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“Very much so.”
Marta rolls a cart in and places a flower-tiered serving tray filled with tea sandwiches on the table near the windows. “My best friend, Stasia, is a master baker and loves the high tea ritual.”
“Considering tea is a very Russian tradition, that’s not surprising.” Standing, she studies me closely. “You look like a Tarasov.”
Joining her, I fuss with the clip in my hair. “I knew my height and figure had to come from somewhere since Mama resembled a small doll.”
“I wish that I had brought pictures.” She shakes her head and walks to the table where the afternoon tea is set up.
“Me too,” I mumble before waving Yuri over.
“How are you doing?”
I inhale his familiar scent and feel it ground me. “Good. It’s a lot.”
“Vlad’s going to take care of some business and return in a few hours.”
Nodding, I move closer. “Will you join us for tea?”
“If you want me to.”
“Of course I do.” I glance over my shoulder and see my Grandmother speaking with Marta. “The little cookies look yummy, so it shouldn’t be too bad.”
“Nothing with you is bad.”
“Except my driving.” Nothing in his expression changes. “We can talk about it later.”
“Absolutely. Because not talking about at least a half dozen times a day would be strange.”
I paste a smile on my face and walk toward the table, wondering why I can’t let the subject go. “Yuri is going to join us, Grandmother.”
“Of course.”
Yuri holds out a chair, waits until she’s seated, and then repeats the process with me before taking his seat. “This looks lovely.” Once the tea is served, I take Yuri’s hand. “Why did you keep tabs on us but never get in touch?”
“I wasn’t going to let my granddaughter disappear into the wind.”
I accept the half-answer and hope there is more to come. “Mama never called me Anastasia. It was always Lina. Do you know why?”
“Inessa only named you Anastasia to please her mother. She called you Lina from the moment you were born.”
“Mama rarely spoke about her parents or anyone from her family.”
“I always got the impression that the relationship with her parents was strained. I met your maternal grandmother twice and found her to be quite critical, so perhaps that had something to do with it.”
“Despite the usual mother-daughter conflict, Mama and I had a close relationship. The only time she had a harsh word for me was when I wanted to stray too far from the nest. And she often said she would never treat anyone the way her mother had, and too few people understood that words could be just as dangerous as bullets.” I study the small, even stitches on Yuri’s cuff. “Anyway…are there many Tarasovs? Do I have cousins or aunts and uncles?”
Olga clears her throat. “There are Tarasovs scattered around the continent, but I don’t keep in touch with them. But I’m close with my two sisters who live in London and their children.”
“I have cousins.” I squueze Yuri’s hand. “Perhaps, I can meet them one day.”
“As soon as the estate business is settled, I will host a party.” She waves her hand. “Let me start at the beginning.”
“The love story?”
“Indeed.” She nods to Marta, and three glasses of champagne are brought over immediately. “The story is best served with alcohol.”
“We know it ends with a midnight flight out of Moscow, so we may need something a little stronger,” I respond before taking a sip.
