Anthesteria
If asked what the greatest joy in his life was, Dr. Lionel Penn would not hesitate to reply that it was being at sea on his boat. Coming in a close second would be eating a good meal. Although he would not classify himself as a gourmand, since he enjoyed a tasty, well-cooked hamburger, a chili dog and a bowl of New England clam chowder every bit as much as a gourmet chef's best example of culinary skills, he did consider himself a connoisseur of good-tasting food. Still a bachelor in his mid-thirties, the psychiatrist had both the time and the financial resources to eat in many of the best restaurants in the Northeast.
Lionel's preference in food was not limited to any specific cuisine. He enjoyed Italian ristorantes, French cafés, Irish pubs, Japanese sushi bars, Mexican cantinas, German biergartens, Brazilian steakhouses and American diners. One of his favorite restaurants was a Greek taverna located on Martha's Vineyard. At the height of the summer tourist season, it was hard to find a table; but during the autumn and spring months, he would often sail to the island just to enjoy a meal at the House of Athens.
One late September day, wanting to take advantage of what might be the end of Indian summer and the last warm, sunny day before the chilly fall weather set in, Lionel boarded his boat and set a course for the Vineyard. Like a seasoned sailor, he stood tall and straight at the helm as his boat passed Provincetown at the northern tip of Cape Cod. He deliberately limited the day's food intake to coffee in anticipation of stuffing himself with Stavros's cooking.
The doctor's stomach growled and his mouth watered as he pictured the meal that awaited him. He would start with stuffed grape leaves and a Greek salad. The appetizers would be followed by souvlaki accompanied by tzataiki and roasted Mediterranean vegetables. If he still had room in his stomach, he would top off his meal with a cup of traditional Greek coffee and a serving of baklava.
"Opa!" he shouted, resisting the urge to break out in a Kalamatiano dance à la Zorba the Greek.
It was close to his usual dinner time when Lionel sighted the East Chop Light. Humming a Greek folk tune, he steered his boat into Oak Bluffs Harbor. Once his vessel was moored at the marina, still humming, he briskly walked toward Kennebec Avenue. However, as he approached the restaurant, he was crestfallen to see its windows boarded up and the name above the door painted over.
The coffee shop directly across the street from the former Greek taverna was one of the few businesses that remained open after Labor Day. The doctor went inside to speak to the owner.
"What happened to the House of Athens?" he asked after exchanging the usual pleasantries.
"It's gone. Stavros closed the place up not long after the Fourth of July."
Lionel shook his head in disbelief.
"I don't understand it. Every time I've been to the island, that place was packed."
"He didn't move for lack of business; that's for sure," the shopkeeper explained as he prepared a shot of espresso for the psychiatrist. "Quite the contrary. I heard Stavros was doing so well he decided to invest his money and open a place in Boston."
Although keenly disappointed that his dinner plans had to be changed, Lionel saw the move as good news. With the House of Athens only a half hour drive from Puritan Falls, he would soon be able to frequent the restaurant on a regular basis.
Dr. Penn talked with the owner of the coffee shop for another twenty minutes before heading over to a seafood restaurant on Circuit Avenue, one block west of Kennebec. The lobster dinner was undeniably delicious; however, he had been in the mood for a Greek repast and thus found the substitute sadly disappointing.
* * *
Mid-morning the following Monday, Lionel was sitting at his desk, awaiting his next patient who was already ten minutes late, when the intercom buzzed.
"What is it, Judy?" he responded.
"Your eleven o'clock just called. Her car broke down on the way over here, and she needs to reschedule her appointment."
Having some unexpected free time, the doctor decided to search the Internet to see if Stavros had opened his new place in Boston yet. He googled "House of Athens" but could not find a reference to the new location of the restaurant.
Maybe he isn't using the same name, he thought and changed his search criteria, typing in "Stavros Kostas Greek dining Boston."
Although the restaurant had no website, there was a review in The Boston Globe of a new eatery called Anthesteria, owned by a man named Stavros Kostas.
This must be the place, he reasoned.
The reviewer gave the restaurant a glowing report, rating it four stars.
Lionel picked up the phone and dialed Sarah Ryerson's number. The emergency room physician saw his name on her caller ID and smiled.
