by Maggie Marr
“Sebastian, we do not take our brushes out of the art room and we definitely do no run with them!”
He let out a loud whoop and giggled. He skidded toward the music room when his mother appeared in front of him, arms crossed and brows furrowed.
“Sebastian Xavier Franklin, you do what your art teacher says, or no surf camp for you this afternoon.”
Sebastian’s eyes widened. He stopped and quickly turned toward Amelia.
“Apologize.”
Sebastian’s chin dropped and his little lips pulled down into a sad face. “I’m sorry, Miss Amelia.”
“Apology accepted.” Amelia silently mouthed “thank you” to Mrs. Franklin, who’d returned to her seat in the waiting area. Amelia followed Sebastian and Rhapsody toward the art room. She paused beside Ilana. “Remind me after class I need to tell you something.”
“Sure,” Ilana said. Amelia scooted back into the art room for the last five minutes of her final class of the day.
Saturday marked the end of week one, and enrollment had exploded. Word was out that some of L.A.’s best artists were teaching children’s art classes in Venice, and parents were lining up to have their budding little Picassos and Pavlovas and Shakespeares taught by the best.
“Before we go, I need to add violin to Sebastian’s schedule.” Ilana looked up to find Sebastian’s mother standing on the other side of the front desk. Ilana pulled up the class schedule.
“I’m so sorry, but we’re full.”
“I was worried about that. Any chance a new class will open up soon?”
“I can’t say for sure right now. We’re discussing the schedule and possible additions next week.” She glanced up at Mrs. Franklin. “It’s amazing. We really didn’t expect this kind of demand so quickly.”
“It’s the quality,” Mrs. Franklin said, then leaned forward and continued in a whisper, “plus the price. You could charge triple and still be full.” Ilana swallowed. Triple? Hmm, she and Amelia would have to discuss upping class prices before the next session began.
Ten minutes later, Ilana said good-bye to Sebastian and his mother and the rest of the departing students and locked the front door behind them. She headed into the art room, where Amelia stood at the drop sink scrubbing paintbrushes.
“I’m gonna kill that Sebastian,” Amelia said, the smile on her face at odds with her words. She waved her paintbrushes toward the door. “Such a devil. And the girls? They adore him already.”
“Isn’t that always the case? Girls want the boys that are bad for them?”
“Until they don’t. Speaking of good guys, what are you and Devon doing tonight? Amanda wondered if you might want to have dinner. We’re doing a download of last night’s opening.”
Ilana’s cheeks heated. She wasn’t ready to tell Amelia about her family. “I’m not seeing him tonight, actually. Just…I have different dinner plans.”
“Hmm, sounds a little mysterious.”
“Not mysterious…just…Oh! I almost forgot. What did you want to tell me?” Ilana said, thankful to have a plausible way to get Amelia off the topic.
Amelia’s eyes clouded. She set the brushes beside the sink. “I need to go to New York for a month. I have to leave in a week.”
Air burst from Ilana’s lungs and her gut twisted. “Wait…what? Now? Why? How can you go to New York for a month?”
“One of Amanda’s friends has a big gallery in New York and they want to show my work. But they want me to come and do a whole meet the artist sort of thing. Then we’ll go to the Hamptons and—”
“The Hamptons?”
Amelia’s face lit with excitement as she went on. “Right. So I can make an impression on the collectors. Amanda’s going to host a party at her house, and—”
“Wait? So, you’re going to the Hamptons for vacation while I stay here and run the Center?”
The enthusiasm in Amelia’s expression faded. “The trip isn’t a vacation, it’s work.”
“Right.” Sarcasm oozed from Ilana’s voice. “Work. But is it work for four weeks? Or is some of it fun?”
“That’s beside the point. I have to do this for my career. I have an opportunity, a window right now. I have to do this. Besides this will help both of us, because anything that elevates me, elevates the Center.”
“Seriously? You want me to buy that crock of bull you’re selling?”
