“That is not all he is teaching you.”
The sentence has no inflection. I can’t tell if she has any opinion on my training—if she approves or disapproves.
“Weak men prefer weak women.”
The steady threading stops, and I worry she’s taken my observation the wrong way. That she thinks it’s a reference to her and Igor, or to Aleksandr and Victoria.
But then Elena nods, and I swear I see something similar to approval appear. Of me? Doubtful. But at least I managed to do something to impress the woman who, I realize suddenly, is my mother-in-law. I have a mother-in-law.
“That has been my experience as well,” she states.
I smile, appreciating the moment of kinship. It never occurred to me Elena might be an ally—she seemed as cold as Igor. Now I wonder if I’m looking at a future Lev saved me from. Carina Morello wouldn’t have been capable of running five miles or loving her husband.
“Well, I’ll let you enjoy your evening.” I take a step toward the door.
“You can stay if you wish. I do not often have company when I’m here.”
When she’s here? The Sokolovs could clearly afford a second home, but I assumed Elena always lived at Serebryanovo. For security reasons, if nothing else. Apparently not. I wonder if her current presence is because of the attack, same as Aleksandr and Victoria and Ilya.
“Usually, I listen to music, but the player is broken,” Elena adds.
I’m anxious about continuing the conversation and unintentionally saying or doing something to lower Lev’smother’s opinion of me, but I swallow my nerves and take the seat to her left. It’s a plush armchair, the smooth fabric silky against my bare arms.
“What sort of music do you like to listen to?” I ask, seizing on a topic I might have some knowledge of.
“Mostly classical. Tchaikovsky, Mussorgsky, Prokofiev.”
I nod eagerly, familiar with all three. “The ‘Swan Theme’ fromSwan Lakeis one of my favorite pieces. I spent the summer before starting middle school learning it. The bow control is difficult since you have to master the crescendo and decrescendo. Third position is also …” I clear my throat, recollecting the bored expression most people wear when I delve into music specifics. “I like classical music too.”
I glance at Elena, who’s steadily sewing.
“Have you been to the Moscow Conservatory?” I ask.
“Many times.” A pause. “You?”
“Once.”
“You met Lev in Chicago?”
I suspect this is another test to see if I’ll share the truth, but it could also be an educated guess. Elena knows her son. Lev isn’t impulsive or impetuous. Him protecting me makes more sense if we had an existing acquaintance predating our fathers’ plans. Or maybe she spoke to Maksim.
“Yes.”
“He stayed there more than he should have. I suppose now I know why.”
“We never spent more than a night together. Lev takes his job very seriously.”
I sound more defensive than I meant to, but the insinuation Lev was in Chicago for me chafes, especially when I think about all the times I woke up alone. I woke up alone, again, this morning, so the reminder feels especially raw.
His work will always come first, and I’ve accepted that. It doesn’t mean I like it.
“He does,” Elena agrees. “He also takes you very seriously.”
“I think you’re misunderstanding.”
For the first time, Elena smiles. It’s a small one, tiny lifts in the corner of her lips, but it’s unmistakable. “I think you are, Carina.” She reaches down into the basket by her feet, withdrawing more fabric, which she holds out to me. “I will teach you to embroider, if you would like.”
I take it. “I would.”