"Lion," she said, "I was just about to text you. Are we still going to the movies tonight with the McMurtrys?"
"Yes. Why? Do you want to cancel?"
"No way. It's always fun to see a true-crime drama with Shawn. He takes them so seriously. No, I just wanted to say I'd meet you at the Green Man Pub. I have to do some grocery shopping after work, and then I'll head over there from Shop 'N Save."
"Sounds good. I'll see you there around six?"
"Six is fine" Sarah replied.
"Before you go. Are you on duty Saturday night?"
"No. I'm pulling an all-nighter on Friday, but I have Saturday off."
"How'd you like to go to Boston with me?"
"Is it the Red Sox, the Patriots, the Bruins or the Celtics?"
"None of the above. There's a new restaurant I want to try. You like Greek food?"
"Other than olives, I've ever had any."
"Trust me. You'll love it. I'll let you get back to work now. We'll discuss the details later tonight."
When he hung up the phone, Lionel began whistling the same Greek folk song that he had hummed on his excursion to Martha's Vineyard.
* * *
Weather-wise, it was another nice day with clear, sunny skies and temperatures close to seventy degrees. Although he thought it too late in the year to remove the top from his car, Lionel opened the windows as he drove south on Route 1A, the more scenic drive to Boston.
"I'm not one hundred percent sure this is going to be the same fare that I had in Oak Bluffs," he told Sarah who was pulling her hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of her eyes.
"Is it the same chef?"
"I think so. After all, how many people named Stavros Kostas own Greek restaurants in eastern Massachusetts?"
"Don't ask me. For all I know, Stavros Kostas might be the Greek version of John Smith."
"Even if it's not the same man, the place got rave reviews from the Globe."
"I'll probably just get a salad anyway," Sarah said, preferring to order something familiar.
"No way!" Lionel objected. "You've got to try the traditional Greek cuisine."
"All right. If you insist. What's the name of this place?"
"Anthesteria."
"That's an odd name."
"It refers to a festival in honor of Dionysus, held around the time of the February or March full moon. It celebrates the beginning of spring and the maturing of the wine from the previous year's vintage. It's a time of feasting—"
"—and drinking?" Sarah added with a laugh. "Is that why you asked me to come along? Am I to be your designated driver?"
Lionel pretended to take offense at her question.
"When have you ever known me to drink to excess, much less get behind the wheel in an inebriated state?"
"Never," the attractive doctor conceded.
"Besides, I think I might suffer from methyphobia."
"Should I even ask what that is?"
"It's a fear of alcohol, not to be confused with dipsophobia, the fear of drinking; oenophobia, the fear of wine; or zythophobia, the fear of beer."
"Fear of beer? Really? I'm glad I'm an M.D. and not a psychiatrist. I'd go crazy trying to remember the names of all those phobias."
There was a brief lull in the conversation as the two doctors enjoyed the view of the Atlantic around the area of Revere Beach.
"You've got to meet Stavros and Delia, his wife," Lionel said, finally breaking the comfortable silence. "What a wonderful couple."
"Good people, huh?"
"The best. And they're devoted to one another. You can tell just by the way Stavros looks at her that he and Delia are soul mates."
Sarah was amused by Lionel's comments. He had never struck her as a man who believed in love at first sight, happily ever after or soul mates.
"My, my, Dr. Penn. Aren't you the romantic!"
"I'm usually not," he confessed. "But in the case of Stavros and Delia, I admit I find it heartwarming that two people of their years are still so happily married."
* * *
Leaving the MG at a public parking lot, Lionel and Sarah took to the streets of Boston to find the restaurant. Although they followed the directions given on the Internet, their search led them in circles.
"It's got to be around here someplace!" Lionel exclaimed in frustration.
Sarah took out her phone, and with the help of her GPS system, finally located Anthesteria at the end of a blind alley.
"My hat's off to modern technology. I never would have known this was a street," the psychiatrist said.
As they approached the front door, the sound of music and laughter emerging from the building attested to the taverna's popularity. Not only was every seat taken, but there was a forty-minute wait for a table. Normally, Lionel would have opted to find another place to eat, but he thought Stavros's cooking was well worth the wait.
