The Beautiful Ones

AN: I don’t actually know if Dimitra gardens, but for some reason, I’ve always imagined her doing that.

Cassandra followed Criss up a sidewalk lined by some lovely purple flowers. She carefully carried the dry cleaning. Nervous butterflies broke in her stomach. Criss fussed with his hair for a few seconds before knocking sharply on the door.

“Come in!” a woman called. He opened the door and jerked his head in a gesture for Cassandra to follow. She crept into the house. A short woman with a face that looked like she’d seen many things she wished she hadn’t appeared. She was drying her hands on an apron.
“Christopher!”

“Hi, Mom.” He said brightly. The woman bounced across the room and threw her arms around her son’s neck. She was quite a bit shorter than he was; it was more or less comical to see.
“Brought your dry cleaning and groceries.”

“And something else I see. Come here, dear.” She gestured toward Cassandra, who was hovering by the door. She crept closer, holding out the dry cleaning. Criss took it from her, and his mother slid her hands into Cassandra’s.
“You’re like ice,” she murmured.

“Um, I guess I’m always like that when I meet someone new.” She smiled nervously.

“I’m Christopher’s mother, Dimitra.”

“I’m Cassandra, Criss’ personal assistant.”

“You’re the girl that’s causing the stir between all my sons then.” Dimitra smiled. The younger girl’s cheeks went pink and she shrugged uncomfortably. Even Criss cleared his throat at that.

“I don’t mean to cause trouble, I mean---.” She was stopped before she could go off on one of her anxious babblings.

“You’re much too thin.” Dimitra clucked her tongue as she gripped Cassandra’s chin in her hand. She squinted. “And look at those dark marks under your eyes! Christopher, don’t you let this poor girl get any rest?”

“I just hired her, Mom!” Criss sounded both amused an exasperated.

“Well, I just made a meal, so you both need to come on and sit down. You’re going to clean your plate, missy.” She shook her finger at Cassandra. Dumbfounded, she followed Criss to a dining room table while Dimitra disappeared into the kitchen.

“What just happened here?”

“My mother just decided that she likes you.” Criss smiled.

**

Dimitra dished up plates of chicken and mashed potatoes and peas. She buttered a roll and put it on Cassandra’s plate, and poured her a tall glass of milk. Normally, she didn’t drink milk, but something told her now was not the time to bring that up.

Criss dug in, listening to his mother talk about her garden and various other relatives. Cassandra said nothing, but politely ate, wiping her mouth after each bite. When her plate ran low, Dimitra filled it for her again.

“Oh, you didn’t---.” She began.

“Eat,” Dimitra shook her head. “My son is a slave driver. You’re going to need all the energy you can get.”

“Love you too,” Criss rolled his eyes. Dimitra just laughed and hugged her son around his neck while she filled his glass of milk.

“So, Cassandra, what does your mother do for a living? Do they live around here?”

“Um,” Cassandra began coughing on a bite of her roll. She took a drink of her milk. Dimitra looked worried, half standing up, ready to go and help the girl. But there was something in the way that Criss was looking at her, something in his eyes that made her worry that perhaps he had caught the scent of her little secret.

“Are you quite all right?”

“I’m fine, sorry.” Cassandra smiled, glancing again at her employer. He cocked his head to the side ever so slightly before turning back to his plate.

“Mom, how’s your cousin doing?”

Clever man. Changing the subject. Something told her that he’d be asking her about it later, though.