Penelope finally broke the silence and asked the driver to bring her bag from the taxi. The sitting room was comfortable to the eye, with its deep burgundy walls and handmade Persian carpet dominating the floor. The chandelier above the table was handhammered copper and gold with twelve glass cups holding short beeswax candles. The floorto-ceiling windows were draped with burgundy velvet curtains. They were held together on each side by ropes and tassels of gold.
On the east side of the dining room wall hung a large icon of Christ holding the Bible, a gift from the Abbot of St. Catherine's Monastery in the Egyptian Sinai Desert. It was a copy of the original in the monastery's cathedral, the oldest image of Christ in existence, dating back to A.D. 300. The Byzantine Empire, even though lost to the Ottoman Turks long ago, was definitely alive in its full glory inside this room.
Father Agathangelos sat at the head of the table. He took off his black stovepipe hat and placed it on the table, then he re-buttoned the three upper buttons of his rasso, as in his haste and sleepiness he had buttoned them incorrectly before. Puzzled as to the nature of Penelope's visit at this unusual hour, he had a worried and extremely tired look on his face. The darkness under his eyes was pronounced, as he sat stroking his beard.
A faint smile was on Penelope's face, although her exhausted eyes were wet with tears. A sense of gratitude overwhelmed her as she sat there, breathing heavily. Her hand clenched tightly on her cane, and her eyes did not leave Nikolas's face for a second.
The taxi driver returned with Penelope's bag and placed it on the table. She thanked him and asked him to sit. He quietly sat across from Theodoros. Everyone now focused their gaze on Penelope.
She opened her large bag and rummaged through it, searching for something. An icon of Christ and the Virgin Mary were first. She kissed them and placed them on the table. A picture the size of a postcard was next. The hovering taxi driver, looking eagerly over her shoulder, exclaimed, "My God, he looks just like him!" He pointed at Theodoros. "Who is this man?"
"This is my son Nikolas, gentlemen." A picture of Anna came next. "This is the woman my son was going to marry. It was taken when she was twenty. It says so here on the back," she said, turning the picture over. "But then he went missing in action and was presumed dead during the Battle of Crete." The priest moved closer and sat between Penelope and Theodoros. "Another picture of Anna right before she became a nun years later."