"Did Richard introduce you?"Viktoria asks.
"No, we just...started talking.I didn't even know they were brothers until Richard came over."
The weight of the memory catches me off guard.
Why am I fixating on a brief encounter from two years ago?
It's just the stress, I decide.The constant proximity to Callum now, the pressure of both the viral crisis and hiding my credential deception.
Nothing more complicated than that.
Before I can pursue this unsettling train of thought, we hear movement from upstairs—the creaking of floorboards, then shuffling steps on the stairs.
"Mom's up from her nap," Viktoria notes.
Our mother appears in the doorway, sleep-rumpled but bright-eyed.
At sixty-eight, Nadine Peters—AKA Nadine Petrosian—remains a force of nature despite the arthritis that has slightly twisted her once-nimble fingers.
"Girls!You're cooking?"she exclaims, sounding pleased but slightly confused."I thought I was making dinner."
"You needed rest," I say, the response as familiar as breathing."The plumber said the noise from the fans might keep you up, so I thought I'd get dinner started."
She approaches, examining my work with a practiced eye."Your dolma looks good.But more salt in the filling, I think."
"Yes, Mom," I say, suppressing a smile.Some things never change, no matter how old I get.
She peers over Viktoria's shoulder at the laptop screen."Still working on the computer problem?Did you try turning it off and on again?"
Viktoria and I exchange amused glances."Different kind of computer problem, Mom," Viktoria explains patiently."We're strengthening Karina's professional background so her boss doesn't discover the...creative portions."
"Ah, the lying resume.”My mother nods."For the handsome Scottish man."
"He's my boss," I correct, returning to my cooking."And I didn't exactly lie.I just...streamlined certain facts."
"Streamlined," she repeats, with the exact inflection Viktoria had used for "enhanced.""This is what they teach in American business school?"
"I didn't go to business school, Mom," I remind her."That's sort of the point."
"Pfft.School."She waves me off."You learned more taking care of yourself and your sisters when your father left than any school could teach.That's the resume they should see."
The simple truth of her words catches me in the chest, a pang I push aside as I've done countless times before.
There's no point dwelling on roads not taken.
"Did you sleep okay?"I ask, changing the subject."The dehumidifiers are so loud."
"Was fine.Dr.Finnegan suggested earplugs."She busies herself filling the kettle."Very thoughtful man, the doctor."
Viktoria's eyelids flutter."Dr.Finnegan suggested earplugs?When exactly did you discuss your sleeping habits with your arthritis specialist?"
My mother coughs lightly."He called.To check on the water damage.He's concerned about mold affecting my lungs."
"How considerate," I say slowly."And how did he know about the water damage in the first place?"
"I told him at my appointment yesterday."She sets the kettle on the stove with deliberate focus."He asked how I was, like doctors do."
"Mmm.And does he ask all his patients for their home phone numbers?"
