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I grab two bottles of water and hand one to Stasia. “I can’t believe how extravagant the wedding is going to be. Polina’s parents must’ve mortgaged their house because they are pulling out all the stops.”
“No, they’re not. Pavel is funding the dog and pony show to keep up appearances. He wasn’t down with the small wedding the Zirkovs planned because it wasn’t flashy enough for his Bratva buddies. Apparently, the criminal elite require a caviar bar and an ice sculpture dispensing vodka.”
I move a stack of shirts off a chair and sit down. “I had no idea. She never said anything.”
“Why would she? I only know because my boss spends all her time gossiping with the other shop owners.”
Hating that our friend’s celebration is gris for the gossip mill, I wrinkle my nose. “Promise me that when we get married, we’ll trade services. I’ll make you a stunning wedding dress, and you can make me the cake of my dreams.”
“Deal.” She sets her water bottle down. “But if your missing papa shows up, we’re sticking him with the full bill.”
“If anyone from Russia makes a surprise appearance, walking to the altar will be the least of my concerns.”
“That statement tells me you’ve had no luck and have reason to believe Inessa’s fantastical tales are true.”
I look down the small hall. “I’ve gone through the last boxes and still don’t know how much was fact and how much was fiction. Whatever made us leave Moscow will remain a mystery, and—”
“What?” Stasia asks, leaning forward.
“I’m ready to stop living in a suspended state of fear and grief.” I cross my legs. “It’s time to quit moving through my day in a fog and accept the boogeyman isn’t real and long-lost relatives aren’t flying in from the Motherland to claim me.”
“I think ignorance is a blessing in this case. Discovering irrefutable proof that you’re the offspring of a rich oligarch with a penchant for cheating and thievery would undoubtedly be problematic.”
“I agree and have decided to leave the whole thing alone.” I straighten a stack of coasters. “I’m even going to embrace thePrincess Diarytheory and allow myself to believe I’m the love child of a king from a small but important Baltic principality.”
“I’m totally down with that, but being a princess is a long shot.”
“Is it my peasant hips?”
“No!” She leans forward. “You’re practically a savant when it comes to redirecting inconvenient questions from the authorities and creating paperwork out of thin air. That skill didn’t develop out of thin air, so clearly, some rich criminal blood is running through your veins.”
“Thatskillhas nothing to do with genetics and everything to do with necessity. Remember how often the teachers asked about my paperwork and Mama’s behavior. If I hadn’t come up with something, not only would immigration have been on our doorstep, but Child Protective Services.”
“Thankfully, Inessa was able to pull through at the eleventh hour and keep it together in front of the teachers.”
“And all it cost was an emerald bracelet and several prescriptions.” I slide my finger over the stack of shirts and study the black knife I embroidered on Mr. Novikov’s cuff. “Can you imagine if I had the chance to develop my natural gifts?” I shake my head. “I could be a semi-successful queen of a criminal empire by now.”
“Speaking of accomplished criminals, how is your boyfriend doing?”
“Stasia!”
“What?” She waves her hand toward the stack of shirts. “You’ve been crushing on the Bratva enforcer for over a year.”
“That is so not true.” She rolls her eyes. “Mr. Novikov is a customer, and I treat him like all the others at the dry cleaners.”
“Liar.” Leaning forward, she makes a show of studying the intricate initials. “How many hours of your own time have you spent creating those little masterpieces on his shirts.”
“It’s my creative outlet. And he’s very appreciative.”
“You’ve never given me a number.” She raises an eyebrow. “Exactly how much is inside those envelopes he slips you?”
“I don’t know. I just stuff them in my sock drawer.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Don’t shout.” I stand and close the window that faces the street. “I think of it as my rainy day fund.” Retaking my seat, I move the vase filled with hyacinths and inhale their sweet scent. “God forbid one of Mama’s stories ends up being true. I will need the stash of cash for getaway money.”
“Nothing has happened in twenty years, so whoever made Inessa hightail it out ofMother Russiahas lost interest or is dead.”
