“I called Boris this morning, and he gave me the recipes for the cabbage rolls and the dumplings, sharing some tips he uses in the kitchen,” I explain to Ivan while pointing out the rest of the food.
“You spent the whole day making all of this?” Ivan looks at me with surprise on his face.
“What else am I going to do? I’m stuck here with nothing to do,” I tell him, putting a cabbage roll and some dumplings on a plate. I add a dollop of sour cream to the side.
“If you weren’t here, where would you be?” Ivan asks, finishing his bowl of stew before piling some dumplings onto his plate. He must have really enjoyed it, because he practically inhaled what I gave him.
“I’m not sure. I’d probably be working and visiting Gran if she were still alive,” I tell him.
“How did you come to be a waitress?” he asks.
“I needed the money. My parents died last year, and Gran needed help because she became more sick,” I start explaining. “I had to drop out of school because there wasn’t enough money left after my parents died to continue my studies, and Gran needed me more.”
“What were you going to school for?”
“I was majoring in food science. I want to eventually start a non-profit that helps improve food quality for the homeless population or be involved with a foundation that works to improve food quality for those in lower economic circumstances,” I explain to him.
“Very ambitious,” Ivan remarks.
“I guess I’m an ambitious girl.” I shrug.
“My housekeeper would be jealous if she could smell this. It reminds me of my childhood in Russia,” Ivan says.
“You were born in Russia?” I ask him. I’m a little shocked he’s sharing something so personal. I like it.
“Yes. I am the only one of my brothers born in Russia. My parents moved us here when I was three-years-old,” he explains.
“I see. Where did you go to school?”
“Boston University. I finished in three years and then joined the military. My father thought it would be good for me to get some training before taking over the family business,” Ivan explains, but I sensed some hesitation.
“Did you not want to do that?” I question.
“I’m glad that I did it, even if I didn’t want to do it at the time. When my military service was over, I went back to school for an MBA and then started integrating into the family business so I could take over from my father.”
“Now you’re the man in charge,” I tell him. I put some butter on another slice of soda bread and take a bite. I want to keep him talking so I can learn more about him.
“It’s something I always knew that I would do, but I thought I’d have more time. Then last year, my father decided to retire and hand everything over to me.”
“What exactly do you do, Ivan?” I ask him.
“Real estate development,” he says, mildly avoiding the question.
“Okay,” I tell him. I don’t know how many real estate developers can infiltrate a kidnapping and take all of them out, so clearly he’s hiding something. I stand up from the kitchen island and take my dirty dishes to the sink.
“What are you doing?” Ivan asks me as he also stands from the kitchen island.
“Cleaning up. What else would I be doing?” I shrug and return to the sink. There’s honestly not much to clean up as I was cleaning up while cooking.
“Sit down and I will clean,” Ivan insists. He takes the sponge out of my hand slowly while looking me in the eye. I’m a little surprised because Ivan doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would clean his own dishes, let alone someone else’s.
I find some glass containers for leftovers and pack up the parts of the meal that we didn’t eat. I put the rest of the pots and pans next to the sink and then finish putting the leftovers away.
When Ivan is done with the dishes, he makes us both a cup of coffee and we sit together to enjoy the shortbread cookies.
“These are delicious,” Ivan says around a mouth full of shortbread. It’s kind of cute and funny how some crumbs fall out of his mouth and try to stick to his chin stubble.
“Thank you,” I tell him, taking a bite out of a cookie.
