by Megan Hart
All their hard work had—well, perhaps not—come to fruition. Not yet. But they were well on the way. The staff had been hired, the menu perfected, the diner redecorated. There were a few glitches to work out, but that was the purpose of the soft opening. Theresa bent over the desk in the tiny diner office to go over her checklist. She was going to forget something, she knew it.
“You okay?” Ilya came up behind her to press a kiss to the nape of her neck in the spot guaranteed to send a thrill all through her. “Nervous?”
Theresa turned to kiss his mouth, her fingers linked loosely behind his neck. “A little. Not too much.”
“You don’t look nervous. You look gorgeous. Like you should be on the menu under dessert.” He nibbled at her neck, making her giggle and twist away from him.
“We’re not alone,” she said. “And, hey, only dessert? I thought I would at least be a full entrée with two sides, including your choice of soup or salad.”
“Super salad. Comes with a cape.” Ilya snorted soft laughter against her skin, but he let her go.
She saw something in his eyes and gave him another kiss. “You’re nervous.”
He broke away from her to pace. “Nah. No need to be nervous. What’s the worst that could happen? We could get a bad review on an Internet site.”
“Hey.” She snagged his elbow until he stopped and faced her. “It’s going to be fine. We got this.”
“I know dick-all about running a diner, Theresa. What the hell made me think I could do this?”
“I did,” she told him honestly. “I made you think you could do this.”
Solemnly, Ilya pulled her closer. “It’s going to be all right. Right?”
“Absolutely.” At the knock on the door, they both turned. “Come in!”
Niko poked his head around the door. “Hey, guys! We’re a little early. Is that cool? We came in the back. The front’s still locked, and the girl out there wouldn’t open up.”
“That’s Britney, and we told her not to open until we gave her the okay. So far, so good.” Theresa eased herself out of Ilya’s embrace to give Niko a hug. “Hey, Alicia. Thanks for coming.”
Alicia had come through after him, and she hugged Theresa, too. After a moment’s hesitation, she also hugged Ilya, but briefly. She looked down at her dress, then laughed. “I was worried I’d be overdressed.”
Theresa did a small twirl to show off her black cocktail gown and heels. “Hey, this is as fancy as this joint might ever get. Might as well do it up for tonight, at least.”
Alicia laughed. “You look great. Are you guys excited? Big night.”
“Big night,” Theresa agreed.
Ilya and Niko, heads together, had gone out of the office already. Alicia and Theresa followed, through the kitchen where Billy, the cook, and his assistant, Hank, were ready in their whites. In the dining room, the new servers, Britney and Sam, waited with order pads in hand, while Betty, who’d been a waitress at the diner for the past thirty years, lounged against the counter and typed on her phone. She was probably the only person here tonight who wasn’t at least a little nervous.
Beyond the glass front doors, Ilya had spread a narrow red carpet. A red velvet rope hung in front of the doors. Beyond that—
“Oh, shit,” Ilya said aloud. “People.”
“Shh. You invited them,” Theresa said. “It’s friends and family, and they’re going to come in here, order some food, and celebrate with us. It’s all going to be great. Deep breath.”
He kissed her. “Let’s do it.”
So, they did it.
Britney, given permission, went ahead and opened the doors. People came in and were handed a hundred dollars in B’s Diner Bucks, fake cash Ilya had printed up for use tonight since all the meals were going to be on the house. Sam, acting as host, asked everyone if they had a reservation and checked their names in the book where Theresa had listed a random selection of their guests in order to simulate a regular night at the diner. Finally, everyone was seated with brand-new menus in front of them, ready to get started.
“It’s all going fine,” Theresa said from behind the lunch counter as Ilya studied the room. “See?”
“My mother’s not here.”
“You invited her, she’ll be here. Do you really think she’d miss it?” Theresa took his hand to squeeze it.
Ilya attempted a smile that didn’t come out looking sincere. “I’m thinking maybe I’m hoping she will.”
