They were checking the boat schedule to Delos, the holy island of the ancient Greeks, when laughter distracted Nancy. She looked up to see Bess and Zoe posing for a roving photographer.

“Wait!” Zoe laughed, rubbing water out of her eyes.

After arranging her slick, wet hair on one shoulder, Bess moved closer to Zoe and flashed the dark-haired photographer a grin. “Okay, shoot,” Bess told him.

As soon as the photographer handed the instant photo to Bess, she ran over to Nancy and Mick. “You guys have to get your picture taken, too,” Bess insisted, waving the developing photo at them. “My treat.” She knelt down on her beach towel and reached into her tote bag for money.

“Such a beautiful couple,” the photographer said, focusing his camera on Nancy and Mick.

Mick slipped his arm around Nancy and mugged for the camera. “Say feta,” he teased, using the Greek word for goat cheese.

Once the photographer had snapped their picture, Bess paid and thanked him, carefully saying, “Evcharistó.”

“Parakaló . . . you’re welcome,” answered the photographer. Nancy guessed that he was in his early twenties. The warm breeze ruffled his curly black hair and crisp white shirt. There was an appreciative look on his angular face as he gazed at Bess. He definitely seemed interested in her.

“Looks like romance is in the air,” Nancy whispered to Mick.

“That’s no surprise,” he answered with a knowing grin. “Bess has managed to charm half of Europe.”

“It’s a pleasure to photograph such beautiful people, even if it is my job,” the photographer told Bess, lingering by Nancy’s towel. “I’m Dimitri Zorzis, the best photographer on Mykonos. I have a studio in Chora, where I do much better work than this.” He gestured at the photos, which were now becoming clear.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Bess said, studying the picture of Zoe and her. “This is pretty good.”