“Are you joining us for breakfast?” Anna asked.
“I already ate, thanks.”
As she set two plates on the table, I caught the look that passed between the two women. Where I expected to see judgment, there wasn’t any. In fact, they appeared amused.
“Get some coffee and sit with us anyway.”
I poured my second cup of the day and sat between them.
Mr. Loxley came in through the same door I had with an armload of firewood and crossed to the hearth without a word. Polina watched him stack it.
“How are you this morning, Julian?” she asked.
“Cold knees and a warm heart, ma’am. You?”
“The same.”
He straightened up and brushed the bark from his sleeves. “Can I bring you anything before I leave?”
“Not a thing. Thank you.”
He nodded at me as he left.
“You look rested,” my grandmother said between bites of egg.
“You know I met Horatio when we were both with SIS. We were so young at the time.” I thought maybe this was part of a conversation that began before I came in, but Anna’s gaze rested on me after she said it.
Babushka turned her teacup in her hands. “He was insufferable that summer.”
“He was not.” Anna looked across the table at her. “He was brilliant, and you know it.”
“He was my brother. I know exactly what he was. Brilliant and insufferable are not mutually exclusive.”
Anna smiled. “I was twenty years old and had been with Her Majesty’s Secret Intelligence Service for six months when they assigned me to his section. Horatio was already running operations. I was meant to support his work by gathering every piece of information I could and turn it into something he could use.”
The work was the part of the story I’d heard before, but my sense was she was headed in a different direction with it today.
“He caught my attention from the first day. He didn’t notice me for months.”
My grandmother covered her grin with her hand.
“It’s true, Polina,” Anna huffed.
“He noticed you.”
I sipped my coffee, waiting for their bickering to escalate. Today, it didn’t.
“Every time he left on a mission, I worried.” She stood and got more coffee for herself, then filled Babushka’s cup without asking.
“The world is different now, Katarina. In those days, SIS didn’t assign field positions to women. Not because we weren’t capable. It’s just how it was, and we didn’t question it.”
“I understand,” I said. I’d often done what was expected of me without challenging it. It was just how it was.
It made me think of Amaryllis. She’d lost both parents at a young age, murdered by the same people who’d killed mine. Her grandparents raised her, and she never knew her family’s history until last year. And yet she chose a career path identical to mine. Was it nature or nurture? Coincidence or legacy?
Anna covered my hand with hers. “We’re proud of you, Katarina,” she said. “Before you were old enough to understand what the work was, we were already proud. But we were also afraid.” She looked at Babushka. “Equally.”
“For a very long time. Still,” my grandmother added.
