His coat remained on, only showing the top of his cashmere sweater. A turtleneck, of course.
A part of me wanted to know how he could afford this place, but the other part didn’t. This was either a very extravagant way for him to try and impress me, or a sign that warehouse managers were far better off than I thought. A lot of people moved to private businesses when the infrastructure destroyed the public sector, but he looked like he’d always been comfortable.
I didn’t want to be rude by looking at the prices, but found I couldn’t even do that because there were no menus on the table at all.
“Is there anything you don’t care to eat?” Vitali asked, steepling his hands. He was clearly aware of my eyes dashing for the specials board. At least one of us was amused by it.
“I don’t likesolyanka,” I said, and waited for God to smite me right out of being Russian by admitting it.
“Mhm.”
The young, beautiful server came over and examined me with dark, doe-like eyes. Her delicate hands held no paper or pen. Instead of asking for our drink order, she placed a bottle of champagne and two crystal glasses on the table.
“Thank you, Nastinka,” he said. “Could you bring us the oysters and the crab mimosa salad to start?”
Oh, so he did know how toask.
Nastinka.
“I thought you didn’t drink?” I asked as he reached for the champagne.
Somewhere, a woman’s high-pitched laugh tried very hard to convince her date he was funny.
“Only with the right company—and on special occasions. To you.” He raised the glass. I smiled, and the delicate clink began the evening that started so beautifully, and would end so… memorably. He was right about that; I’d never forget it.
“Have you lived in Kurov all your life?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I spent time in New Zealand.”
I leaned forward, immediately interested. “For work?”
“No.” His brows furrowed, and some internal battle was fought and lost in the span of a champagne-warmed breath. “My sister and I… our parents died nine years ago. She was lucky enough to be adopted; it’s easy for infants to get placed. Not so much for me, I was too old, but fate intervenes in ways we cannot predict.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your parents.”
“It’s alright, Katya. That is in the past.”
“Do you get to see her often?”
Again, he shook his head, absently fingering the glass stem. “She went to the States. New York. We write, but there is littleopportunity for me to travel so far away.”
“Because of ‘business?’”
“Because of my business,” he agreed.
“Why did you return? I’ve heard such wonderful things about New Zealand.” I didn’t, but foreign countries were fascinating in the same way books you haven’t read are fascinating.
Again, that hesitancy. Vitali didn’t seem eager to talk about himself, and it took visible effort to do so. I was grateful; clearly, it wasn’t a gift given lightly. My decency urged me to switch the subject, but my curiosity quickly suffocated it.
“I love my country,” he uttered, and gazed at me with those mesmerizing eyes. This time, the sadness in them felt real. “I realized I did not want to leave Russia. You go where the heart is, so I returned. And yourself?”
“Kurov has always been home. I’ve never left.” I sighed then said wistfully, “Did have the opportunity in university with my ballet troop. They went to France. But Mama couldn’t afford it and I wasn’t working yet.”
The server returned with a set of plates balanced on her arms in a way that would impress a circus director. I peered at her as she floated around us setting up the dinnerware. No nametag. So, he must have come here often enough to know her name.
Interesting.
Nastia. What afunname.