“Bull?”
“Yes, bull. You don’t need to go to New York and the Hamptons for four weeks, you want to.”
“I do want to. Why should I apologize for that? This is for my career. You knew when we decided to start the Center that my art career came first. We discussed this. We talked—”
“We did not discuss you taking off for a month after we’ve been open a week and we’re booked to capacity so that you can go party in the Hamptons with the rich and beautiful people while I stay here and work my ass off.”
“Oh, I see what this is about.” A mean curve slanted over Amelia’s lips. “I get it now.”
“You get what?”
“You’re pissed because you think I’m ditching you and you’re jealous.”
Ilana crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not jealous. I’m pissed because you didn’t even ask. You just inform me that you’re leaving for four weeks. Like I don’t even deserve a discussion. You didn’t even consider what that does to me or the Center or the classes or—”
“I can’t do this.” Amelia said and grabbed her purse. “Seriously, if you can’t see how hard I’ve worked for this opportunity and what it means then I don’t even want to try to do this.” Amelia threw the strap over her shoulder and stomped out the door.
Chapter 10
The black SUV rolled north on PCH late enough in the day that their speed was fast and consistent. Out the window the sun sank into the Pacific, surrounded by a furious pink sky, ragged with blue and purple. Ilana sighed. She refused to ruminate on her argument with Amelia. Not now. Now Ilana wondered about how her family had been a mere fifteen miles from her and her mother for Ilana’s entire life. Had her mother known this? Had her mother hidden all of this from Ilana?
A tiny dart of pain pierced Ilana’s heart.
Why? She understood hiding from her father. She’d been witness to the fights, the yelling, the screaming, and even the bruises that decorated her mother’s body in the days after. But why hide from her uncle and her aunt and her cousins?
Fear. Fear was the only answer. Fear that this part of the family would let Ilana’s father know where she and her mother were. Fear that her father would show up at the apartment. Fear perhaps that Daddy would take her from her mother and Natalie would never see her daughter again. Fear.
Ilana took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Fear could make you do a lot of things. Fear could make you lie to your closest friends and the people you loved. Yes, it had to be fear.
The SUV turned left off of PCH and onto a driveway bordered with giant palm trees. They wound down and around and closer to the ocean. A mansion rose up in front of them. Her family lived here? Ilana flattened her lips into a thin line. This was wealth. Seeing it made her think back to the days with no electricity and an empty refrigerator and tennis shoes a size too small. To being embarrassed at having to ask Amelia if she could come over for dinner because she hadn’t eaten for a day and a half. And this, these people, this family was only fifteen miles north from where Ilana had endured all those days as a little girl.
The driver pulled to a stop on the circular drive in front of the beachside mansion, hopped out, and opened Ilana’s door. This place felt foreign and strange, somehow a world she couldn’t trust, and yet…this was her uncle’s home. Her aunt and her cousins lived here.
A man in a suit held the front door open for her. Security? Her eyes adjusted to the change in light as she walked in. The huge airy entryway opened straight through the house to palatial windows framing a view of the Pacific.
“Ilana?” A woman’s voice, smooth and soft, w
ith just the faintest hint of a Russian accent.
Tingles bounced through her belly. She turned her head.
Impeccable was the word Ilana’s mother would have used to describe this woman, with her fine, straight, long blonde hair, blue eyes, white pants, perfectly plucked brows, and well-muscled arms.
“I’m your aunt Natasha.”
Ilana extended her hand toward her aunt, but instead the woman stepped forward and folded Ilana into a hug.
“You look exactly like your mother.”
“You knew my mother?” Ilana nearly whispered. Of course her aunt would have known Mama. Perhaps she’d even been at Mama and Papa’s wedding.
Aunt Natasha grasped Ilana’s shoulders. “I have waited for this day. I am”—her eyes filled with tears—“I am so happy that you’re here.”
