“I’ve never noticed.”
“Don’t forget, the customer sees the menu long before they see their food. As design was part of my degree course, I thought I could come up with something a little more enticing for Elena’s.” She took half a dozen sheets of paper out of her carrier bag and placed them on the table.
Alex studied the different designs for some time before he said, “Wow, I see what you mean.”
“They’re only preliminary sketches,” said Anna. “I’ll have a more polished version by the time we go to Virginia.”
“I can’t wait,” said Alex, as the waiter whisked their empty plates away.
“But you’ll have to,” said Anna, checking her watch. “Must dash. Mr. Rosenthal will raise his cultured eyebrow if I’m a minute late.”
While Anna returned to the gallery, Alex took the subway to Brighton Beach and dropped in to Elena’s to let his mother know Paolo would be joining them on Monday.
“And Anna?” said Elena.
“She’s fine,” said Alex, who quickly left for his other world, before she could remind him he only had three days left to beat his father’s record.
He was sitting in the front row of the lecture theater at Columbia only moments before Professor Donovan made his entrance.
“This evening, we will consider the significance of the Marshall Plan,” said Donovan, “and the role President Truman played in assisting the Europeans to get back on their feet after the Second World War. The financial instability facing Europe in 1945 was such that…”
By the time Alex got home just after ten, he was exhausted. He found his mother in the kitchen chatting to Dimitri, who’d just arrived back from Leningrad.
Alex collapsed into the nearest chair.
“Dimitri tells me that your uncle Kolya has just been made convener of the dockers’ union,” said Elena. “Isn’t that wonderful news?”
Alex didn’t comment. He was sound asleep and quietly snoring.
30
ALEX
Boston
“I’d love to hear more about your life in the Soviet Union, and how you ended up coming to America,” said Anna, as the train pulled out of Penn Station.
“The sanitized version, or do you want all the gory details?”
“The truth.”
Alex began with the death of his father, and everything that had happened to him between then and the day he met her on the subway on 51st Street. He only left out the real reason he’d nearly killed Major Polyakov, and the fact that Dimitri worked for the CIA. When he came to the end, Anna’s first question took him by surprise.
“Do you think it’s possible your school friend might have been responsible for your father’s death?”
“I’ve thought about that many times,” admitted Alex. “I’ve no doubt Vladimir was capable of such an act of treachery, and I only hope for his sake we never meet again.”
“How different it might have been, if you and your mother had climbed into the other crate.”
“I wouldn’t have met you, for a start,” said Alex as he took her hand. “So now you’ve heard my life story, it’s your turn.”
“I was born in a prison camp in Siberia. I never knew my father, and my mother died before I could even—”
“Good try,” said Alex, placing an arm around her shoulder. She turned and kissed him for the first time. It took him a few moments to recover, before he murmured, “Now tell me the real story.”
“I didn’t escape from Siberia, but from South Dakota, when I was offered a place at Georgetown. I’d always wanted to go to art school, but I wasn’t quite good enough, so I settled for art history, and ended up being offered a job at Rosenthal’s.”
“You must have done well at Georgetown,” said Alex, “because Mr. Rosenthal didn’t strike me as someone who suffers fools gladly.”
“He’s very demanding,” said Anna, “but quite brilliant. He’s not only a scholar but a shrewd dealer, which is why he’s so highly respected in the profession. I’m learning so much more from him than I did at university. Now I’ve met your indefatigable mother, tell me something about your father.”
“He was the most remarkable man I’ve ever known. Had he lived, I’ve no doubt he would have been the first president of an independent Russia.”
“Whereas his son will end up as president of a pizza company in Brooklyn,” she teased.
“Not if my mother has anything to do with it. She’d like me to be a professor, a lawyer, or a doctor. Anything but a businessman. But I still have no idea what I’m going to do after I leave business school. I have to admit, though, that you and Lawrence have changed my life.”
“How?”
“While I was searching for you, I dropped into several other galleries. It was like discovering a new world where I kept meeting so many beautiful women. I’m hoping that when we get back to New York, you might introduce me to even more.”
“Then we’ll have to start at MoMA, move on to the Frick, and if the love affair continues, I’ll introduce you to several reclining women at the Metropolitan. And to think I thought it was me you’d fallen for.”
“Anna, I fell for you the moment I saw you. If you’d only turned around after you got off that train and given me even the hint of a smile, I would have battered the doors down and chased after you.”
“My mother taught me never to look back.”
“Your mother sounds as bad as mine, but can she cook a calzone?”
“Not a hope. She’s a schoolteacher. Second grade.”
“And your father?”
“He’s the principal at the same school, but no one’s in any doubt who really runs the place.”
“I can’t wait to meet them,” said Alex as Anna rested her head on his shoulder.
Alex had never known a journey to pass so quickly. They swapped stories about their upbringing, and she introduced him to Fra Angelico, Bellini, and Caravaggio, while he told her about Tolstoy, Pushkin, and Lermontov.
