the door with an apron on and a spatula in one hand. “Ah, ti kenis? Nai?” “Oh, um, I’m sorry. I don’t speak Greek.” I held up the gift. “I’m here for Anastasia’s party.” “Nai, nai. I understand, honey.” She tilted her head back. “Yanni, there’s a pretty girl at my door for Anastasia. No Greek.” She waved the spatula between us and smiled. “Sorry, honey. Little English for me. No greek for you.” A tall man who resembled Vasili stepped to the door. “Please come in.” I entered as the woman shuffled back into the kitchen. “I’m Ioannis, but my family and friends call me Yanni. You are?” “Sarah. I’m a client of Vasili’s.” “A client?” He laughed. “You’re a friend if you’re here.” He ushered me into the living room and a woman stood up.
