"You know your wife very well, Mr. Ivanovich," the salesman says with genuine admiration.
"I pay attention."
The door to the viewing room opens and a woman in an elegant dress walks in with a little boy around Anya's age. He has dark hair and is wearing a little suit, and the moment he sees Anya his eyes go wide and he stops walking.
He stares at her.
I notice immediately.
"Little boy," I say calmly. "Take your eyes off my princess."
The woman freezes and looks at me, and recognition flickers across her face. "I apologize, Mr. Ivanovich, we didn't mean to intrude."
"Mama," the boy tugs on her dress without looking away from Anya. "She's pretty."
"Sasha, don't stare, it's rude."
"But she's really pretty."
Anya looks at him and then looks at me. "Papa, he's looking at me."
"I know, princess."
"I don't like it."
"Neither do I."
The woman pulls her son back toward the door. "We'll come back another time, I'm so sorry for the interruption."
But Sasha plants his feet and refuses to move. "I want to say hi to her."
"Sasha, we're leaving."
"Just one hi, Mama, please?"
The woman looks at me with an apologetic expression and I sigh.
"One hi," I say. "Then you leave."
Sasha grins and walks over to Anya, stopping a few feet away from her chair.
"Hi," he says. "I'm Sasha."
Anya looks at him with her arms crossed. "So?"
"What's your name?"
Anya glances at me and I give her a small nod.
"Anya," she says.
"That's a pretty name."
"I know."
Sasha shuffles his feet. "Do you want to be friends?"
"No."
