31Even at home, Nikos Petrakis, or “Nick”, as he preferred to be called, always wore a dark gray or navy pinstriped suit with a maroon silk handkerchief stuffed in the breast pocket, although when he watched television or listened to music he exchanged his jacket in favor of a cashmere cardigan in navy, tan, or gray. His shirts were white, their collars starched, and his tie was either polka dots or stripes. He was tall and thin. His hands were small, with long delicate fingers that obviously had never labored. His nails were manicured weekly. He spoke Athenian Greek like Yiannis but, from the shape of his head to the lankiness of his torso, he was nothing like his younger brother. Yiannis was a blonde, Nick had black hair flecked with gray. Yiannis’ eyes were brown, Nick’s were blue. Yian
