All the Lies We Tell (Quarry Road Book 1)

by Megan Hart

  Theresa took a seat, her bag on her lap. “Yeah. Totally.”

  “Nikolai said his mother isn’t going back to South Carolina.” Alicia closed out of the multiple browser tabs she’d had open. Travel blogs, mostly. Just because she’d never gone anywhere exotic didn’t mean she didn’t like to read about the trips other people took.

  “She mentioned that to me, too,” Theresa answered. “I guess I hadn’t realized that she’d been down there so long.”

  “Since before Ilya and I got married.” Alicia talked to her parents weekly, sometimes on the phone or via video chat, and while they never came back to Pennsylvania, she visited them several times a year. Galina had often contacted Ilya over the phone or e-mail, but had also gone long stretches of time without a word. Alicia hadn’t thought it was right to have such sporadic contact, but Galina wasn’t her mother, and therefore it hadn’t been up to her.

  “Why do you think she’s staying up here this time?”

  Alicia thought about it for a second. “Is it wrong of me to feel suspicious? Like she has an ulterior motive?”

  “No,” Theresa laughed. “When someone behaves the same way for as long as you’ve known them, it’s natural to expect they’ll keep behaving the same way. It has that feeling about it, doesn’t it? Like an accident waiting to happen.”

  “That’s a good way to describe it.” It wasn’t Galina who made her feel that way, it was Nikolai, but she wasn’t going to let herself think about him anymore. Alicia stood. “Ready for lunch? Where do you want to go?”

  “You pick. Do you mind driving separately? I have some appointments on the other side of town this afternoon.”

  They agreed to meet at a local pizza shop, not yet crowded since it wasn’t quite lunchtime. They ordered slices and drinks and took them to a back booth. Alicia looked up at the sound of a cough to see a woman who looked semifamiliar, but whose face she couldn’t place.

  “I’m Mimi Zook,” the older woman said. “I work at the home where your grandmother lived. I’m sorry to hear of her passing. She was one of the loveliest residents.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that so much,” Alicia said.

  When the woman had moved away to her own table, Theresa said, “Everyone loved Babulya. Do you know that she sent me a birthday card every single year?”

  Alicia’s eyebrows rose. “She did? Even . . .”

  “Yeah, even after. I mean, I only had one birthday when I lived there, but she remembered. Sent me a card every single year, with two—”

  “Two brand-new dollar bills!” Alicia clapped her hands. “Yes. Wow.”

  Theresa’s eyes glittered a little, and she smiled. “Exactly. There were times when my father didn’t even remember, but Babulya did.”

  “I’m going to miss her.”

  “We all are.” Theresa pulled a napkin from the holder and wiped her eyes. “But hey, listen, I came here for something totally unrelated to any of the craziness going on at the Sterns’. Talk about an ulterior motive.”

  Alicia grabbed a napkin, too, her own voice thick with tears. “Yeah?”

  “Yep.” Theresa pulled a thick white envelope from her bag and passed it across the table.

  “What’s this?”

  “It’s an offer from the company I work with. Diamond Development.” Theresa cleared her throat and inched forward to sit on the edge of her seat. “They want to buy the quarry.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Hey.” Niko nudged his sleeping brother. Ilya hadn’t been off the couch for the past couple of days except to use the bathroom and go back to bed. “Are you ever getting your ass up? Going back to work? I’m sure Alicia would appreciate it if you’d at least let her know what’s going on.”

  Ilya cracked open an eye and gave his brother the finger. “I have the flu.”

  “You don’t have the flu.” This came from Galina, who’d just come in from outside. The tang of smoke clung to her clothes. “You have the laziness. Get up. Take a shower. You stink.”

  Ilya muttered something and flopped back onto the couch, facing the back cushions. This was all getting out of hand. He should’ve left a week ago, yet here he still was, dealing with everyone else’s bullshit.

  Irritated, Niko poked him again. “Get up. Or I’m going to make you get up, and I’ll throw you in the shower myself. Mom’s right. You do stink. It’s been two weeks, man. You need to get up and get back to work, starting tomorrow.”