“I’m going to check the kitchen, make sure Billy’s got it all under control. It’s unlikely that anyone ordered the liver pudding, but you never know.” It had been one of the more obscure items in Babulya’s recipe box, not particularly Russian and not exactly Jewish, but Ilya had insisted on including it on the menu.
Billy, as it turned out, had everything completely under control, including the liver pudding, which one person had indeed ordered. Theresa checked a few of the steaming pots and gave Hank a thumbs-up at his place on the grill. She’d only been gone a few minutes and pushed out through the swinging doors, expecting to find Ilya just beyond them where she’d left him.
“You’ll never believe it. Someone ordered it. I bet it was . . . Niko . . .”
“Hi, kiddo.”
Theresa stopped, stunned. “Dad. What are you doing here?”
“Ilya invited me,” her father said with a sheepish grin, holding out his hands. “I wanted to be here for your big night.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Galina and Barry had shown up at the same time. Ilya had seen them come through the front doors together. They didn’t look like they were making this a date, and so long as neither of them made a scene, he wasn’t going to complain. He was more relieved than he realized he’d be to see her.
“Mom.” He kissed her cheek, noting the faint scent of perfume and the lipstick she wore. She’d dressed up, and he wasn’t sure why that made him feel sentimental, that she’d made an effort for him, but it did. He shook Barry’s hand. “Glad you could make it.”
Ilya took his mother to Niko and Alicia’s table to take a seat, and Barry excused himself to use the restroom. Ilya, relaxing a little as he looked around at everyone enjoying themselves, decided to play the part of restaurant owner and walk around to make sure everything was all right.
“I don’t want you here!”
Theresa’s voice rang out, turning heads. Ilya’s stomach sank as he turned, already knowing what he’d see. He hadn’t expected Barry to be yanking Theresa’s arm, though, and there was no way he was going to allow that. He crossed the room at a half run to grab the older man’s shoulder and turn him.
“Hey,” Ilya said evenly, “not cool.”
Ilya remembered Barry as a bit of a bully, a hard talker, rough with his words, though not ever his hands. And, like most bullies, when confronted, Barry folded. Now he held up his hands, backing off.
“Sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t tell her I was going to be here. I thought the invitation came from both of you,” Barry said.
Theresa’s head swiveled, her gaze boring into Ilya’s. “I told you,” she said from clenched jaws. “I told you, Ilya. I did not want him here tonight.”
The diner had been filled with the sound of silverware clinking on plates and the low hum of voices, but some of that had silenced at the sound of Theresa’s shout. More became quiet as people noticed the turning stares of those who’d heard her and were looking. Not everyone inside the diner was paying attention, but most of them were.
“Theresa,” Ilya said.
She looked at him, but he wasn’t sure she really saw him. Her gaze was unfocused, bright and hard, and glinting, but it shifted beyond him. She shook her head and tossed up her hands, then turned and went into the kitchen.
“I’ll go,” Barry said.
“Yeah. Go, man. Just go.” Ilya kept his voice low, aware of the curious looks and mutters.
Across the room, he saw his mother standing, looking their way, her expression twisted. Niko was
saying something to her while Alicia had put a hand on Galina’s wrist. To keep her still or urge her forward, Ilya couldn’t tell. He didn’t much care, not in that moment, when everything he’d been working so hard for during the past few months, both in his career and in his life, looked as if it was going to go swirling down the drain. And why? Because he’d told Theresa she could count on him and trust him, and when it came right down to it, he’d fallen short.
Time slowed. In that moment, Ilya knew he’d fucked up. Worse than big time. Maybe for all time.
“Go,” he repeated to Barry, and left everything behind to follow Theresa into the kitchen.
“She went out the back.” Billy jerked a thumb.
Ilya pushed through the back door, searching for her and not finding her immediately. His heart sank, but then a figure shifted in the shadows, and he stepped forward. Reaching, but not quite grasping.
“I told you,” Theresa said. “I told you, Ilya.”
“I thought . . .”
She whirled to face him. It would’ve been easier, somehow, if she’d been crying. Instead, Theresa’s expression was blank. “I trusted you.” The words came out in a low hiss.
