by Laura Hart
They slept still entwined and made love again in the morning.
They found Anna at the breakfast table waiting for them. “Good morning, sleepyheads,” she greeted them. “I thought you were going to skip breakfast and go right for lunch.”
“Behave yourself, Anushka,” scolded Max fondly as he kissed the top of her head. He pulled out his phone to coordinate with his father and then ate his breakfast listening to the two women chatter.
“Mama wanted me to ask you if you were going to be here for dinner tonight.”
“Probably. Tell her I’ll call if the plans change.”
He gathered a few things and left, leaving the two women still at the table.
“Is there anything in particular you want to do?” Anna asked.
“You’re the expert here, although I might like to look for a few gifts to take back.”
“Okay. I know just where to start. Also, I thought we’d take the metro so we don’t have to fight the traffic. Is that all right?”
“Sure. The onboard magazine said that the stations were worth looking at, so we can kill two birds with one trip.”
An hour later Sadie was standing deep underground with her mouth half open as she looked around in amazement. “Are you kidding me? This is a metro station?” The floor was multi-colored marble, there were rows of columns in either marble or covered in detailed bronze work, and there were chandeliers not only over the central passenger walkway but also all along over the train tracks. Chandeliers hanging over the trains, for god’s sake! The most amazing thing, though, was that it was gleaming and pristine and resembled a room in a palace.
Just then the sound of an approaching train could be heard, and as it slid to a stop, Sadie could see that the train too was polished and pristine. Anna had to give her a little push to remind her they were boarding the train.
“My god that’s weird,” she said once they were on. “It’s like a train arriving in your living room, except it’s a royal living room. Are all the stations like that one?”
“No, each one is different, and some are more ornate than others. Lately they’ve been adding really contemporary ones. We can get on and off at a few if you want so you can see them.”
They did exactly that, giving Sadie a chance to see everything from ornate baroque to colorful contemporary that resembled a nightclub.
“How in the world do they keep them so clean and sparkly?” she asked, still not quite believing what she was seeing. The last station they’d checked out had been like something from Salzburg, with white baroque-style moldings on yellow walls and equally ornate chandeliers.
Anna shrugged. “Just regular cleaning.”
“But there’s no graffiti or trash.”
“Well, no. That would be like dirtying your own cage.”
Finally, Anna said, “Okay, this is our stop. Let’s go.” Once at street level, she led Sadie to a store called Au Pont Rouge, which was divided into smaller stores inside. With Anna’s help, Sadie located a Russian cookbook in English for Shanna, a beautiful peasant shawl for Harmony, and a book about Maxim Gorky that she was sure her father would like. She also found some interesting teas and bought some for both Harmony and Shanna.
“Okay, business is done,” she announced to Anna. “Now, we can do whatever you want.”
“I’m ready for a little something,” Anna replied. “There’s a nice outdoor café not far from here. What do you think?”
“I’m always up for a little something,” replied Sadie, her eyes dancing in anticipation.
They settled at a table that allowed them a bit of privacy while still having a great view for people watching. As Sadie had felt on their first meeting, the two of them got along famously. Anna was one of those women who sometimes made Sadie wish she’d had a sister. They lingered for a long time, talking and laughing like two friends who’d known each other for years.
Neither noticed the figure lurking on the sidewalk nearby snapping pictures of them.
I’ve Loved Everything
The days flew by. Max worked with his father many mornings and then spent the rest of his time with Sadie, sharing the riches of the city with her. He took her on an evening cruise of the Neva River, allowing her an unobstructed view of the architectural gems that lined the banks. Another day they returned to the Winter Palace, where she marveled at the ornate richness of Imperial Russia.
He got them tickets to the ballet in the famous Mariinsky Theater, and another night the entire family attended a performance of the St. Petersburg Philharmonic, where Sadie exclaimed over the hall itself with its ivory marble interior, red walls, red and gold carpeting, and huge chandeliers.
“We have a special invitation this afternoon,” Max said to Sadie one morning after breakfast. “My grandmother would like us to come for tea.”
“I thought she was traveling.”
“She’s back now. You know, usually in Russian families the generations live together, but she has her own apartment.”
“Why?”
“The apartment she has now was owned by our family before the revolution. After we came back, my grandfather, whose father had actually lived there when he was young, tracked it down and bought it. It’s not the whole apartment as it was originally, but it was still very important to him and still is to my grandmother, mostly because it was so important to my grandfather.”
“Where was she born?”
“In Switzerland. That’s where my grandparents met and married.”
“You know, it seems like your family is more Swiss than Russian.”
Max smiled and shrugged. “In a legal sense, you’re probably right, but keep that thought to yourself. The family heart is Russian through and through.”
“So does your grandmother want to show me the apartment? Is that why we’re going?”
“Not really. She wants to make tea for you the old-fashioned way, in a samovar.”
“Really?” It was almost a squeal. “Did she know we talked about samovars before?”
“I may have mentioned it,” he answered with a small smile.