Not long after they were seated, a waitress appeared to take their order.
"Would you tell Mr. Kostas that Lionel Penn has tracked him down from Oak Bluffs?" he asked as he handed his menu to the young woman.
Several minutes later the restaurant's owner came from the kitchen to personally welcome him.
"Ah, Dr. Penn. What a pleasant surprise!"
While introducing Sarah to Stavros, Lionel kept a close eye on the chef's face. As a psychiatrist, he often had to gage people's emotional state by their expressions. Although the chef was smiling, there was a look of profound sadness in his eyes.
"And where is Delia tonight? I didn't see her when we came in. Don't tell me you left her behind at the Vineyard?"
"She's not here."
Those three words were spoken in a voice void of emotion, yet both doctors could sense a discomfort in the speaker. His unease was emphasized when he immediately changed the subject.
"You like the new place, my friend?" Stavros asked Lionel.
"Yes, very much, and I'm sure the food is every bit as good as it was in the House of Athens."
"Better, I hope. Now, I go back into the kitchen, and I cook you up something special."
Lionel frowned after the chef departed.
"That was odd," he said. "It was as though he didn't want to talk about his wife."
"Maybe their marriage isn't so perfect after all," Sarah suggested. "I've seen so many couples claim they were soul mates, that they never fought or that they would stick together through thick and thin, and the next thing you know, they're getting divorced."
"Or maybe she's home in bed with a headache," Lionel argued, refusing to believe the couple were having marital difficulties.
Once the food arrived, however, the psychiatrist put both the chef and his wife out of his mind and enjoyed the meal that had brought him to Boston.
* * *
The elaborate holiday light display in the town common often brings visitors to Puritan Falls at Christmas time. Even the shops along Essex and Gloucester Streets were bedecked in wreaths, lights and garland. On December 10, Lionel and Sarah attended the annual tree lighting ceremony.
Shannon Devlin, proprietor of the Green Man Pub, had set up a stall to sell hot chocolate, mulled apple cider and eggnog. Along with the seasonal beverages, she offered freshly baked gingerbread, cinnamon donuts and pumpkin pie. Lionel, never one to resist Shannon's pies, found a spot on line in front of the refreshment stand.
The man in front of him, not a resident of Puritan Falls, turned and nodded his head in greeting.
"You look familiar," the psychiatrist announced. "Have we met before?"
"I think so," replied the puzzled stranger, who seemed to recognize Lionel's face. "Have you ever been to Martha's Vineyard?"
Mention of the island jolted the doctor's memory.
"You own the coffee shop on Kennebec Avenue."
"That's right, and you were there in September. You asked me about the Greek restaurant that used to be across the street."
"That was me."
"I don't suppose you ever found Stavros's new place in Boston?"
"As a matter of fact, I did. It's no longer the House of Athens; it's Anthesteria. After I found it online, my friend and I drove down there. The name may have changed, but the food hasn't. It was delicious."
"I'm glad to hear that," the islander said. "You know, I heard a rumor not too long ago that Stavros's wife died back in July. I hope it wasn't true."
"Delia wasn't at the restaurant the night I ate there, but when I asked her husband about here, he didn't say anything to me."
"I'm sure Stavros would have told you if something had happened to her. Besides, there was nothing in the paper. Trust me, at my age I read the obituaries every day."
* * *
By the first of March, Sarah Ryerson was ready to put winter behind her and was looking forward to spring. She was tired of bundling up in a heavy coat, hat, gloves and boots every time she left her house.
"Honestly, if we get one more inch of snow, I just might pack all my belongings and head south to Florida!" she exclaimed as she and Lionel scraped the ice off the windshield of her Subaru Outback.
"That sounds like a wonderful idea. I could enjoy my boat four seasons out of the year instead of three."
Despite the inclement weather, neither one of them would ever seriously consider leaving the small New England village. They were as much a part of Puritan Falls as the lighthouse at the end of Atlantic Avenue or the statue of Founder Stephen Prescott in the Common.
"You know what we need?" Sarah asked when she got behind the wheel of her station wagon.
"Other than warmer temperatures?" Lionel teased, shivering, while as waited for the vehicle to heat up.