Ilya had done his share of hurting women in the past. He’d been on the receiving end of vitriol and accusations. He could not recall ever being on the other end of such a simply perfect expression of disgust.
“I told you I didn’t want him here,” Theresa said in that same low, fiercely contemptuous tone. “I told you not to invite him. You promised me, Ilya. You promised, and I believed you, but you went and did it anyway. And you have no idea what it means. What is going to happen now. What I have to do, Ilya! You have completely fucked with my life!”
He reeled, understanding that he’d messed up, but not the extent of her fury. “He’s your father. I thought he should be here to celebrate with us, Theresa. I’m sorry.”
She didn’t answer him at first. When she did, her voice was so cold and distant that he was shot right back to the past and every other woman he’d loved who’d turned away from him. Ilya squared his shoulders, tightened his jaw. Knowing it was a reaction to what had happened in his past didn’t make a difference.
“You have no idea.”
“So tell me,” he said, desperate. Feeling this could be the end of everything they’d built, all of it turned to ashes with nothing more than a few wrong words.
“I have nothing to say to you right now. Nothing.” She pushed past him and back inside.
She avoided him for the rest of the night, a smile on her face that would have looked natural to everyone else but didn’t fool him. By the time everyone started leaving, shaking his hand and clapping him on the back in congratulations, Ilya’s jaw ached from clenching his teeth, and he’d never wanted a drink more in his life. He had a bottle in the back he’d been saving for after closing, but he no longer felt much like celebrating.
“Mazel tov, as Babulya would’ve said.” Galina hugged him, to Ilya’s surprise. “You did a wonderful job.”
“Thanks.” He looked across the room to where Alicia and Niko were chatting with Theresa. The rest of the staff had been excused. It was time to go home.
“You should not have invited her father.”
Ilya snapped his head around to look at her. “You think?”
“To be honest, I was surprised you wanted me to come. But I was glad to be here. Theresa and her father are estranged, Ilya.” Galina tilted her head, brow furrowing.
“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that?”
Galina hesitated, opening her mouth to speak but closing it without saying anything. She shook her head. Ilya moved closer to her.
“What happened with them?”
“You should ask her that question, not me. It’s not my place to say.” His mother’s glance flicked over his shoulder, and she closed her mouth again.
“No, it’s not your place, Galina,” Theresa said from behind them.
He turned. “Just tell me what the hell’s going on. I’m sorry I invited him. I didn’t know it was going to be such a huge deal.”
He was aware of Niko and Alicia standing behind Theresa, watching. Neither of them looked confused. Alicia, in fact, leaned to murmur something into his brother’s ear, and Niko nodded as though he knew exactly what was going on.
“Her father got her into financial trouble,” Galina said.
Theresa scowled. “This is not your business, Galina!”
“If you won’t tell him, I’m going to. He’s my son!”
“Mom—” Niko began, and was cut off by Ilya saying, “Galina, enough.”
Theresa advanced on his mother, jabbing a finger. “You can shut up. Right now.”
“I won’t shut up! You want to be involved with my son? You have to deal with me! What? You think I don’t know? You might be keeping it a secret from everyone else, but I know.” Galina sneered. “Oh, I see it.”
Ilya caught sight of Alicia’s surprised expression, then her narrow-eyed look from Theresa to him and back again. This wasn’t the way he’d wanted her to find out, but it wasn’t exactly like she had room to judge, he thought. Still, he was ready to shut down Galina’s smug grin.
“Mom, shut up,” Ilya snapped. “Back off.”
Theresa sneered. “Mother of the goddamned year, right? You want me to tell him all about how my father stole my identity so he could open a bunch of credit cards in my name, the debt he ran up so I ended up having to live in my car?”
It all began to fall into place, piece by terrible piece.
“That’s why you were so insistent about making that deal happen, right? The sale. You needed the money,” Ilya accused. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing one step, then another and back. “That’s why you came back around?”
