"No, we don't really talk about it." Sofi takes a long drink of wine and sets the glass down. Now she's starting to slow down and act off. She narrows her eyes at me. "Why are you asking all of this? Mama said this dinner was supposed to be about getting to know each other. Not an interview about her."
"It is about getting to know you. Your mother raised you. That's part of who you are." My justification is weak, but she doesn't seem to be a very intelligent woman. Maybe I'm being harsh, but she has a lot of growing up to do.
"I suppose." She twists her fork and purses her lips as her head cocks to the side. "What about your mother? Fair is fair."
"My mother died when I was twelve."
"Oh," she says, and her voice drops. "I'm sorry."
"It was a long time ago. Your father?"
Sofi's eyes go wide, and her color fades a little as she looks down at her plate and seems to shrink inwardly. "He died when I was seven. I think a heart attack, but I'm not supposed to talk about it." She clears her throat and sets her fork down, and I know I'm finally on to something.
No one has said thing one about the girls' father, if it was Mr. Koval, or if he adopted them, and what happened to him. It might be a good place to start.
Roman: 7:45 PM: Find out who Vera married before Radin.
This message is sent discreetly as Sara clears the first course and brings out lamb and potatoes for our main course. She offers a confused expression as she removes my plate, and I give her a stern look that tells her not to ask why I'm not eating. Then I serve Sofi, and she accepts the plate and leans over it, breathing in.
"This smells incredible," she says. "Sara, this is incredible."
Sara nods from the doorway and disappears into the kitchen, and I notice Sorin is gone now too. And Mila looks like she's ready to fall asleep.
"Do you cook?" Sofi asks me, sawing into the lamb with her knife.
But I'm busy checking for a response from my brother. It's killing me not knowing more about this family. Stringing them along in hopes they believe my line about marrying one of these women will quickly become too much to deal with. I already know my choice and I should be focusing on making Mila mine, not wining and dining her stepsisters.
But that part about Vera pushing Mila right in front of me is still gnawing at me. I feel like a dog with a bone. I can't let it go.
"You're on your phone a lot," Sofi says, cutting through a piece of lamb. "Am I boring you?"
"Not at all, why would you say that?"Busted. I clench my jaw as I offer a fake smile.
"Then put it away." She points her fork at me and there's oil on the tines. "It's rude."
"It's business."
"It's dinner." She sets her fork down and picks up her wine glass. "Mama would lose her mind if she saw you texting at the table. She has rules about that. No phones, no business, no excuses." She takes a drink and holds the glass against her chin, watching me. "Are you always this distracted when you have company?"
"Only when the company talks enough for both of us."
She laughs and sets the glass down. "Fair enough. But I mean it, put the phone away. I came all the way here and you're not even looking at me half the time."
I set the phone down on my thigh and give her my full attention for a ten count while she finishes her lamb and tells me about a restaurant in Kazan that served the best pelmeni she's ever eaten. Her hands move the entire time she speaks and her bracelets knock together with each gesture.
And when my phone buzzes, I can't fight the urge to check it.
Timur: 7:52 PM: There's another name. Before Koval. Vera Volkov. Same birthdate, same city of origin. Name change happened six months before she married the first husband.
I read it twice and put my phone into my pocket and grit my teeth. The muscles between my shoulder blades tighten and I stare at my plate blankly. Vera was born a Volkov, and she didn't just change her name for marriage to Mr. Koval or Mr. Radin. She had a husband previous to that, making three total, and she changed her name before she ever got married.
Why would she do that?
"Hey," I hear, and I look up to see Sofi standing over me. When I realize how tense I am, I relax my shoulders, but it's short lived as she slides herself right onto my lap, draping her arms around my shoulders. I catch Mila's eyes go wide, and her cheeks burn pink with the anger she's masking as I rest my hand on Sofi's thighs. "I said, put that away. Pay attention to me."
If it weren't such an intimate position, I'd have a few choice words for her being so direct, but I bite back those words as I rest my hand in the small of her back.
"Sofi."