  “Bite me,” Ilya said.

  Niko grabbed his brother by the back of the shirt and hauled him upright, ducking out of the way when Ilya tried to swing at him. “You want to hit me? G’head and try.”

  “Boys.” Galina tut-tutted, shaking her head. “Take it outside.”

  It was what she’d always said when they were young. They were too old now to be scrapping, but Niko put up his fists anyway. Like a dare. Watching his brother’s expression for any sign that he meant to take another swing.

  “I don’t want to fight you,” Niko warned.

  Ilya snorted laughter. “Yeah. Sure you don’t. You’ve been aching to punch me in the face since you got here.”

  The only person Niko had ever punched in his life was his brother, and most often then only at Ilya’s instigation. He uncurled his fingers and held out his hands. Not a target. He’d gone away and come home again, but that didn’t mean he had to keep falling into all the same stupid patterns.

  “Boys!”

  Both of them turned to look at their mother. She’d put her hands on her hips. Today she wore her hair in a braid that swung over one shoulder. The lines around her eyes and creases at the corners of her mouth were a little deeper, but not by much. She didn’t so much look older as smaller, Niko thought. Galina had always been built tiny but strong. She looked frail now.

  “I’m making dinner. It will be ready in an hour.” She poked a finger at Ilya. “You. Shower and change your clothes. Niko, clear off the table in the dining room. We’re going to eat in there like civilized people. And set a place for Allie. I invited her to come over.”

  Both brothers stopped their posturing to face their mother. Ilya laughed. Niko didn’t.

  “What? Why?” Ilya asked with a shake of his head. “Jesus, Mother.”

  Galina waved a languid hand. “Because that girl used to be my daughter-in-law, and, so sue me, I always liked her. She was good to your Babulya and, frankly, Ilya, to you. So why shouldn’t I invite her over to spend some time with us? She’s family. We’re all a family. I told you, it’s time we started acting like one.”

  There wasn’t much to say when she put it like that, not without sounding like a dick or making too much of it and calling attention to a situation Niko really didn’t want to overthink more than he already had. He studied his mother’s expression, trying to see if she had any idea about Alicia and him, but Galina had always been difficult to read. Whatever her reasons for including Alicia in the “family” dinner, he convinced himself it probably had nothing to do with what had happened between them.

  “Go. Do as you’re told,” Galina said now with an imperious wave of her fingers that brought back flashes of memory from when they were kids. First she commanded, and if she wasn’t obeyed, she screamed. Even as an adult, Niko discovered he didn’t want to tempt his mother into a meltdown.

  To Niko’s surprise, Ilya didn’t argue. Maybe he also didn’t want to deal with Galina’s temper. Niko waited a beat or two longer before he went into the dining room to clear the table from the remnants of last week’s shiva. From the kitchen he heard the rattle of pots and pans. He smelled the tinge of smoke different from Galina’s cigarettes, and the underlying aroma of garlic and wine.

  He looked up when she followed him into the dining room. She went to the antique china cabinet in the corner and opened the door. She ran a hand along the interior, leaning forward to look deep.

  “Use these dishes, the good ones.” She glanced over her shoulder with a smile. “There’s no point in saving them for
something special if we never make anything special, yes?”

  “Sure. Okay.” He went to the cabinet while Galina bent to pull out a tablecloth from the lower drawer. “If that’s what you want.”

  “It’s good to have nice things, don’t you think?” She spread the cloth on the table, smoothing it.

  Niko pulled out a couple of plates, gold rimmed and edged with flowers. He could not recall ever once using them. “Yeah, I guess so. Or it’s good not to have things you’re tied down to.”

  “Hmm, is that how you feel? Is that because you don’t have anything of your own?”

  He looked up to see her staring at him with a slightly twisted smile. “I have things of my own. Just not the same way you do. I don’t need fancy china I never use, because I eat in a cafeteria. I don’t spend my time or money accumulating stuff for the sake of it.”

  “You know, I always liked the letters you sent from the kibbutz. I envied you that experience. I thought about going over there myself. I could be a socialist, sure, why not?” Galina gestured for him to put the plates on the table.

