MAKING PLANS
Rachel stumbled over the soft sand, wishing she had worn her flat sandals. Her husband Nik, hands in pockets, walked a few paces ahead. The evening sun glinted off the silver that had recently appeared in his dark hair. He looked deep in thought. So deep in thought, he hadn’t noticed she had fallen behind. When he did, he turned, waiting for her to catch up.
She was slightly out of breath when she reached him. ‘My sandals are too tight,’ she explained. ‘I think my feet are swollen.’
They both looked down. Her ankles were indeed a little puffy, the leather strap digging in slightly. Holding on to his arm for balance, she lifted one foot and loosened the buckle.
‘You should have said something, love,’ Nik chided. ‘We could have met Petros and Eleni closer to the apartment so you didn’t have to walk so far.’
She could have. But walking along the beach to ‘their’ restaurant was one of the much-loved rituals of
