Page 75 of The Promise

But she offered nothing more, and quickly went back to the food on the stove. They weren’t in the Yazov mansion anymore, but Masha still couldn’t view herself as Karine’s equal even if she wished that wasn’t the case.

Shaking the wisps of sadness off, Karine turned her attention on Roman’s mother. “Thank you, Claire. Meditating is helping. And good food, too.”

Claire joined her at the table with a laugh. “Good food helps with everything. As long as it’s not Russian food—just don’t tell any of the men that. They might feel some kind of way about it.”

Karine shared her smile.

And made a mental note.

Masha continued to cook breakfast, standing with her back turned to them and barely even making an effort to stay in the conversation. Not that Claire would mind if she did join in, but it was what it was.

“Michelle certainly seems to know what she’s doing, doesn’t she?” Claire asked, reaching for the sugar and milk dishes between them to pull them closer to her steaming mug of coffee. “As long as it’s working for you, that’s what counts.”

“I tried getting Masha to do it with me, but she didn’t want to.”

Masha threw an embarrassed smile and short laugh over her shoulder, murmuring in reply, “I have work to do, laundry and cooking and—”

“Don’t worry, Masha, I get it. I didn’t really want to do it, either.”

“Sounded a bit out there?” Claire asking, arching a brow.

Karine shrugged. “I mean, at first? Yeah.”

“It requires a lot of skill and discipline, more than people realize, and it’s definitely not for everyone. But, that also makes it quite an achievement that you’ve been able to pick it up, and you enjoy doing it,” Claire added.

Compliments were a strange thing to Karine, but she had heard more praise in these two weeks than ever before in her entire life. Self-confidence wasn’t as odd of a concept to her, but it was just as unknown and out of reach.

Until now.

She was learning.

“Thank you,” Karine replied, blushing into the sugar Claire handed over for her to add to the coffee in front of her.

Masha brought over a plate of scrambled eggs with mushroom and spinach, sliding it in front of Karine as she smiled and said, “Just how you like it.”

“The way you make them,” Karine corrected the woman. “I just like the way you make them, Masha.”

For a split second, the two women couldn’t break their stare. Claire remained silent across the table, not drawing an eye to her, but Karine felt her curious stare all the same.

“I know,” Masha eventually said, her voice still soft. “Just the same, Karine. Eat up.”

As fast as Masha was to leave the table, Karine didn’t have time to consider the exchange for long before Roman’s mother said, “Yes, eat—you’ll need the energy.”

Well, that had all of her attention.

“Why?”

Claire winked, and pointed a manicured nail Karine’s way. “I was thinking we could do something together today. I spoke to Roman about it, and he agreed it might be a good idea. Maybe we could go to the local farmer’s market in the village.”

Karine couldn’t believe what she had heard.

Back in Chicago, her father would never have suggested something like that—so public. He never encouraged her interest in the world outside of the one he curated for her, and a part of her maybe understood why. Not that she liked it. Someone else had always shopped for her, or he had personal shoppers visit the mansion so Karine could choose what she wanted on the rare event she was allowed to for a special occasion.

As curious and hopeful as she felt, the buzz brought on by Claire’s own excitement at having a day away from the lodge, Karine was still hesitant.

“I’ve never been to a farmer’s market before,” she admitted.

“Oh, you’ll love it,” Claire said with a wave of her hand before sipping on her coffee. Setting it back down to the table, she added, “You’ll find something different at every vendor’s table. Lots of handmade treasures—art, certainly. Lots of lovely things to sample and buy, and interesting people to talk to. But only if you want. We could make a day of it, if you’re interested, of course.”