“Maybe it’s something they only did when they were in the States,” I suggested.
Katarina shrugged, then rubbed her hands together. “I can’t wait to see what else is down there.”
15
BEACON
“Should we have breakfast here before we head to the main camp?” Bishop asked.
“I guarantee you Anna has been cooking since dawn. Not that I don’t enjoy your cooking.”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and kissed my temple. “No offense taken. Let’s go.”
As I’d anticipated, Anna and Polina were in the kitchen in their usual spots when we came in.
Anna looked over her shoulder from where she stood at the stove. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Is it? We never celebrated,” I said. “Not that I remember anyway.”
“We did, but it’s been many years.” She pointed her wooden spoon at the chairs. “Sit. Both of you and have breakfast.”
Bishop pulled one out, and I took the chair across from Polina. When I leaned over and kissed her cheek, she patted my hand.
“It was when you were very young,” Anna continued. She cracked two eggs into the bowl she’d been stirring.
“Why did we stop?”
“Many reasons.” She sighed. “When we moved to Switzerland, things were very hard. We had lost Amelia and her husband. And your parents.” She poured two cups of coffee and set them in front of Bishop and me. “Then Mikhail. Then Horatio. There wasn’t much to celebrate. And it isn’t celebrated there the way it is here. So we didn’t.”
Polina rotated her cup in her fingers but said nothing.
“And now?” I asked.
Anna brought her own plate to the chair across from Bishop. “Now, there are so many people here who should be home with their families and aren’t. Polina and I thought it might be nice.” She glanced at all of us. “So. Happy Thanksgiving.”
Bishop raised his mug. “Happy Thanksgiving, Anna.”
When we finished, Bishop pushed his chair out. “Anna, where’s the cellar? I’ll get those boxes for you.”
She wipedher hands on her apron and waved for us to follow. The entrance to the cellar was near the kitchen door that Bishop and I used to come and go every day. It was made of heavy wood with an iron latch. Anna lifted it and reached inside. “The light switch is on the right. Be careful. The stairs are narrow.”
I gripped the railing and took the steps carefully. Bishop was already at the base and steadied me on the last one.
Shelves holding labeled boxes ran the length of the south wall. I worked one end while Bishop scanned for Anna’s Thanksgiving labels. I opened one marked Christmas near where I was standing and found glass ornaments in tissue paper and a string of lights coiled on a wooden spool.
“I think I might remember this.” I held up a small painted bird on a wire hook. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”
Bishop walked over to where I stood, and I handed it to him. “This is cool. They definitely don’t make decorations like this anymore.”
He gave it back, and I returned it to the box.
“Found them.” Bishop lifted the first container and set it on the floor. “I’ll need to make a couple of trips.”
I stepped aside to give him space and worked farther along the shelf and noticed something stuck behind the storage boxes.
“Oh my God.” I gasped when I pulled a journal out. “Bishop. Look at this.”
He set what he had in his hands down. “That’s identical to the one you salvaged from the safe.”
