salon with your sister.”
“No, I mean, the first time. When you first met.”
“I never told you that story? I found her at the library.”
Ivan chuckles. “What, did you look for her under ‘D’ for Delouvois? No, that’s not what I mean. I’ve heard that story before. How did you find her, though? Someone you could stay married to for thirty-five years?”
That something returns again, something like sadness, a slumping. Maybe that’s what old age looks like. Maybe you lose the ability to stand as tall as you once did. “Dumb luck.” Max reaches up and ruffles Ivan’s hair, just like Mira had done the night before. “I know what you’re talking about. And my advice to you is: Stop looking so hard.”
“You weren’t looking when you met Mom?”
“I was only looking for a book.”
CHAPTER 22
Katya
“I’M SORRY I DROPPED THE PHONE.” KATYA MUMBLES THIS, AS IF ANY of the tourists going by on the sidewalk can hear her, or care that she’s on the phone with an old boyfriend.
“What? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. We must have a bad connection.”
You don’t know the half of it, Katya thinks. “I was just apologizing for dropping the phone.”
“So, that really was you who called last night? My caller ID said K. PETERSON , so I took a chance that it was you and dialed back.”
Katya is distracted by her mother and Patty saying something about pedicures and walking back, and she waves them off, settling onto a wrought-iron bench at the next storefront. Took a chance it was you… He wanted to hear from her.
She clears her throat, aware the silence on her end has stretched too long. “I, uh, didn’t realize it was so late. I was just, I got totalking with my parents, and…Anyway, sorry about that. I realized it was so late just at the same time as you picked up, and I ended up hanging up on you. I didn’t mean it, but it hardly seemed right to call back and bother you again to explain.”
Tom chuckles, and that sound fills Katya with a ticklish warmth. “That’s my Katya, always with an explanation. I wish I had a better one, myself, for why I called you to begin with.”
Katya grips the arm of the bench to remind herself where she is. She looks down at the platinum band on her left hand, with a three-diamond anniversary ring above it. “Oh?” is the only reply she gives.
“I mean, it must sound pretty strange, for me to be calling you based on a mirage of you driving by my house.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Her voice feels tight, like her windpipe is closing. She coughs and takes a breath. “Maybe you’ve just got old times on the brain, you know?”
“Sure, must be. So, how are you? Married? Kids?”
Katya feels a heavy connection again with the real world, the iron bench pressing into her thighs, leaving red imprints of filigree. The hot sun scorches her feet, which are outside the shade of the awning. The tourists flocking by seem louder, more bustling, their shouted conversations reminding her of squawking birds at the zoo.
“Yes, I’m married to a man I met in college. Charles. He’s a businessman. I have my own business, too. Kat’s Cradle Design; I do graphic design.”
“Ah!” Katya can hear the smile in his voice, and she pictures his dimpled chin. “I remember those little cartoons you used to do. You used to draw the cutest little sketches of all our friends.”
“And I have three children, now. Chip—that’s Charles Jr.,—Taylor and my youngest is Katherine, but we call her Kit.”
“Sounds like a full life.”
“Yes, it’s busy all right.” Katya wonders if that’s what he meant by “full.” “And you?”
“I’ve got a daughter, she’ll be thirteen next month.”
“Oh, how nice. I’ll bet she’s excited.” Katya digs her fingernails into her thigh, trying to stop herself, but she asks anyway. “And your wife?”
“Not married anymore. Emily lives with my ex in Chicago.”
“Oh, so far away.” Katya cringes for him. Much
“No, I mean, the first time. When you first met.”
“I never told you that story? I found her at the library.”
Ivan chuckles. “What, did you look for her under ‘D’ for Delouvois? No, that’s not what I mean. I’ve heard that story before. How did you find her, though? Someone you could stay married to for thirty-five years?”
That something returns again, something like sadness, a slumping. Maybe that’s what old age looks like. Maybe you lose the ability to stand as tall as you once did. “Dumb luck.” Max reaches up and ruffles Ivan’s hair, just like Mira had done the night before. “I know what you’re talking about. And my advice to you is: Stop looking so hard.”
“You weren’t looking when you met Mom?”
“I was only looking for a book.”
CHAPTER 22
Katya
“I’M SORRY I DROPPED THE PHONE.” KATYA MUMBLES THIS, AS IF ANY of the tourists going by on the sidewalk can hear her, or care that she’s on the phone with an old boyfriend.
“What? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. We must have a bad connection.”
You don’t know the half of it, Katya thinks. “I was just apologizing for dropping the phone.”
“So, that really was you who called last night? My caller ID said K. PETERSON , so I took a chance that it was you and dialed back.”
Katya is distracted by her mother and Patty saying something about pedicures and walking back, and she waves them off, settling onto a wrought-iron bench at the next storefront. Took a chance it was you… He wanted to hear from her.
She clears her throat, aware the silence on her end has stretched too long. “I, uh, didn’t realize it was so late. I was just, I got totalking with my parents, and…Anyway, sorry about that. I realized it was so late just at the same time as you picked up, and I ended up hanging up on you. I didn’t mean it, but it hardly seemed right to call back and bother you again to explain.”
Tom chuckles, and that sound fills Katya with a ticklish warmth. “That’s my Katya, always with an explanation. I wish I had a better one, myself, for why I called you to begin with.”
Katya grips the arm of the bench to remind herself where she is. She looks down at the platinum band on her left hand, with a three-diamond anniversary ring above it. “Oh?” is the only reply she gives.
“I mean, it must sound pretty strange, for me to be calling you based on a mirage of you driving by my house.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” Her voice feels tight, like her windpipe is closing. She coughs and takes a breath. “Maybe you’ve just got old times on the brain, you know?”
“Sure, must be. So, how are you? Married? Kids?”
Katya feels a heavy connection again with the real world, the iron bench pressing into her thighs, leaving red imprints of filigree. The hot sun scorches her feet, which are outside the shade of the awning. The tourists flocking by seem louder, more bustling, their shouted conversations reminding her of squawking birds at the zoo.
“Yes, I’m married to a man I met in college. Charles. He’s a businessman. I have my own business, too. Kat’s Cradle Design; I do graphic design.”
“Ah!” Katya can hear the smile in his voice, and she pictures his dimpled chin. “I remember those little cartoons you used to do. You used to draw the cutest little sketches of all our friends.”
“And I have three children, now. Chip—that’s Charles Jr.,—Taylor and my youngest is Katherine, but we call her Kit.”
“Sounds like a full life.”
“Yes, it’s busy all right.” Katya wonders if that’s what he meant by “full.” “And you?”
“I’ve got a daughter, she’ll be thirteen next month.”
“Oh, how nice. I’ll bet she’s excited.” Katya digs her fingernails into her thigh, trying to stop herself, but she asks anyway. “And your wife?”
“Not married anymore. Emily lives with my ex in Chicago.”
“Oh, so far away.” Katya cringes for him. Much
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