She came and wrapped her arms around him. “This is the best trip I’ve ever made. Everything here is just so cool.”
“I thought you were a confirmed beach girl.”
“Well, I am, but I don’t even miss it while I’m here.”
“Good to know,” he said as he leaned down and kissed her.
* * *
When the door opened, Max hugged the elderly woman tightly and kissed her on the cheek. Then he stepped back. “Grandmother, I’d like to present Sadie Duval. Sadie, this is my grandmother, Irina Pavlovna.”
“How do you do, my dear. It’s such a treat to meet Max’s girl.”
Sadie ignored the use of the word ‘girl’ and replied politely, “How do you do, Mrs. Orlov. I’m really happy to be here.”
They moved into the apartment, which was bright and spacious but decorated more traditionally than was Max’s parents’ home.
“This is beautiful,” commented Sadie as she looked around. “And you can see the river, too.”
“Thank you, darling,” replied Irina Pavlovna, looking pleased.
Sadie gave her the book they’d brought for her and then followed the grandmother into the dining room. The table was laid for tea, including a large samovar at one end of the table.
“Max tells me you’re already somewhat familiar with samovars.”
“Yes, ma’am. I traveled in Bulgaria a bit with my father. He was always sorry later that he hadn’t bought one to put in his office.”
“I usually keep the samovar on the sideboard, but I moved it over here so you could see how I’m going to make the tea. Maka, could you please add the water.”
“Of course, Baba.” Max picked up a large bottle of water and filled the inside of the samovar. As he did, he explained to Sadie, “Babushka prefers water from the country for her tea. She claims it’s tastier, and she’s probably right.” He smiled indulgently at his
aging grandmother. “She has people bring her several bottles of country water every week.”
“Traditionally coal was used for the fire,” continued the grandmother, “but very often now we use wood kindling.” She selected several small pieces of wood from a large copper pot on the floor and laid them on the table. Max took them one at a time, used a lighter to light the end of each, and then stuffed them down into the central pipe in the samovar. Then he replaced the top, which had an opening over the pipe so the fire could get air.
The grandmother smiled at Sadie. “Now, we’ll visit while the water comes to a boil. Tell me about yourself, darling.” Her English was good, but there was the hint of an accent that was missing with Max’s immediate family.
“There’s not much to tell,” Sadie started. “I come from an ordinary family. My father’s a professor of humanities, my stepmother is a professor of childhood education, and my mother is a free spirit who dabbles in just about everything.”
Max smiled and nodded at this last sentence, and the grandmother said, “Well, that sounds like there are some stories there.”
Max immediately added, “I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned, Sadie, that Russians love to hear stories.”
“Well, we could tell her the story of how we met.”
The grandmother immediately wanted to hear it, so once again the tale of the stolen bag was repeated. “Well done, Maka!” exclaimed the grandmother with enthusiasm when the story was done.
Max chuckled. “Thank you, Baba.”
“What does ‘baba’ mean?” asked Sadie.
“It’s an affectionate form of Babushka,” replied Max. “You know what that is?”
“It means grandmother, right?”
Just then the grandmother announced that the water was hot enough. She opened a box of tea leaves, scooped six heaping spoonfuls into a large teapot, and then put the pot under the samovar’s small spigot and filled it with hot water.
“Now we’ll just let it steep a minute or two. Meanwhile, why don’t we try some of these delightful little cakes?” She passed a plate of eye-pleasing small confections to Sadie, who asked, “How old is this samovar?”
“I don’t know exactly. My family brought it out of Russia with them back in 1919, so it’s obviously from the czarist era.”
“That’s so cool. Your family was making tea with this while the czar’s family was riding in coaches in the avenues.”
“Indeed, they were. Samovars are a symbol for us of the social connection of family and friends, so this was very precious to my family while we lived in Switzerland.”
The elderly lady took a thin porcelain cup and poured some of the strong black tea into it. “Do you like your tea strong or not so much?” she asked looking at Sadie. It immediately made Sadie remember that first visit to Max’s shop in the Galleria when she’d been served tea ever so properly.
“Not too strong, thank you.” The grandmother put the cup under the spigot and added some hot water, then put it on a saucer. “What would you like in it?”
“Two sugars, please,” replied Sadie, admiring the beautiful porcelain set on the table.
Grandmother fixed a cup for Max and one for herself, and then she set the teapot on top of the samovar’s central pipe where the fire had been. “That will keep it nice and warm,” she explained.
“Thank you so much for showing me how to use the samovar right.”
“You’re quite welcome, my dear. It’s such a special pleasure to have Max bring his young woman here. You know, young people today go off and live their lives quite independently, very much different from days gone by.”
“Baba, you know you’ll always be in my life,” responded Max.
After tea, the grandmother answered Sadie’s questions about many of the traditional items in her apartment, but after another hour, Max announced that they needed to take their leave. “Papa has made reservations for all of us at L’Europe,” he explained. “Wouldn’t you like to join us, Baba?”