"I was thinking more along the lines of a night on the town."
"Do you want to go down to New York? We can have dinner, see a Broadway show and come back the next day. Or, better yet, we can drive down on a Friday afternoon and spend the whole weekend."
"I was thinking of something a little closer, like Boston. There must be something we can do this time of year: a museum or a concert."
They decided to see a musical play at the Boston Opera House. Through one of Lionel's patients who worked at the mayor's office, they were able to get tickets for the Saturday matinee on short notice. Since Sarah was off-duty the entire weekend, they decided to make a full day of their trip. They drove into the city in the morning to do some shopping, ate lunch at Quincy Market and saw the play in the afternoon. It was already getting dark when the show ended.
"Where do you feel like eating?" Sarah asked as they left the Opera House and headed toward her car. "You bought the tickets, so dinner is on me. How about Top of the Hub?"
"On a Saturday night? It's bound to be packed with tourists."
"What about that Greek place we went to then? What was the name of it?"
"Anthesteria," Lionel replied, a smile immediately appearing on his ruggedly handsome face. "That will be crowded, too, no doubt; but since we don't have to be home by any special time ...."
"Do you remember how to get there?"
"Why don't we leave your car here and take a taxi?"
Although the cab driver was able to find the neighborhood with no difficulty, he was not familiar with the name of the street on which Anthesteria was located.
"Just leave us off here," Lionel said, knowing they were in the general vicinity. "We'll find it."
They soon located the alley and approached the entrance of the restaurant.
"It doesn't look like it's open," Sarah observed. "The sign isn't lit."
Lionel peered through the window.
"There are people inside."
He then tried the front door, which was unlocked.
"It's open."
The two doctors walked inside the restaurant and saw roughly a dozen people seated at tables. There was soft music playing, but the only illumination was from lit candles on the tables. No hostess was on duty, and there were no servers in sight.
"Are you sure it's open?" Sarah asked.
Just then Stavros Kostas came out of the kitchen carrying a tray full of food. When he saw Lionel standing in front of the door, he put down the tray and quickly went to speak to them.
"Dr. Penn, what a surprise!" he cried, his face indicating that it was not a welcome one.
"Good to see you again, Stavros. You remember Dr. Ryerson, don't you?"
"Yes, of course. I could never forget such a pretty face. You've come at a bad time, I'm afraid."
"Oh?"
"This is a ... a private party," the chef explained uneasily.
"Too bad," Lionel said. "You do have a number of empty tables, though. We wouldn't disturb anyone. We'd just quietly eat our meal and leave. No one would even know we're there."
Perspiration beaded up on Stavros's forehead, and Lionel regretted putting him on the spot.
"I suppose I could seat you at a table in the back."
"Thank you, my friend. I really appreciate this," Lionel declared, beaming like a schoolboy.
With the help of the flashlight app on Sarah's cell phone, they found their way to a corner table, far from the other diners.
"I don't need a menu," the psychiatrist said. "I know what I want."
"The usual? And for you, Dr. Ryerson?"
"I'll have the same."
"I'll be right back with your food," Stavros announced before disappearing into the kitchen.
"Under most circumstances a candlelit dinner is romantic," Sarah said. "But tonight it seems kind of creepy."
Lionel peered through the darkness in the direction of the other diners, but all he could see were flickering lights and the backs of people's heads.
"I don't see anyone else working. I hope poor Stavros isn't cooking and waiting tables by himself."
In what seemed like only a matter of a few minutes, the chef was back with their dinner.
"That was fast!" Sarah exclaimed.
"Everything is still good and hot, so be careful you don't burn yourselves," Stavros warned and then hurried back to his cooking.
"This sauce is delicious!" Sarah exclaimed. "What is it called?"
"Tzataiki. It's made with yogurt, cucumber, garlic, olive oil and dill."
They both spoke in voices barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the eerie atmosphere that seemed to permeate the room. Aside from the soft music that played and the sounds from the kitchen, there was little noise in the restaurant.
"I wonder exactly what kind of party they're having here tonight," Lionel said after finishing his entrée. "I've seen livelier crowds at funerals."
As he looked out at the heads of the other diners, he spotted a woman sitting alone at a table for two. Even in the dim light, there was something about her hairstyle he found familiar.