The sound of footsteps on the marble floor. Ilana turned to her right.
Air burst from her lungs. The man approaching her was…her father?
As he walked toward her, Ilana took a step back, instinctively moving just behind her aunt. Fear sat like ice in her belly. She hadn’t seen Papa in two decades and yet the old dread had come rushing back, just like when she was a little girl. “I… I thought you were in prison!”
The man stopped. The color drained from his face and he took a long, deep breath. “Of course…my God, you wouldn’t even know. I’m not...I’m not your father, I’m his twin, Dimitry.”
Ilana swallowed. How to process all the information, new information, facts and details about people and a life of which until a day before she’d had no knowledge.
“His…twin?”
Uncle Dimitry nodded, his face tight with repressed emotion, You may not have any memories of us.”
This man…her uncle…His face pulled up memories, but they were memories of her father, memories that she’d buried. To see her uncle was like seeing a ghost. Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings.
“We look very much alike.”
She’d been so startled by her uncle’s appearance that she’d barely noticed the four men trailing him. The similarities to their parents showed distinctly, and yet they were their own distinct people, unique combinations from different throws of the DNA dice.
Dimitry swept his arm out in a gesture encompassing them all. “Your cousins.”
Her gaze locked on one cousin. Tall and with a careless slouch to his shoulders. “I recognize you,” Ilana whispered. She shouldn’t be surprised—Malibu and Santa Monica and Venice were basically interconnected small towns. “You were at Amelia’s opening at the Legend Gallery.”
He nodded, and a small smile spread over his face. “I’m Nikita. Everyone calls me Nik.”
“Did you know…did you know it was me?”
A sheepish look took over his face. “I wasn’t certain. I knew of you, and I knew what you looked like, and that you were in Venice.” He glanced toward his father. “I didn’t think that was an appropriate place to approach you.”
Ilana breathed deep. No, last night wouldn’t have been the time to publicly announce that he was her cousin and she had a family. Her uncle’s call had been unnerving enough. All of this…her gaze drifted from Nik to his three brothers, standing beside him.
“Cousin, I am Alexi.” The man standing next to Nik was a hair shorter than him, with blue eyes and sun-kissed hair.
The other two men looked…the same.
“Twins run in our family,” Dimitry said. “Max and Vladislav.”
One walked over and wrapped his strong arms around her in a hug, a quick, warm smile on his face. “Good to finally meet you, cuz. I’m Max, and I’m the fun twin. That guy? He’s the serious twin.”
Vladislav walked toward her, and his pensive expression turned to a smile. “Don’t believe everything you hear.” He gave her a quick hug too. “We’ve waited a long time for today.”
Ilana’s heart flipped in her chest. They’d known about her. All of them had been aware that she existed, while she’d had no idea that an entire family of her relatives lived up the coast. Had they known how close she was? That she and her mother were in Venice, a mere fifteen miles away from their home in Malibu?
“I see lots of questions in your eyes,” Uncle Dimitry said. He gently touched her elbow. “First we eat together, as a family. We have much to learn about each other.”
*
They ate dinner outside, near the ocean.
“My God, you look so much like them.” Her uncle lifted his wine and took a long sip. “I’ve waited so long for this day.”
“Why?” Ilana finally asked. “Why the wait?” They’d talked about everything else. She’d learned that her cousins worked in the family business, which was import-export and shipping and oil. She’d learned, from what they told her, that they were each wildly successful in their own right. She’d learned that her aunt had her own cosmetic business. But she hadn’t learned why she had known none of this until tonight.
Silence followed her question. A sudden and marked silence, as everyone paused and looked at Dimitry.
“Because it was your mother’s wish.”
Ilana’s throat closed tight and her heart heaved. Her mother? Her mother had wanted to keep Ilana away from her father’s family? Even when she’d known she was dying and leaving Ilana alone in the world, she’d never mentioned that Ilana might find love and comfort and family in Malibu.