“I came because your grandmother had been good to me, and I wanted to pay my respects when she was passing away.” Theresa’s voice was thick with tears, but she wasn’t crying.
“Sure. Right. That’s why you kept at me to sell. It was all about the money, right? That’s why you stuck around, too. It had nothing to do with . . . with me.” He swallowed hard against the rush of anger and betrayal choking him. Her look of guilt proved him right, and he turned away so he didn’t have to see it again.
“I asked you not to invite him, Ilya, and you did anyway. I thought I could trust you.”
“You want to talk about trust, when you had all this going on, and you never said a word about it to me?” He refused to look at her.
“Why did my dad need that money, Galina? Can you tell me that? Could it have been because he kept sending you money for all these years?”
Ilya tensed. The check from Barry, his mother’s casual dismissal of it. He took a step or two back. “Yeah. That. Why was Barry still sending you money?”
“It was to keep her quiet, wasn’t it? You want to spill some truth tea all over the place, Galina, why don’t we start with that,” Theresa said coldly. “Why don’t you tell everyone exactly why my father ruined my life. For you.”
Ilya had seen his mother in a rage many times, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing her afraid. She shook her head and crossed her arms, but she didn’t speak. Theresa let out a long, low, and humorless laugh that Ilya hated the sound of.
“It was to keep you quiet, wasn’t it,” Theresa said.
Everyone was quiet when she said that.
Ilya broke it. “Quiet about what?”
Galina waved a hand, refusing to speak. Behind him, he heard the murmur of Niko and Alicia muttering something, but he didn’t turn. He didn’t look at Theresa, either.
“What was Barry paying you to keep quiet about, Galina?”
“It was about the pills. It had to be about the pills, right?” Theresa’s voice tore like wet paper.
Alicia stepped up. “Answer her!”
With everyone staring at her, Galina finally looked up, her gaze going to each of their faces while her own expression remained a mixture of defensivenes
s and guilt. Ilya had never seen his mother look like that. For as long as he could remember, Galina had never looked guilty about anything, not even when she was allegedly admitting she was wrong.
“What about the pills?” Alicia demanded, her voice low but fierce. She looked at Theresa. “The ones in the tin that Jenni hid in the crawl space?”
“My father kept his in a tin like that. He probably still does, although he says he’s off them, but I don’t believe him, because that’s what addicts do. They lie. They lie and cheat and steal to cover up their tracks,” Theresa said. “I knew as soon as I saw that tin where she got them.”
“I’m not an addict,” Galina retorted finally. “That was all him, always.”
Ilya shook his head. “What does this have to do with Jenni? What the hell is going on here?”
“Barry got my sister hooked on pain pills, is that what happened? Oh my God, is that why she . . . oh my God.” Alicia’s voice broke, and she buried her face against Niko’s chest.
“Your sister was only supposed to sell them, the stupid little girl! Nobody got her hooked on anything. She did that all by herself. She was only supposed to sell them . . .” Galina let her words trail off.
“To the truckers. Here in the diner. Right here,” Ilya muttered, thinking back to the last night he’d seen Jenni alive. Alicia looked sick to her stomach, and he knew exactly how she felt. “In this fucking diner.”
Galina squared her shoulders and gave each of them a defiant yet somehow weary look. “I would take the pills from the patients in the surgical recovery room. One here, one there. The doctors would prescribe them two pain pills, and I would give them one. Nobody paid attention, and when they were transferred to the floor, they had a whole different schedule for meds. A pill here or there, nothing big, but enough to sell. Barry was in charge of that. He recruited Jenni, a pretty face, all that blonde hair. The truck drivers loved her. They’d pay twice as much for a couple of pills that came from Jenni’s hand.”
“She was on drugs the night she died,” Ilya said. “Because of you. Because of him.”
“I don’t know what happened the night she died. She was asking for more money. Some of the product had gone missing. I don’t know. She was seeing one of the guys who bought from us, and he’d been rough with her,” Galina said in a voice that sounded like she was telling the truth. “Barry was supposed to handle it. I know they argued.”
