I went into the dining room. The gleaming wooden table sat twelve, but there was only a place setting at the head of it. “Hildie!” I called.
The older woman pushed through the swinging door. “Mrs. Campbell?”
“I’d love a bowl of that borscht.” I forced a grin, trying to ignore the ghost at my shoulder.
“Right away,” she said. “There’s a bottle of Merlot—”
“Yes, perfect.” I sat down and reached for the black napkin that had been folded into a swan and set it across my lap.
Igor took the chair next to me, his gaze unwavering. Thankfully, he remained blessedly silent.
Hildie returned with a bowl of red borscht and a thick slice of dark brown bread. She set the food down in front of me and said, “I’ll get that bottle of wine.”
I smiled up at her. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”
She touched my shoulder in a silent gesture of gratitude and retreated to the kitchen. She came back a moment later, the bottle already uncorked. Hildie poured the wine and when she went to take the bottle back to the kitchen, I said, “Leave it, please.”
Hildie set the bottle down. “Anything else I can get you?”
“No, thank you. You can go home.” Hildie lived on the grounds with her husband in a carriage house that had been converted.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“What about the food? I can put it away before I go…”
“Don’t bother. I’ll do it.”
She paused. “All right,” she said finally. “You’ll call? If you need anything?”
“I will,” I said. “Thank you, Hildie. For … everything.”
Hildie looked like she wanted to say something more, but at the last moment, closed her mouth. She nodded and then quietly disappeared, leaving me alone with my ghost.
I gently set my spoon in the bowl and ladled a small bit of borsht into my mouth.
“Ivan would need a second in command,” Igor said, as if no time had passed. “We’d give him a brother—Alexei.”
I bowed my head and ate.
“And after a few years, when Rose was five, and the boys four and three, we’d have another one.”
My spoon clattered against china, and I glared at him. “Is that how you see me? As your brood mare?”
His brown eyes bored into mine, peering into my rotten soul.
“That day, in the warehouse, if you’d shot Campbell instead of me…do you know what I would’ve done after?” He didn’t wait for me to reply. “I would’ve whisked you away to St. Petersburg where we would’ve dined on fine caviar and champagne. I would’ve had a Fabergé egg commissioned for you and I would’ve taken you to world-class symphonies and wiped the tears from your cheeks as you cried at the beauty of the music.”
“Why me, Igor?” I asked softly.
“Whynotyou, Barrett?”
No longer hungry, I rose from my chair. I grasped the bottle of wine by the neck and walked into the custom designed, state-of-the-art kitchen. The only thing truly modern in this opulent, imperial home.
I went out the back to the covered patio. It was bone-chillingly cold, and the snow hadn’t stopped falling.
The hot tub was covered and already warm. I stood on the wooden steps, lifted the top, and then pressed a button to start the water bubbling.
