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Until then, I’ve decided to keep a close eye on her. I’d told everyone that they aren’t to touch her cookies, and ordered Tatiana to increase the apple supply in the kitchen, as apples seem to be her go-to craving. I, of course, went back on the no-eating-Ruby’s-cookies threat, after she’d spent the afternoon baking for everyone. I’ve also instructed the house to ensure that she doesn’t indulge in any liquor of any sort.
Still, if she doesn’t figure it out on her own soon, I’m going to have to tell her. She will need to see a doctor, sooner rather than later.
I suspect she will be around four and six weeks pregnant when we travel to America, as I need to oversee the construction of Volk Vault Bank, and insert myself in both the political and underground worlds of America. My intention had been to be there for around six months—to make America, like Ilya and Kane had, my second home. But I am unsure if I wish my child to born on American soil.
I listen to the ring, and then, “Mr. Volkov, wonderful to hear from you.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Paige.”
She giggles, a chipper, friendly sound. “Brooklyn, please, Mr. Volkov.”
I don’t give her permission to use my first name. I rarely do that, and instead, get right down to business. “Have you been able to find a house fitting my requirements?”
“I believe I have.” She sounds overjoyed with excitement. This is well and truly her passion. “I have a two-story, five-bedroom, four bath, colonial style-ish house. Don’t worry, it’s not a tall box like some of them can be.”
I don’t confess that I don’t know what a colonial style house is.
Brooklyn continues, “There are big windows and the squareness of most colonials has been broken up by a big old, covered wraparound porch that gives it an almost farmhouse appeal, and a couple turret-like features. One is in the kitchen to feature the most charming breakfast nook, Mr. Volkov, really, it’s a sight. And the other spans both stories on the opposite end of the house, so you get it in the sitting room, and you get it again, vaulted this time, in the master suite. Both turrets overlook the front yard, but the master takes the entire right side of the upper floor. Big windows let in lots of natural light, and there’s a perfect space for a king-sized bed on the wall facing north. I don’t know if you know this, but there are some who believe you should always set the head of your bed on a wall facing north.”
Christ, this woman likes to talk. “What about the back of the house. What does that face?”
“Oh, this is the best part!” Her chirpiness continues. “As per your request, the gated backyard and the house’s wraparound porch overlook a lush forest of green, and with just a short walk along the path in the trees, you get to a lazily flowing river, with again, more walking trails. And it all faces west, so your wife will have her sunsets each night on the porch.” She gives a high-pitched sound of excitement. “Mr. Volkov, the porch is wide, and it’s covered, so your wife will be able to sit out even in the rain.”
“What’s the drawback?” There is always a drawback.
“It’s older than you said you’d like in your email. Other than that, it has everything.”
“Has it been updated?”
“The electrical and plumbing was redone in twenty-eighteen. Most of the interior has also been updated, although with a flare for the charm of old. Oh, and the detached four-car garage also has a living space above, as per your request that there either be a second living space, or land for one to be built, I genuinely feel this house is the one for you.”
I’m not sure what she means by charm of old, but say, “Send me the listing.”
“The listing for this and three other properties is already in your email, Mr. Volkov.”
“Thank you. I will make my decision and let you know.”
“I look forward to hearing from you.”
Disconnecting, I open my email and click the latest from Brooklyn. Ilya has used her once before, before she’d met her now, husband, and moved to Oregon from New York. From what I know of people from New York, Brooklyn is entirely too chipper.
I find the first house quickly and begin flipping through pictures. It’s not my style, but it’s the definition of quaint, country charm. Something one could make themselves feel at home in. Ruby will love it. I’ve already decided that this is the house when I see the garden of roses in the backyard. The pictures were taken from an earlier summer, but the lush blooms and pretty white painted old wood bench swing are the nail in the coffin.
I don’t even look at the other listings as I lift my phone and hit Brooklyn’s contact.
“Mr. Volkov, hello.”
“Please secure the purchase of the colonial.”
“That was fast, you didn’t like the other properties?”
“I didn’t look. The colonial is perfect, Brooklyn, see that it is mine.”
“I will do, Sir.”
“I’m serious, Brooklyn. I don’t care if there is a bidding war. I want that house at all costs, and I will pay cash.”
I can hear the spread of a wide smile. “Consider it done.”
