"You haven't tried any of the desserts yet."
"Stop. You are a bad influence." As she finished speaking, Dasha came over to their table.
"Did you enjoy?" she asked, smiling at their empty plates.
"Very much," Julia replied. "It was all wonderful."
"Good. Now, you wanted to ask me something." She took a seat next to Alex and offered Julia an inquiring look.
Julia took the doll from her bag and set it on the table between them. "I found this doll among my mother's belongings and wondered if you could tell me anything about it."
"Oh, my, this is lovely," Dasha said. She slowly turned the doll around with an admiring gaze. "Beautiful. And very unique. The matryoshka doll is meant to be a symbol of motherhood and fertility. The smaller dolls inside are the babies." She paused for a moment. "The woman's face reminds me of someone. I can't think who. Oh, look at that." Dasha pointed to a tiny mark on the bottom corner of the doll. "There was a famous artist named Sergei Horkin, who used to sign his paintings with this S slash mark. I believe he did paint a few dolls. I can't remember whether it was the subject that was a famous person or if the famous person was the one who commissioned the doll. Either way, this doll could be very valuable if he was indeed the artist."
"Really?" Alex asked. "Is this Sergei still alive?"
"No, no, he died many, many years ago in the 1930s."
"The 1930s? Do you think the doll is that old?" Julia asked in surprise.
"I'm not an expert, but it might be."
"Do the swans or the art have any significance?" Alex inquired.
"Swans are often used in Russian stories," Dasha replied. "Swan Lake, for example:"
"A beautiful ballet," Julia said, glancing at Alex. "Have you seen it?"
"No, but I take it that the ballet has something to do with a swan."
"A sorcerer casts a spell that forces young women to live as swans unless they secure a man's undying devotion," Julia explained. "Siegfried, a prince, falls in love with the swan queen, Odette, but the sorcerer makes his evil daughter, Odile, pretend to be Odette and tricks the prince into promising his love to her. In the end, Siegfried and Odette realize they can only consummate their love by dying together."
"Very romantic," Alex said dryly. "You must die to get love. Hell of a choice."
"But their love was worth dying for," Julia reminded him. She could see that Alex was not at all touched by the story. She wondered if he'd ever been in love. He certainly had a cynical side to him. Was that because of a love gone wrong or no experience with the real thing?
Alex turned to Dasha. "Is there anything more you can tell us?"
"You should talk to my cousin, Svetlana. She runs a shop on Geary called Russian Treasures. She knows everything there is to know about these dolls."
"We'll go there now," Julia said, excited to have a lead.
Dasha quickly dashed her eagerness with a shake of her head. "Unfortunately, Svetlana is out of town until tomorrow night. The girl who runs the shop when she is gone doesn't know anything. She's an American teenager. If you go on Monday, Svetlana will be back then." Dasha stood up. "Now, I must return to work. Don't be a stranger, Alex. And you come back, too, Julia. You look good together.”
"Oh, we're not together," Julia replied quickly. "I'm engaged to someone else. Alex and I are... We're practically strangers."
"Sometimes strangers end up lovers," Dasha said. "It happened to me when a stranger asked to share my umbrella in the rain." A soft look came into her eyes. "We were both supposed to be with other people. We'd made promises, but love doesn't always go as one plans, and sometimes promises have to be broken. We've been together forty-two years now, and we've been through many rough storms, but they're easier to bear when there's an umbrella to share and a stranger who has become a good friend." Dasha smiled and returned to the deli counter.
Julia felt a little awkward after that pointed story. She didn't want Alex to get any ideas.
"Relax, Julia," he said abruptly. "I'm not offering to share my umbrella with you."
"That's good. Because I'm engaged."
"You've mentioned that."
"You probably don't even carry an umbrella, do you?"
"It would only slow me down," he replied.
"And a woman would slow you down even more."
He met her gaze head-on. "I've never met one yet who could keep up with me. Are you ready to go?" he asked, getting to his feet.
She hesitated, battling the impulse to continue their personal conversation. Whether or not Alex had a woman in his life or wanted one was not her concern or her business. She was simply curious, but she could see by the determined look in his eyes that he was eager to move on. "Yes, I'm ready." She put the doll back into her bag. "I wish we could talk to Svetlana today. Do you think we should go by her shop anyway?"
"Why don't we look up Sergei Horkin on the Internet? Maybe we can find something about his paintings there. I'd like to get back to my apartment. I picked up a box of my father's photos at my mother's house earlier today. I still want to find that negative."
"Can I help you look?" she asked impulsively.
Alex hesitated. "Don't you have other things to do?"
"Nothing as important as this."
"Really?" he asked curiously. "Does your fiancé feel the same way?"
"Michael wants what's best for me. He'll understand." At least she hoped he would.
Chapter Five
Liz found Michael halfway up a ladder in front of the small two-bedroom house he'd bought near the Marina as a surprise for Julia. She smiled as he tried to keep his balance while dipping the roller into the paint tray on top of the ladder. He really was a good-looking guy, she thought, with his wind-tossed light brown hair, ruddy cheeks, and strong build. Even dressed in paint-spattered jeans and a T-shirt, he was handsome and sexy. Julia was crazy to think she could put this man on the back burner and not risk losing him. Or maybe Julia wasn't crazy; maybe she was just sure of their love. Michael had certainly been devoted to her the past year.
