Chapter Thirty-Six:

I’ve always known Vasha to be docile and quiet. She’s soft spoken, and thinks long and hard before she says anything...the only exception being when she’s drunk. That’s why I thought it was strange that she seemed on edge tonight, and I didn’t know what to make of it. With her phone still untouched on the coffee table, I mentally began ruling out any possibilities of her hearing from Olya in the half hour we’d been getting everything ready to bake. Coming up empty, I built up the courage to strike up a conversation.

“Detka, do you want to talk about anything?” I was sitting on a barstool facing Andrei’s spacious kitchen island, watching Vasha roughly pound and roll a generous pile of raw gingerbread cookie dough. I’d given up on helping when it became clear I was just getting in the way. The kitchen is no place for me to begin with. I’m a lot more comfortable as a spectator.

“Fine. Why do you ask?&