Heat flooded Ilana’s eyes. Her gaze swept around the table. Why would Mama keep her from this place that seemed safe and happy, that was bringing her joy…“Excuse me.” Ilana stood. She quickly walked toward the house, head bent and her fingers pressed to her eyes. She wouldn’t cry in front of these people. They were family, but she barely knew them.
She closed herself into the bathroom and plucked a tissue from the silver holder. How embarrassing to lose herself to her emotions. She’d gone through running from her father and hiding her past, she’d survived Mama’s long illness, but now, this, finding a family that she hadn’t even known existed, seemed to undo her. Why? She turned to the mirror. She looked like them. The eyes. Her eyes were just like her uncle’s eyes, which meant they had to be just like her father’s eyes, too. A man she hadn’t seen since she was six years old. A man who’d been the monster in her closet, the boogeyman under her bed, the person she and her mother were constantly guarding against.
“Ilana?”
Her uncle’s voice. She pressed her fingertips under her eyes and then opened the bathroom door.
She gasped as the extraordinary resemblance hit her again.
Uncle Dimitry really did look just like her father. She’d found three pictures of her father when she’d gone through her mother’s things: one of him in a suit, young and single, looking handsome and happy; a wedding picture of him and her mother; and finally a photo of the three of them together, as a family, Ilana an infant in her father’s arms. The man in front of her could have been a snapshot of what that younger man would look like a quarter-century later.
“I’m sorry,” Ilana said, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.
“Please, this…this is a great deal to take in, and not so very long after your mother’s death. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
Ilana swallowed. Her gaze swept out the windows toward the vast and unknowable ocean, where darkness settled upon the sea.
“Come upstairs, into my study. We’ll have coffee and discuss all that you should want to hear.”
Settled in her uncle’s study, Ilana lifted her coffee cup and took a sip. “You said it was my mother that didn’t want me to know about you.”
Dimitry picked up his own cup. “It was a mutual decision really, made between myself and your mother. A decision made for your safety.”
“My safety?”
“Neither of us wanted you to be raised by your father.”
Her heart beat faster. She’d known her father was abusive, and had broken the law, but for his own brother to say this…She sank back into the
thick sofa cushions.
“I love my brother. I will always love my brother, but he has many demons that torture his soul.” Dimitry set his coffee cup on the table. “You know, I was at their wedding. Have you seen pictures?”
“Just one.”
“Ah. I was the best man and your aunt was the matron of honor.” He rose and walked toward the bookshelf, where he took a framed picture down. He walked to her and handed the photo toward Ilana. “The wedding was small. At the courthouse. We’d just arrived from Russia not long before. Young and broke and in love.”
A tiny smile flitted across Ilana’s face. Her parents and her aunt and uncle looked so young, so happy, so alive. The joy in Mama’s face, and even Papa’s. “They look happy.”
“They were happy. They were very, very happy…for a while.”
Dimitry returned to his chair. “Your father, there was the alcohol and…”
Her uncle’s words drifted away, as though he didn’t wish to say more. Ilana looked up from the photo. “What? What was it?”
“There were…there were other desires that he indulged. Ambitions.” His eyebrow lifted. “Your father wanted success, success measured by money, no matter what he had to do to earn it.” He glanced across the room, past Ilana, as though he watched the ghosts of his memories projected on the wall. “My business wasn’t earning quickly enough for your father, so he took a different path than the one I’d chosen.”
“And now he’s in prison.” A cold tone. She rarely spoke of the man she didn’t know, but yet to whom she was irrevocably linked.
“And he is dying.”
Ilana, tore her gaze from the picture in her hands to look at Dimitry, seeking confirmation of what he’d just said.
“He is very ill. They do not believe that he will survive much longer.”
Ilana’s mouth dropped open and fear, cold and hard, lodged in her heart. She finally had the answer to her question, why now?
“That’s why you’ve been trying to find me. You…you want me to go and see him.”