“No, Maka. Your papa already asked, but I’m still a bit tired from traveling.”
As they were saying their goodbyes, the grandmother pressed something into Sadie’s hand. “A small remembrance of your visit to St. Petersburg.”
Sadie looked and saw a small carved figure out of amber. “Oh, no, Mrs. Orlov, I couldn’t take this. It looks valuable.”
“And that makes it a perfect gift. I may be an old lady, but my eyes still work perfectly well, and I can see the way my Maka looks at you. It’s obvious you have great value in his eyes, and that’s good enough for me.” She hugged Sadie and said, “Please come again.”
“Thank you so much for everything.”
As they went to their car, Max put his arm around her. “Now you’ve been initiated into the world of Russian babushkas. They hold a very special place in our hearts. If you want to start a fight, just insult someone’s grandmother.”
* * *
David had returned from Moscow, so there were six of them that evening at the L’Europe, St. Petersburg’s most famous—and Russia’s oldest continuously-serving—restaurant. It didn’t fail to evoke the same response of awe that had been Sadie’s companion the whole trip.
“My god, it’s gorgeous in here,” she exclaimed as they were shown to their table. Imperial splendor blended flawlessly with art nouveau, leaving her feeling as if she were a character in a twenties movie.
“This was the place to be seen in the final days of the czar,” explained Max’s mother. “The aristocracy gathered here nightly.”
“Maybe your family was here.”
Max smiled. “We weren’t aristocracy. We were comfortable but still of the merchant class.”
“But would they have let you in?”
He shrugged. “I suppose. I never really thought about it.”
Yet again Sadie thought how fun it was to be part of a big family, especially one as lively as Max’s. They all got along so well, and everyone seemed to have opinions on current events, books, the arts, and much more. It was dizzying but in a delicious way. She particularly liked the terms of endearment they called each other so naturally.
Max’s father had ordered a six-course gourmet menu for the entire table, and as Sadie watched the dishes arrive, each paired with a perfect wine partner, she was really glad that she’d not stuffed herself at the grandmother’s.
They started with an egg cup filled with truffles and scrambled egg and served with caviar on the side. Then came smoked sturgeon followed by borscht, Romanov-style crab, and finally prime beef tenderloin. It was all followed by the restaurant’s signature dessert, Grand Hotel Europe Bombe glacée.
They stayed for several hours, enjoying the elegant environment, the exquisite food, and the lively camaraderie. Sadie truly had never experienced such a happy convergence.
Max’s father leaned towards her. “So, my dear, is your trip so far meeting your expectations?”
“No, sir. It’s so much more that it’s not even close. I expected to like most of it, but I’ve loved everything. The city, the people, your family—it’s all fantastic.”
Was Sadie imagining things, or had Max and his father exchanged a furtive glance? Oh, well, tonight she was too happy—and full—to even care.
In Russian style, it was vodka that was ordered so a final toast might be made.
“To Sadie,” said Max’s father as he held his glass towards their visitor. “May this be only the first of many trips to St. Petersburg.”
She Would Rue Her Words
“What do you think?” Max’s father asked, handing him a one-of-a-kind ring the head designer had been working on for several weeks now.
Max took it and turned it in the light, watching how the exquisitely cut raised diamond sparkled. His experienced eyes studied the design of the platinum setting, a creative blending of classical and modern. “It’s perfect,” he said finally. “Now we have to do the presentation.”
His father nodded and took the ring back. “The
box can be ready by Friday.”
Just then an assistant entered with an envelope. “This was delivered by courier.”
Max’s father thanked him and took the envelope. “Let’s have some tea,” he said to Max. He slit open the flap and carried it unopened into his office and asked that tea be brought to them.
They were both pleased with the ring that was finally finished. After all, the House of Orlov had a reputation to uphold, and this ring was of premier importance to them.
Alexsander Ivanovich leaned back in his chair and looked with satisfaction at his son. He knew that Max was indispensable to their North American operation, but he missed him when he wasn’t here. Ah well, no point in wishing for things that weren’t possible. He picked up the manila envelope and slid out the contents.
Suddenly his face changed. He stared at the first page, then looked at five additional ones, his face becoming more and more outraged.
“Papa, what is it?” demanded Max urgently. He’d rarely seen his father’s face look so dark and ominous.
With a string of expletives that mixed German with Russian, Alexsander Ivanovich handed the papers to Max, whose eyes grew wide as he saw the contents for himself. Sadie! There were two pictures of his beautiful Sadie taken with her sitting outdoors with Anna, the two of them laughing. He looked at the next photo and saw her standing on the river embankment, her hair blowing in the summer breeze. The last three pictures showed her walking alone down a street, taking photos by a canal, and standing together with Max, his arm around her.
“Where the hell did these come from?” he demanded roughly.
“You saw it. A courier brought them.”
They looked at each other in great consternation. There was no doubt in either man’s mind who was behind the pictures and what the unspoken message was: Look at your beautiful girlfriend. See how vulnerable she is.