They’d only reached the seventeenth century by the time the train pulled into Union Station just after eleven thirty. Alex didn’t speak as the taxi drove them to the National Cemetery. When he and Anna walked along the manicured lawns, passing row upon row of unadorned white gravestones, he was reminded of his conversation with Lieutenant Lowell in a dugout and the word “futility” rang in his ears. Not a day went by when he didn’t remember the Tank. Not a day went by when he didn’t thank whatever god there might be for how lucky he was to have survived.
They stopped when they reached the gravestone of Private First Class Samuel T. Burrows. Anna stood by silently as Alex wept unashamedly. Some time passed before he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, unwrapped it, knelt down, and placed the Silver Star on his friend’s grave.
Alex didn’t know how long he stood there. “Good-bye, old friend,” he said, when he finally turned to leave. “I will return.”
Anna smiled at him so tenderly that he began to weep again.
“Thank you, Anna,” he said as she took him in her arms. “The Tank would have loved you, and you would have approved of him being my best man.”
“If that was a proposal,” said Anna, who couldn’t help blushing, “my mother would point out that we’ve only known each other for two weeks.”
“Twelve days was enough for my father,” said Alex, as he fell to one knee and produced a small velvet box from his pocket. He opened it to reveal his grandmother’s engagement ring.
As he placed the ring on the third finger of Anna’s left hand, she delivered a line he would remember for the rest of his life.
“I must be the only girl who’s ever been proposed to in a cemetery.”
* * *
“How do you like the new menus?” asked Alex.
“Classy, like your mother,” said Lawrence. “Did she design them?”
“No, Anna did, in her spare time.”
“I can’t wait to meet this girl. Perhaps I should invite her up to Boston for the
weekend to see my art collection.”
Alex laughed. “And I can tell you she’d accept, because Anna can’t wait to meet you and view the collection. So, Lawrence, as I suspect you didn’t fly down to New York just to flatter me, I can only hope you don’t want your money back, because I’ve already spent it.”
“But are you ready for me to invest even more?”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because if Elena’s is going to expand, the only thing Todd was right about, you’ll need an injection of capital.”
“And you’d be willing to supply it?”
“You bet. It’s in my interest to do so, as I own fifty percent of the business.”
“Only until I pay you back.”
“Which could take you some considerable time if you agree to my proposal.”
Alex laughed. “Your godfather wouldn’t approve.”
“I can’t imagine why. One of his first investments was in McDonald’s, despite his never having eaten a hamburger in his life. But we do have a problem.”
“And what’s that?” said Alex, as Paolo returned with the day’s special.
“I think I may have found the perfect site for Elena Three in Boston, but how do we duplicate your mother?”
“It will always be her recipes on the menu,” said Alex. “And God help any chef who falls below her high standards.”
“How do you think she’d feel about spending the first month in whichever city we choose whenever we open a new Elena’s?”
“If she was convinced it was your idea,” said Alex, “she might just go along with it.”
“How are you enjoying today’s specials?” asked a familiar voice.
Lawrence stood to greet Elena. “Superb,” he said, two fingers touching his lips. Alex recognized the special smile his mother reserved for her favorite customers. “And I wondered, Elena, if you and I could have a private word later, preferably when Alex is not around?”
* * *
When Elena 3 opened its doors to the Boston public for the first time, Alex was surprised by the interest shown by the local and national press. But then, he wasn’t a politician.
Ted Kennedy, who presided over the opening ceremony, told the assembled gathering that in the past he had opened hospitals, schools, football stadiums, even an airport, but never a pizza parlor. “But let’s face it,” he continued, “this is an election year.” He waited for the laughter to die down before adding, “In any case, Elena’s is no ordinary pizza parlor. My good friend, Lawrence Lowell, your Democratic candidate for Congress, got behind this enterprise right from the start. You see he believes in Elena Karpenko and her son, Alex, who escaped from the tyranny of Communism in the belief that they could build a new life in the United States. They personify the American dream.”
Alex looked around to see his mother hiding behind a fridge with Anna standing by her side. He wondered if she’d told her yet.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said Kennedy, “it gives me great pleasure to officially declare Elena Three open.”
Once the applause had died down, Lawrence stepped forward to thank the senator, adding, “Once I’ve had today’s special, the Congressman pizza—cheesy, a lot of ham with a pinch of salt—I’ll be well prepared to set out on the campaign trail.”
He waited for the cheers to subside before going on to say, “I also have an important announcement to make. I have invited Alex Karpenko to join my team, as a press liaison officer.”
“But he’s never been involved in a campaign before,” shouted one of the journalists.
“And I hadn’t eaten a pizza before I came to America,” Alex retorted, which was greeted with more cheers.
Once Lawrence had finished his speech, Alex looked around for Senator Kennedy, so he could thank him. But he’d already left for his next engagement, giving Alex an immediate insight into what the next twelve weeks were going to be like.
* * *
“Do you think your brother reported the theft of the picture to the police?” asked Todd after the butler had left the room.
“What makes you think he didn’t?” said Evelyn, taking a sip of wine.
