“He thinks he should have prevented your grandfather’s death.”
“I don’t blame him for any of this!” I could hear the anger in my voice. Any suggestion that Viktor was anything but my savior made me feel pure white rage.
His reply was mild. “No, but he blames himself.”
“I need to talk to him.”
I didn’t just need to talk with Viktor. I was desperate to seek a moment of shelter in his warm presence. The world felt crushingly cold without him by my side.
“I’ll let him know.”
We pulled past the gates, and Andrusha rolled the van around front.
What could I say to him after all of this? I was at a complete loss for words. My manners won. “Thank you.”
He paused, as if debating how much he should say. “Be patient with him. He’s worth it.”
That made me want to weep, and I had to tighten my throat against the tsunami of emotion within me. “I will be.”
He handed me a business card. “And call me if you need anything.”
Oh god, I didn’t want to get out of the van. I stared up at the big house. I didn’t want to face what I needed to face. It was almost incomprehensible. I had no idea how I was going to find the strength to tell my grandma what had happened.
His voice was low. “You’ve got this, okay? You can do this. I know you can do this.”
I felt myself borrowing his strength, much like I had borrowed Viktor’s strength this past week. “Okay, thank you.”
He nodded. “I’ll be in touch.”
Three days later, I sat beside my grandmother on the couch in the upstairs sitting room. She was next to the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket.
“Granny, we need to plan Pappa’s funeral. The funeral home and the church are both free to hold the service next Saturday. What do you think?”
She didn’t respond or even blink. I wasn’t even sure if she heard me. She was still in her own cocoon of denial and shock, and I didn’t want to pull her out of that place.
“Grandpa detailed his wishes. Would you like me to start planning this for you?”
I waited, but she didn’t even blink.
“I could help if you would like to be involved. Or I would be happy to take care of all of this for you. Whatever you need.”
Nothing. She gave me nothing.
“Okay, I can let you think about it. Why don’t we talk about this later?”
“What does Pierre think?” Her question came out of the blue.
The night I had told my grandmother, Pierre had silently appeared, and he just started to take care of things. He never overstepped his bounds. If it was beyond what he thought he should handle, he would discreetly ask me and then reliably carry out my directives.
I didn’t want reliable.
I wanted to cling to my Russian rock. Who had conveniently disappeared from my life. Only a thin veil of pride stood between me and my desperation to know how he was doing. Every minute of every day, I contemplated calling Andrusha, under some false pretense, just so I could ask about Viktor.
I had other, darker moments when I mentally railed against Viktor, wanting to get in his face just so I could tell him off. I didn’t blame him for not saving my grandfather, but I couldn’t come to terms with how he had seemingly just abandoned me. I would get really mad, but then I would remember Andrusha asking me to cut Viktor some slack. And another very rational part of me knew that Viktor didn’t owe me anything. He didn’t owe me his strength or his comfort. The whole situation made me ache. I’d genuinely thought he cared, more than his actions indicated.
I forced myself to focus on the conversation at hand. “Pierre thinks you should let us plan the funeral on your behalf.”
She squeezed my hand. “Thank you, darling. I think that is for the best. Pappa needs beautiful flowers. He loved gardenias.”
“I’ll make that happen.”
“I would like to be alone now.”
I stood up and kissed her forehead. “Of course. I’ll check in later.”
“Thank you, darling.”
I was quietly shutting the door when I heard Pierre’s voice escalating in the foyer below me. “You have a lot of nerve bringing this by.”
“And you are?” My entire body froze as I recognized Andrusha’s voice.
“None of your fucking business. And if you think I am going to let you bill Blaire, after you let her grandfather be killed under your care, you can think again. We refuse to pay for incompetence.”
I rushed down the stairs, my voice scandalized. “Pierre!”
Both men turned to watch me approach.
I focused my attention on Andrusha and said in a calm voice, “Would you excuse us for a moment?”
I walked a reluctant Pierre into the front room before turning to hiss at him. “What are you doing?”
He looked so frustrated. “Is he the one?”
My heart started to beat faster as I sensed what he was asking. “Excuse me?”
“Is he the friend you were traveling with in Asia? The friend who helped you?”
I froze as I processed what was happening here. His jealous comment gave me pause. I had thought Pierre and I were long past our days of thinking of each other like that. He had moved on to other relationships, and our friendship had remained intact. His concern over who I had been with in Asia set off alarm bells.
“I think you should go home now. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but you need to go.”
“Blaire, come on. Don’t be like that.”
“I don’t have time for your emotions this week, Pierre. I’m sorry, but not about that. I have more important things I need to deal with.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
That word caught me off guard. After Viktor, the word protect took on a whole new meaning. Pierre would never understand that. “Please give me my invoice.”
“You shouldn’t have to pay for this. They failed at their job.”
“This is my business to handle.”
With reluctance, he handed me the invoice. “You need to let me help.”
“I think it’s too emotionally complicated for you to be helping me on this.”
“It’s not.”
“If you don’t mind, I have a meeting right now.”
He picked up his coat and started walking out toward the kitchen. “I’ll text you in the morning. Maybe you’ll be in a more receptive mood for someone who’s trying to help you.”
I took a big shaky breath in and held it before I pushed back through the door to find Andrusha still waiting for me.
He looked at me, assessing my upset expression and the invoice in my hands.
“I’m sorry about that. Would you like to come in for a drink?”
“Do you have vodka?”
He sat in the big easy chair near the fireplace with a neat vodka in his hand.
He lifted his eyes to mine. “Was that your boyfriend?”
I could feel his watchfulness. He was probably wondering if I was betraying Viktor.
“Pierre is just a family friend who’s been helping out. I think he feels quite protective right now, even if it’s misguided.”
Andrusha’s eyes were moving around the room, taking in all the details. Like my grandfather’s big crossword puzzle that still lay on the coffee table. And his reading glasses next to it. “How are you doing?”