"You missed a spot," she said, pointing to the area above his right shoulder.
"Hey, Lizzie," he said with a wave. "Just in time. I could use a hand."
"You look like you could use more than a hand. Don't you need a crew to do this?"
"I can do it myself." He climbed down the ladder, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Or with a little help. What are you doing right now?"
"I wasn't planning on painting," she said, her hand itching to wipe the splash of paint from his face. She forced herself to put her hands in her pockets.
"My brother bailed out on me, and I want to get the front done today. I have charters to run tomorrow. I could really use your help."
"I don't have anything to wear."
He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged his arms out, tossing it over to her. She caught her breath at the sight of his muscular chest covered with a nice spattering of black hair.
"You can wear mine over yours," he said.
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. I can work on my tan."
She didn't think he needed to do that. His body was already nicely browned. She put his shirt on over her tank top. It smelled like sweat and Michael, a heady scent. She was losing it. Michael was a friend, almost a brother, and soon to be her brother-in-law. She needed to get out more, have some dates, find herself another guy to get all hot and bothered about.
"Have you spoken to Julia today?" he asked.
She was glad he'd brought up Julia. It put a nice solid wall between them. "I saw her earlier."
"Is she still thinking about looking for her real father?"
"Yes. I tried to talk her out of it, Michael, but she's stuck on it. You know how she is when she gets curious about something. She can't stop until she figures it out. Remember that puzzle she worked on for three weeks straight until she finally put all the pieces together?"
"This isn't a puzzle. It's her life. And mine, too. I wa
nt her to focus on getting married."
"I understand."
"You don't think there's any possibility she's connected to that photo, do you?" he asked.
"No," Liz said. "That's a crazy thought. Julia is not Russian. She's just... Julia." She frowned, realizing that she didn't know Julia's ethnic background. But what did it matter? Julia had been happy with herself for twenty-eight years. Why did she have to suddenly change now?
"Maybe it's an excuse," Michael said, his lips tightening, a hurt look entering his eyes. "So she doesn't have to think about the wedding or move forward with our plans. She's stalling."
"I'm sure that's not true. It's probably the wedding that has brought it all to her mind. She's thinking about family, about changing her name, about having kids with you, and she wants to know about her past, so that there won't be any surprises later."
"There's nothing she could find out about her past that would change the way I feel about her. I wish she could understand that."
Once again Michael impressed her with his complete and total devotion to her sister. "You're an amazing man," she couldn't help saying. "Julia is lucky."
"You should tell her that."
"Believe me, I have."
Michael glanced back at the house. "Why don't I give you a tour before we start painting? You can tell me what you think of my surprise."
* * *
"Damn," Alex muttered, as they neared his apartment building. His mother was getting out of a silver-gray Mercedes parked at the curb. This couldn't possibly be good. He didn't want to talk to her again. And he especially didn't want to talk to her in front of Julia. But his mother had already seen them. She was waiting on the sidewalk for them.
"Who's that?" Julia asked.
"My mother," he said with a sigh.
"You don't sound happy to see her."
"I'm not," he muttered. "She's the devil."
"She can't be that bad."
"You don't know her. Why don't we keep it that way?" He paused in mid-stride. "I'll catch up to you later."
"You want me to leave?" she asked in surprise. "I thought we were going to look for the negative."
"I'll call you when I find it." He cast a quick glance at his mother, who was now frowning and tapping her foot impatiently on the sidewalk.
"Does your mother know something about the picture?" Julia asked, a suspicious note in her voice. "You seem awfully eager to get rid of me."
"Alex," his mother called. "I need to speak to you." She began walking toward them, and Alex had no choice but to meet her halfway.
"What's up?" he asked tersely.
"Aren't you going to introduce me to your friend?"
"Julia, this is my mother, Kate Manning."
"It's nice to meet you," Julia said.
"And lovely to meet you, too," Kate replied. "I rarely get a chance to even say hello to Alex's friends. He keeps them far away from me."
"What are you doing here, Mother?" Alex interrupted.
"I told you. I need to speak to you. Why don't we go upstairs into your apartment? You can offer me a drink while I get better acquainted with your friend."
"She's not my friend," Alex growled.
"Well, thanks a lot," Julia murmured.
"My mother's version of friend is not the same as yours. She thinks I'm dating every woman I'm seen with."
"Well, you must admit you do date a lot of them," Kate interjected.
Since it was quickly becoming apparent that he wouldn't be getting rid of either woman any time soon, Alex opened the door to his building, and the three of them walked up the stairs to his third-story apartment.
"You really should get a bigger place in a nicer building," his mother said, breathing a bit heavily from the climb. "One with an elevator. It's not like you can't afford it. Alex is very successful," she added to Julia. "One of the most sought-after photographers in the world today. Just like his father was."
"That's what I understand," Julia said, sending Alex an amused smile.