"Is that ...?" he mumbled to himself.
"Did you say something?"
"I think that's Delia."
As Lionel rose from his seat, Sarah grabbed his arm.
"You told Stavros we wouldn't bother anyone."
"I'm just going to say hello to her."
He gingerly walked across the murky room, careful not to trip over a chair leg or bump into a table. When he was a foot away from the woman, he softly called her name.
"Delia? Is that you?"
She didn't turn in his direction; perhaps she hadn't heard him. He walked in front of the table and looked down at her face.
Unable to bear the terrifying sight of Delia's glazed, lifeless, doll-like eyes and rigid features frozen in death, Lionel quickly turned his head and looked away. In the flickering light of the candles, he saw the zombie-like faces of the other customers. Not one of them was alive!
Somehow, he made his way across the room back to the table where Sarah was sitting.
"Lion, are you all right?" she inquired, concerned by his ashen, sickly appearance.
"Let's get out of here—now!"
"What on earth is wrong?"
The psychiatrist didn't answer. He merely reached in his jacket pocket for his wallet, removed a few twenty-dollar bills and left them on the table.
* * *
There was none of their usual good-natured banter on the drive back to Puritan Falls. Sarah did not ask any questions, and the psychiatrist did not volunteer any explanations. For thirty minutes the only sounds in the car were the songs on Sarah's iPod and the steady hum of the Subaru's heating fan. It was not until they returned to Puritan Falls that Lionel finally spoke.
"I need a drink. Feel like stopping at the Green Man?"
"Sure."
The silence resumed until they got out of the car and were walking across the parking lot to the pub's entrance. Once on familiar soil, Lionel finally found the courage to speak.
"They were dead—all except for Stavros."
Sarah didn't know how to respond. She was a medical doctor, not a psychiatrist.
"Let's go inside. It's freezing out here," she finally said.
"Lion. Sarah," Shannon called to them. "What brings you here at this time of night?"
Shannon Devlin was seated at the bar with Martha Prescott, the former television hostess known as Belladonna Nightshade. The two of them were making last minute plans for a St. Patrick's Day celebration.
"We just got back from Boston, and Lion suggested we stop for a drink," Sarah answered.
"Are you feeling okay?" Shannon asked the psychiatrist after he downed his shot in one swallow. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"Only one ghost? I've seen an entire restaurant full of them!"
It was left up to Sarah to describe the events of the evening.
"Where was this?" Shannon asked.
"A Greek restaurant called Anthesteria."
"That explains it," Martha announced as though she had solved one of Shawn McMurtry's true-crime mysteries.
"What does?" Lionel asked, rapidly recovering from the ordeal—whether as a result of the alcohol or the strange mind-numbing effect Puritan Falls had on its residents.
"This is the right time of the year for the ancient festival. You have heard of Anthesteria, haven't you?"
"Yeah. It's a celebration in honor of Dionysus. What has that got to do with my seeing ghosts?"
"It's also the time of year when people invite the spirits of their family and ancestors into their homes. It's customary to feed them before they disappear for another year."
Although not much of a drinker, Lionel ordered a second shot, thankful that Sarah was driving him home. He downed half of it, and stared at the polished surface of the bar.
"I heard a rumor that Delia died back in July," he mused, "which would be around the time Stavros closed his place on Martha's Vineyard."
"That would no doubt account for the name change when he opened his new restaurant," Sarah suggested. "Anthesteria was probably meant to be a place to offer his wife's spirit shelter and food during the annual festival, a place where she would always be welcomed."
"I told you they were soul mates," Lionel said before finishing the last of his drink. "Even death hasn't been able to part them."
"Want another drink?" Shannon asked.
"No. It's been a long day. I think I'd like to just go home and get some sleep."
By the following morning, not only had Sarah and Lionel all but forgotten about their encounter with the dead the previous evening, but Shannon and Martha had put the conversation concerning the events out of their minds as well. Yet despite, his blissful ignorance, it would be many years before Dr. Lionel Penn had a craving for Greek food again.
Like Lionel Penn, Salem likes all cuisines. Whenever we eat Greek food, however, I can't keep him away from the tzataiki.
