We arrive in front of a house that’s so big it looks like a government building. Tall cement walls surround the property. Security cameras watch us park. An armed man comes to the gate and opens it.
He leads us to the front door and opens it for us.
When we step inside, it’s like being in a museum. The ceiling is three stories high. In every direction, there are paintings and sculptures, marble tile, and hand-woven rugs. In the large room to our right, there’s a glossy black piano facing the front windows.
“Hi, Alexei. Natalia,” a soft voice says.
I turn to see Sasha’s wife. Her bobbed hair is as black and glossy as the piano. She wears a dark blue dress with scalloped lace at the top. She’s like a vampire doll.
“Hi, Rachel,” Alexei says, bending down to hug her at her beckoning.
She hugs me too, and her perfume is like flowers in a cemetery. Why this smells excellent, I don’t know, but it does.
“Come in the kitchen. Do you want coffee? Or a drink?”
“Tea?” Alexei says.
“Oh, perfect. That’s what I’m going to have. I just put the kettle on.”
A soft noise, like a cloth rubbing skin, causes me to turn. Alexei’s sinister-looking brother is right behind me, emerging from the shadows. I barely manage not to gasp. Was he there all along? I think the faint sound may have been his shoes on the rug, but I’m not sure.
“Hello,” I say carefully.
He greets me in Russian and nods for me to continue into the kitchen. No hugs are offered.
The adorable little one is in a baby chair wrestling with some long pasta noodles. When she sees me, she stops eating and cranes her neck to look around me. Upon seeing her father, she smiles and holds out a noodle.
He shakes his head, so she drops the pasta and then holds out her sticky hands. Sasha moves to the counter, and she bangs her little fists in protest.
“Irina,” Rachel admonishes softly. “Daddy’s busy. Eat your noodles.”
The little girl screeches and stretches her arms out, not caring about reprimands. She wants her father’s attention and only this. He takes a wet cloth over to her and wipes her hands, then he tosses it on the counter before liberating her from the chair.
Her mission accomplished, she is happily triumphant, hugging his neck and babbling something to him.
Rachel brings a collection of loose tea in glass jars to the table along with silver scoops and tea infusers. When she spots her daughter’s empty chair, her head turns to find Irina with Sasha near the glass door that looks out into the yard.
“Oh, my gosh,” Rachel whispers, shaking her head. “Who’s the most spoiled little girl in the world?”
In Russian, Sasha murmurs, “What is that?” He points, and the little girl peers out. Then she erupts with excitement. “Yeah, a rabbit. He’s fast.” They track the animal’s progress for a moment. “Gone.” When he turns and sits down, he glances at a steaming cup of coffee on a placemat in front of him. He slides it away. “Not near her.”
I like that he’s this way with his baby daughter. Attentive. Affectionate. Protective. That at least speaks well of him.
Rachel returns his coffee cup to the counter, then brings out a tray of meats, cheeses, fruit, condiments, cream, and liquors. The baby crawls half onto the table to collect the grapes. When she has them in front of her, she feeds some to herself and some to Alexei’s brother.
After a little time of Rachel making small chats with us, Sasha kisses his daughter and hands her over to his wife.
“Fifteen minutes,” he says to Rachel.
The little girl is not pleased to be walked away from her father. Rachel tries to soothe and distract her by saying sweetly, “Irina, want to watch the dancing neebles? I do. Let’s see if they’re on.”
Sasha sits back in his chair.
“Let’s speak Russian so it’s easier for Natalia to understand,” Alexei says.
Sasha nods.
“We left Fenmore abruptly, which—”