"Celeb Magazine wants to list him as one of their ten most eligible bachelors," his mother continued.
"Really?" Julia said. "That's very impressive."
"How long have you known each other?" Kate asked.
"About twenty-four hours."
Kate seemed taken aback by Julia's response. "Oh, I thought—"
"You didn't think. That's the problem," Alex interrupted. He opened the door to his apartment and ushered them inside. Tossing his keys down on the table, he put his hands on his hips and said, "Now, what do you want?"
His mother wasn't at all intimidated by his abruptness. She simply squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. "I want your cooperation," she said. "I'm meeting with a reporter at the Tribune this afternoon. She does the People Watch section. Her name is Christine Delaney. You've probably heard of her."
"I don't read the gossip column."
"She wants to interview both of us in connection with the exhibit. I'd like you to come with me. It would be great publicity for your father's work and for you."
"I'm busy, and I'm sure you can handle it on your own."
"It's important that she speak to you as well as me," his mother persisted. "In fact, I'm not sure there will be a story if you don't come."
He saw the steel in her smile and heard the determination in her voice, but he did not intend to give in. "Like I said, I have things to do."
"Your father—"
"Don't play that card," he warned her. "You're the one who wants publicity, so go for it. I'm sure you can find some other angle to the story. I'm not interested."
His words created a long, tense silence between them. He could see the anger in his mother's eyes, but she obviously didn't want to create a scene in front of Julia. Maybe it was a good thing she'd stayed.
"Fine," his mother said finally. "If that's the way you want it." She turned to Julia and offered her a gracious smile. "I'm sorry if I interrupted. My apologies."
"It's no problem," Julia said, sending Alex a questioning look.
Julia obviously didn't understand why there was so much tension between him and his mother, but he didn't intend to explain it to her. He was relieved when his mother started to leave without further comment. His relief was short-lived, however, when she paused, then turned, giving Julia a thoughtful look.
"Have we met before?" his mother asked.
"I don't think so," Julia replied.
"You look very familiar. Your eyes... I feel as if I've seen you somewhere. I'm very good with faces, and yours..."
Alex moved quickly across the room, opening the door to his apartment, hoping to get his mother out of the room before she developed the picture in her mind. He was too late.
She snapped her fingers. "The photograph. The orphan girl behind the gates." She looked at Alex, a question in her eyes. "The one you wanted the negative for. Is she the reason you came looking for it?"
"Don't be silly."
"I don't think I'm being silly," his mother said, her sharp mind adding up the facts. She studied Julia for a thoughtful minute, then said, "What are you up to, Alex? Is it possible that Julia is the girl in the photo?"
"Don't you have an interview to get to?" he countered.
She hesitated, glancing down at her watch. "You're right. I have to go. But we definitely need to talk. We'll finish this later."
"There's nothing to finish."
"Oh, I think there is. It was nice to meet you, Julia—whoever you are," she added with a troublemaking smile.
Alex shut the door quickly behind his mother. "Great, just great," he muttered.
"Why didn't you tell your mother you think I'm that girl?" Julia asked.
"I don't want her involved. She's very manipulative, and she always has an agenda. You don't want to become an item on her agenda, trust me."
"You don't make her sound very nice."
Alex knew he was probably painting her more black than he needed to, but his feelings a
bout his mother were complicated and prejudiced by past experience. "She's not important," he said. "Let's look for that negative."
"Of course she's important. She's your mother," Julia said, obviously not willing to drop the subject.
"I'm a little old to need a mother." He saw a shadow pass through her eyes, and he was reminded that she'd recently lost her mother, someone she'd obviously loved very much. "Let's stick to your life and your family."
"She's a beautiful woman," Julia said, ignoring his comment. "Is she married?"
Alex sighed, knowing he could give Julia some information now or spend the next hour dodging her questions. "Okay, I'll give you this much and that's it. My mother uses people to get what she wants, mostly men. She's never worked a day in her life, but she lives well, because she marries well, and she does it over and over again. She married my father because he was an up-and-coming photojournalist. She thought she'd get famous along with him. Unfortunately, he left her behind most of the time and preferred to have his photos printed anonymously. Two years after my father died, she married a doctor—he had money, a big house, and a really nice Porsche. He also liked to gamble. Eight years later, he lost thirty grand in Las Vegas, and she kicked him out. Three years later she married a successful lawyer, a city councilman. He was a great guy, until he had an affair with a high school girl and ruined his life and my mother's life in the process. That was three years ago. I'm not sure when husband number four will make his appearance, but I don't really care. She lives her life. I live mine. End of story. All right?”
"All right," Julia replied, without making further comment.
He was surprised by her restraint. He was also surprised that he'd told her as much as he had. But it was too late to take it back now. "The negatives are in that box," he said abruptly, moving toward the coffee table.
Julia followed him across the room and sat down on the couch. For some reason her silence really annoyed him. He told himself to forget about it, forget about her, and get down to business. Then he made the mistake of looking into her eyes, of seeing warmth, compassion, understanding, and the ice around his heart cracked just a little. Damn her.
Summer Reads Box Set: Volume 1 Page 73