  Niko settled two of them, then pulled out a few more, handing them over for her to place at each chair. “Oh, you think so?”

  “Oh, yes. It seems like it would be good, you know? You work hard, you contribute, you don’t have to worry about where you’re going to live or how you’ll eat. That sounds very nice, to me. Very comfortable.” Galina shrugged and stepped back to look at the table, then gestured for more plates.

  “It was all right for a time, but you wouldn’t like it long term,” he told her. “Not when you have to take what someone else determines you deserve to have.”

  She looked at him thoughtfully as she finished setting all the places with dinner plates. “That’s what you think of your mother?”

  “I don’t always like it, how about that.” Niko shrugged and looked in the cabinet for glasses or bread plates or whatever other fancy things might be in there that she wanted to use.

  “Well, I’ve always wanted to visit Israel. Do you know that when Babulya came here to America from Russia, she almost went there, instead? But they weren’t letting anyone in. They’d get on the ships and be turned away—or worse, they put them in camps. It was near the end of the war, and, still, they wouldn’t let them in,” she said lightly. “She always told me she’d barely escaped the Germans putting her in a camp. She wasn’t going to let the British put her in one just so she could find a place in the homeland. You have to remember she wasn’t even allowed to be Jewish growing up in Russia.”

  Niko pulled out a stack of smaller dishes and handed them over. “I never heard that story.”

  “She didn’t talk about it much, not to you boys, anyway. She didn’t like to think about it. She came here instead, to America. And she met my father, and she had me. And I had Ilya,” Galina said. “And then you. And here we are now. But I always did envy you spending time there. I think how different my life would’ve been if my mother had made a different choice.”

  “If she’d made a different choice, you probably wouldn’t have been born.” Niko waved toward the kitchen. “What are you making?”

  “Smart-ass stew,” his mother quipped, and fixed him with a look he remembered well from his childhood. “An old family recipe.”

  They finished setting the table together without a lot of small talk after that. It seemed she’d learned how to prepare more than breakfast at her diner job. It was a simple meal—roast chicken, salad, couscous with onions and garlic, and wine. Yet Galina plated it expertly and had it on the table with Niko’s help by the time Ilya finished with the shower.

  “Just about blasted my balls off,” Ilya grumbled as he took his place at the head of the table, where Galina had told him to sit. “I thought you were fixing it. Hey. Fancy dishes?”

  “It’s time we used them,” Galina put in.

  “The shower’s on the list,” Niko said. “Sorry I’m not working around the clock to fix everything that’s been broken around here. Maybe instead of sleeping on the couch all day long you could pitch in, since you’ve apparently decided that you’re not going back to work.”

  “I didn’t say I was never going back,” Ilya replied. “I just needed some downtime.”

  “Downtime doesn’t pay the bills,” their mother said.

  Ilya shrugged. “What’s the point of being your own boss if you can’t make your own hours?”

  “It just seems like a shitty thing to do to Alicia, that’s all.” Niko took the bottle of wine his mother was handing him, along with the corkscrew.

  “Since when do you care about my business or Allie?” Ilya jerked his chin in his brother’s direction. “What’s she been saying about me? Has she been bitching to you?”

  Niko didn’t answer that, not trusting himself to talk too much about Alicia. He focused on opening the bottle of Malbec. He was saved from further interrogation when the doorbell rang as a warning, and, moments later, Theresa came into the kitchen.

  She held up a large boxed chocolate cake. “I brought dessert.”

  “A working woman,” Galina said with a pointed look at her older son. “With responsibilities. And a paycheck. Someone raised her with a good work ethic.”

  “Well, it wasn’t you,” Ilya said. “So I wouldn’t get all proud about it, like you can take credit.”

  Oh, shit, Niko thought. Here we go. The tension that had been brewing since Galina had returned home was about to get ugly.

  “Let me get an opener,” he said to soothe them both. “Mom, dinner smells fantastic. Let’s eat.”

  Theresa set the box she’d brought on the counter. “Ilya, don’t be a jerk. What can I do to help?”

