Love in E Flat (6 page)

“Could you give us a moment?” Agata asked.

“For you, madam, I can wait all night,” he said with a smile and glared at Lou as he walked away.

“What a perfect gentleman,” Agata said, sipping her martini.

Lou leaned in. “He’s gay.”

Agata raised an eyebrow. “You did not strike me as a homophobe, Miss Preston.”

“I’m not,” Lou said defensively. “I’m gay.”

Agata raised the other eyebrow. “Good for you,” she said dryly. “But I believe this interview is not about your sexuality, of which you are very proud, I’m sure.” She took another sip. “There is another part to this interview for Mrs. Trent. It is the reason for this dinner, is it not?”

Lou took a very long drink and rubbed her forehead. She was losing control quickly. She cleared her throat and took another drink. “Yes, exactly. So if you don’t mind, I might ask a few questions that Edie already asked. I don’t want to sound redundant.”

“The night is young, Miss Preston. You may ask anything you like, and I will answer.” She sat back, smoothing the napkin in her lap. “If I like.”

Lou swirled the ice in her empty glass and looked around for Luke.

This would be a long, long night.

Chapter 6

“Yes, I was born in St. Petersburg. My mother is Polish. She was born in a village outside of Warsaw. My father is Russian, born in Minsk.”

“Minsk Kapinsk?” Lou asked with a grin.

Agata frowned deeply. “You have a propensity for making fun of things.”

Lou laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m not really making fun of you. You’re just so serious.”

“And that is wrong?” Agata put her fork down on the empty plate.

Lou was impressed this woman ate so much and kept so fit. She stared at the plate.

“Now what are you thinking?”

“Just that you have a healthy appetite. You can really pack away the food.” Lou immediately winced. “I didn’t mean that as an insult. Actually, I admire you.”

“Because I eat?” Agata sat back.

“No, because you do it so well,” Lou said, enjoying the slight smile she got. “Did you grow up in St. Petersburg, Madam Karetnikov?”

“We do not need to be formal. You may call me Agata. And yes, my parents moved from Minsk to St. Petersburg when they married.”

“What year was this?”

Agata raised an eyebrow. “Trying to find out my age?”

Lou blushed. “No, just wondering if the Cold War was over or not.”

Agata nodded. “I was born in early sixties, so yes, we were still Communists.” She stared at her wineglass. “Though my parents fought it nearly every day of their lives.”

Lou heard the sad tone and said nothing as she drank her wine. For a moment, Agata did the same, then she took a deep, almost pensive breath. “My parents were musicians, as well.”

“Really? The cello?” Lou asked.

“No. My father played the piano, but he made his living teaching music at the university. My mother played the violin for the Mariinsky Ballet, which was once the Kirov Ballet, in St. Petersburg.”

“Was it hard for them?” Lou asked softly.

Agata looked up with tears rimming her blue eyes. “Yes, it was.”

Lou felt as though she were intruding; mercifully, Luke stood by the table. “Dessert, ladies?”

Agata smiled and Lou could not help but grin at the look of childlike anticipation. “Enlighten me, please.”

Luke laughed. “May I suggest the lemon tart?”

“You may,” Agata said, nearly licking her lips. “And a dessert wine?”

“Of course. I shall pick one for you.” Luke looked at Lou. “And for you?”

“Irish coffee, thanks.”

Luke winked and walked away. Lou hesitantly looked across the table. She wasn’t sure how to gauge what Agata was thinking. She didn’t want to be intrusive. Agata’s gaze met Lou’s, and for the slightest second, Lou noticed a soft, almost endearing look. It quickly faded.

“You may ask me anything, Miss Preston.”

“Please, call me Lou.” She smiled as Agata nodded. “I don’t want to intrude on your life…”

“It is all right, Lou. My parents were people who had great passion and did what was not acceptable in Russia at that time. They actively said what they thought, which in the past was costly to so many people. You see, because of their abilities, my parents had certain privileges. Living in St. Petersburg in a nice home was one of them.” She laughed a little ruefully. “But they were activists and had private dinners with certain men and women of the arts and sciences. The government gave them a certain amount of latitude but not for long.”

“What happened?”

Before Agata could answer, Luke came to the table and set a decadent-looking lemon tart in front of Agata, along with a glass of white wine. He set the Irish coffee in front of Lou. “Enjoy, ladies. Just give me a holler.”

