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Anger bubbled up inside of me at them both for making Hunter promise.
"They shouldn't have made you do that. It's none of their business."
"They were afraid you'd
be murdered, Celia. Murdered because of me."
I said nothing and watched while he placed the basket on the stump, which must have once been a massive tree. It was as big as a dining room table. He opened the basket and took out a blanket with ornate red, white, and black stitching.
"Is that Russian? It looks Slavic."
"Thanks to George. He bought the picnic basket and the blanket at this little Russian store in San Francisco."
"Really? There's a Russian store in San Francisco?"
"There is." Hunter took out dishes and glasses and a bottle of vodka. "I wouldn't know how to fix a picnic if my life depended on it." He opened the bottle of vodka and poured two shots into the tiny crystal glasses with delicate lacy etching. "Luckily, it doesn't or I'd be dead. That's why I have George. He, unlike me, actually had a life in Russia and learned all these things."
Hunter sat on the stump and I sat beside him, wanting to feel his body next to mine.
"So," I said as I leaned back. "Tell me about George. How is he?"
"George?" Hunter fished out a small insulated container from the picnic basket. He opened it and revealed a collection of small pancake-like items. He eyed them. "George is the kind of man who believes in going all out. These," he said, "are blini. Little Russian pancakes."
I smiled. "Yes, I know those. You put caviar on them and sour cream."
Hunter glanced up at me. "They're good. Salty and creamy and savory." He took out a small dish of black caviar and one filled with sour cream. He fixed a blini for me and handed it to me on a napkin.
"You should be drinking a shot of vodka when you eat this, to be truly Russian."
I laughed. "You didn’t tell me why George was so emotional."
"He was afraid for you, that's all."
I smiled, affection for George filling me.
"After what happened in Boston, I'm quite happy to never see another Russian again, but I have a soft spot for George. As for the vodka, hit me." I popped the blini in my mouth and chewed. I didn’t mind it. "Tastes like the ocean." I watched as Hunter ate one as well.
"How is he?" I asked. "He was hurt badly when they abducted me. He almost died, right?"
Hunter nodded and fixed me another blini. "George is tough," he said and leaned back. "He's recovering. He needs to use a cane, and probably will for the rest of his life but he's alive."
"I'm glad." I said and took the glass of vodka from him.
"To your health," he said and held up his glass once he'd filled it.
"To your heath," I repeated and we both downed the vodka. I squinted but enjoyed the sensation as it burned down my throat.
"So, tell me why you're here," I said. "Why bring George with you? It must have been hard for him to travel."
"I've been thinking. You know what they say – everything happens for a reason and for the best. To teach us life lessons."
"I don't believe that." I shook my head. "What reason was there for Sean to die?"
He frowned. "Because I was stupid. I should have pushed harder to get my family out of the business. I should have insisted and I should have stayed in Boston and taken over instead of going into the Marines. I was being selfish."
I was silent. "Maybe you wouldn't have succeeded. Sergei was a monster, as was his brother. You couldn't have escaped them very easily."
"No, you're right. But maybe if I had, the FBI would never have come that day to arrest Donny, and Sean would still be alive, and you wouldn’t be in witness protection across the country from me so the bad guys can't find you and hurt you."