  For a moment it still felt as though Ilya and Galina were going to launch themselves at each other like Godzilla versus Mothra, or something, but at Theresa’s admonition, Ilya quieted.

  “Good job,” Niko said under his breath as they were both dispensed by Galina into the dining room with handfuls of food.

  Theresa gave him a small smile and shrugged as she put down a basket of rolls. She cocked her head at the sound of Galina’s laughter from the kitchen. “I’m good at peacemaking.”

  “Part of your job?” Niko had a vague idea about what Theresa did for a living—something to do with real estate development and property management.

  “You could say that.” Theresa hesitated, looking as though she meant to say more, but looked toward the dining-room doorway that connected with the hall, not the kitchen. “Hey, Allie.”

  Niko turned. Alicia stood with a pie in her hands. She looked him right in the eye and held it up.

  “I brought dessert. It’s cherry.”

  “My favorite,” Niko said.

  Alicia didn’t smile. “I know.”

  Then Ilya came in with a steaming platter of chicken, Galina on his heels, and whatever Niko had thought he might say to Alicia was lost in the bustle of everyone taking places at the table. Once they’d all been seated, Galina raised her glass of wine and waited for everyone to quiet. She cleared her throat.

  “It’s nice to sit down with family at the beginning of the week. Talk about what we’re doing. Be involved with each other’s lives. Thank you all for coming to Sunday dinner. I’m happy to have you here. My sons . . . and both my daughters.”

  Niko saw Theresa and Alicia sharing a look. Alicia’s lips thinned, though he couldn’t tell if it was to hide a laugh or a cough of surprise. Theresa rallied first, lifting her glass of water.

  “To family,” Theresa said firmly.

  There wasn’t anything to do but join the toast, so Niko raised his glass, too. He tried catching Alicia’s eye, but she wasn’t looking at him. “Family.”

  “Family,” Alicia agreed, her own glass raised, but her gaze averted from his and everyone else’s.

  “Fine,” Ilya said at last, and clinked his glass against each of theirs. “To family.”

  “It wasn’t the weirdest dinner we’ve ever had,” Alici
a said quietly with a glance over her shoulder to make sure they were alone in the kitchen.

  Galina had declared that since she’d cooked, it would be someone else’s job to clean up. With the fancy china, that meant hand-washing, not the dishwasher. She’d disappeared upstairs to the master bedroom she’d commandeered from Ilya. Theresa had apologized but excused herself to take a conference call in her room—the fact she was actually staying in the house while she was in town still made Niko shake his head. Ilya had claimed exhaustion and gone up to his old bedroom.

  That left Niko and Alicia to handle the dishes and put away the food. It hadn’t taken them long. They worked together like they’d planned out every move ahead of time.

  “No,” he agreed. “Not like when she was into tarot, and we had to get a reading just to see if she was going to serve cold cereal or tacos.”

  Alicia laughed. “Oh, wow. I guess I must’ve missed that.”

  “I was in about fifth grade, I guess. It didn’t last long. Babulya was very against it. Said tarot were the devil’s cards.” Niko laughed, too.

  “I think it’s kind of nice, actually. That she wants to spend family time together. Losing her mother must’ve had her thinking about things.” Alicia ran her hands under the faucet and dried them on a towel, then leaned against the counter. “Having everyone here is different, huh? Feels weird. It’s been a long time.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Totally weird. And Theresa. How about that?”

  Alicia gave him a sideways glance. “She’s got some business in town. I’m not sure I’d want to stay here instead of in a hotel, though. I guess it’s only for a few days more. Then she’ll be leaving. And you?”

  “What about me?” He leaned on the counter.

  “You’ll be leaving again soon, won’t you?”

  Run away.

  Run toward.

  Make a decision; you can’t just stand still.

  “Actually, no,” Niko said. “It looks like I’m going to be hanging out here for at least the next few weeks.”

  “Oh. Really? That’s a surprise.” She gave him a steady, thoughtful look, her eyes a little narrowed. “I would have thought you’d be out of here as soon as you possibly could. How come you’re staying?”