“The front page of the Globe rather suggests he didn’t,” said Todd, as he passed the paper across to his wife.
Her eyes settled on a photo of a smiling Ted Kennedy standing between Lawrence Lowell and Alex Karpenko. “The bastard,” she said as she read the report of Senator Kennedy’s speech before he opened Elena 3.
“Perhaps it’s time for us to go back to Boston and let everyone know you’ll be voting Republican for the first time,” said Todd.
“That would be lucky to get a mention on page sixteen of the Herald, and wouldn’t come as a surprise to many people. No,” said Evelyn, “what I have in mind for my brother will make the front page of The New York Times.”
* * *
Alex was surprised by how fascinated he became with the whole election process, and how much he enjoyed every aspect of the campaign. For the first time he understood why his father had wanted to be a trade union leader.
He liked the raw contact with the voters on the ground, in the factories, on the doorstep. He reveled in public meetings and was always happy to stand in for Lawrence when the candidate couldn’t be in two places at once.
Most of all, he enjoyed the weekly visits to the capital to be briefed by the party leaders on how the national campaign was going, and what the next policy statement would be. In fact Washington became his second home. He even began to wonder, although he didn’t mention it to Anna, if one day he might join Lawrence in Washington, as the representative for the Eighth Congressional District of New York.
The only thing he didn’t enjoy was the long periods of separation from his fiancée, and he found himself waiting impatiently for her to join him in Boston every weekend. And although the campaign seemed to go on forever, she never once complained.
They’d already set the date for the wedding—for three days after the last vote had been cast—although he hadn’t yet told his mother Anna was pregnant. Dimitri would be best man, Lawrence chief usher, and there were no prizes for guessing who would be in charge of the catering.
* * *
“Do you have photographic proof?” asked Evelyn.
“A dozen or more pictures,” said a voice on the other end of the line.
“And his birth certificate?”
“We had that even before we signed him up.”
“So what happens next?”
“You just sit back, relax, and wait for your brother to withdraw from the race.”
* * *
“The only problem with having you on my team,” said Lawrence, “is how many voters are saying you’d make a far better candidate than me. More people are turning up to hear you speak than ever attend my rallies.”
“But the Lowell family has had a representative in Washington for over a hundred years,” said Alex. “I’m just a first-generation immigrant, fresh off the boat.”
“As are many of my supporters, which is why you’d make an ideal candidate. If you ever decide to stand for anything, from dogcatcher to senator, I’d be happy to support you.”
* * *
Evelyn and Todd boarded a flight back to Nice that afternoon, as they didn’t want to be in Boston when the first editions of the papers hit the streets the next day.
“Did you post the package to Hawksley?” asked Todd, as he fastened his seatbelt.
“Hand delivered it to his headquarters,” said Evelyn. “Couldn’t risk the mail after what they charged me for those photographs.” She smiled as the stewardess offered her a glass of champagne.
“What if Lawrence finds out the truth?”
“It will be too late by then.”
* * *
“But you must get a hundred crank calls every day,” said Blake Hawksley. “Why take this one seriously?” he asked, pointing at a dozen photographs strewn across his desk.
“I don’t get many hand-delivered b
y a smartly dressed woman with a clipped Brahmin accent,” said his campaign manager.
“So what are you advising me to do about it?” asked the Republican candidate.
“Let me share the information with a good contact I have on The Boston Globe, and see what he makes of it.”
“But the Globe always supports the Democrats.”
“Perhaps they won’t after they’ve seen these,” said Steiner, collecting up the photographs and placing them back in the envelope. “Don’t forget their first interest is selling newspapers, and this could double their circulation.”
“When they see them, the first person they’ll call will be me. So what do I say?”
“No comment.”
* * *
Alex read the lead story on the Globe’s front page a second time before he passed the paper to Anna. When she finished the article he asked, “Did you know that Lawrence was gay?”
“Of course,” said Anna. “Everyone did. Well, everyone except you, it would seem.”
“Do you think he’ll have to step down as candidate?” said Alex, looking at the photographs spread across the center pages.
“Why should he? Being gay isn’t a crime. It might even increase his majority.”
“But having sex with a minor is a crime.”
“It was obviously a set-up,” said Anna. “A street hustler who’s fifteen, going on thirty, traps Lawrence, having no doubt been paid handsomely for the part he played. It wouldn’t even surprise me if the Republicans are behind it.”
“Did you see what Hawksley said when the Globe called him?” asked Alex.
“No comment. And you should advise Lawrence to do the same.”
“I don’t think the voters will let him get away with that. I’d better go over to Beacon Hill immediately, before he says something to the press that he’ll later regret.” As Alex got up from the breakfast table he smiled ruefully. “It doesn’t help that he’s addressing the Daughters of the American Revolution at lunch today.”
“Give him my love,” said Anna, “and tell him to tough it out. He might be surprised how sympathetic people are. We don’t all live inside the Washington beltway.”
Alex took Anna in his arms and kissed her. “I got lucky when I stepped onto the wrong train.”
Heads You Win Page 28