Lou raised an eyebrow and realized her answer would have to wait when Agata’s face transformed as she picked up her fork. After one or two bites, Agata rolled her eyes and mumbled something. Lou thought it was Russian. When Agata looked up, Lou chuckled at the blush that crept up from her neck to her cheeks.

“Good?” Lou asked.

“Marvelous. This was an excellent choice.” She picked up the delicate glass of wine and took a sip. “Heaven.”

Lou laughed openly. “I have to tell you, you have a wonderful appetite. My mother would have loved you.”

“Why?” Agata said, cocking her head.

“She loved to see people enjoy themselves. Eating was more of a celebration to her. To me and my dad, it was just fuel for the body. Mom…” She stopped and laughed. “It was an event to be savored.”

Agata smiled slightly and nodded. “My grandmother was that way. She was Polish, and to her, food was almost a sacrament. To be grateful for every meal. Some eat to live. My grandmother lived to eat…” Her voice trailed off. “They did not have much.”

“Do your parents still live in St. Petersburg?”

“No. They are both dead. A car accident nearly twenty-five years ago. They were coming home from the ballet with several friends. A car hit them broadside and drove the car off the icy road and into a ravine.” She gently swirled the wine in the glass, smiling sadly.

“What a horrible accident.” Lou wondered if she saw doubt in Agata’s blue eyes. All sorts of scenarios ran through Lou’s mind. “Was it?”

Agata sat back. “Was it what?”

“Well, ya know…” Lou nervously looked around the restaurant.

Agata narrowed her eyes in confusion. “What are you talking about? Was what it?”

“Did your parents run out of latitude?” Lou’s eyes grew wide when Agata sat back.

“Lati—?” Agata let out a deep sigh. Lou saw a faint smile cross her gentle features. “Let us not get carried away.”

Lou felt her jaw hit the table; she felt as if she were in the middle of a good spy novel. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” She nervously looked around the restaurant once again.

“I do not know.” Agata rubbed her temple. “What do you think I am saying, Comrade?”

Lou swallowed. “Well, you said earlier the government gave your parents a certain amount of latitude but not for long. So are you saying…?” She leaned in and whispered, “What exactly are you saying?”

Agata leaned in. “I am saying nothing. It is your wild imagination running…what is the word?” Agata sat back with a smug grin. “Amok.”

Lou frowned. “I’m not running amok. I’m just following what you said. Anyway, I’m sorry about your parents.” When Agata looked sad and pensive, Lou wanted to reach across and take her hand. The urge made her palm actually itch; she picked up her coffee and took a drink.

“No, I am sorry. A morbid topic for such a wonderful meal.” She looked at Lou. “You are good at getting information. Russia could have used you during the Cold War, Ms. Preston…”

“Lou.”

Agata hid her grin. “Comrade Preston.”

Lou threw her head back and let out a barking laugh; she got a scathing look from Luke and cleared her throat. “Okay. So to continue. You followed your parents’ love of music?”

“Yes. At the age of four, I showed an interest, and my parents were thrilled. So my life was decided for me very early.”

Lou cocked her head. “Is that what you wanted?”

“Wanted?” It was Agata’s turn to laugh. “It was Communist Russia. They saw another prodigy to exploit. They still do…” She had the faraway look again, Lou thought, but it quickly faded. “My parents fought to keep me away from them. And for the most part, they did. But it was all I knew.”

“Why the cello?”

Agata offered a devilish smirk. “Well, it started with the violin, which pleased my mother, but as I got older, I grew…” She stopped as if to find the appropriate word. “Rebellious.”

Lou grinned. “Why?”

“Because I did not like my teacher. He was old and smelled of vegetable soup.” She stopped when Lou laughed. “It is true. My parents did not like him, either, but they appointed him.”

“And by ‘they,’ you mean the government?” Lou whispered.

Agata nodded. “So I chose the cello. I think just to annoy.”

“Did it work?”

“Oh, yes. He was old and rude and wanted me to play the violin. So I annoyed to the point he quit. And after a persuasive conversation from my parents, they were allowed to choose my teacher.”

“Did you practice a lot?”

“Every day. Sometimes all day with only break to eat.”

“Seems pretty severe.” Lou toyed with her coffee cup, stealing a glance at Agata.

“Practice makes perfect,” Agata said. “So they say.”

“And did it?”

Agata grinned slightly. “It is unattainable,
nyet
?”

Lou raised her cup. “Absolutely. Did you like the severity of practice?”

“I do not think anyone actually likes to practice. But to be accomplished—”

“And that was important to you? Or your parents or the state?”

“I hear a slight judgmental tone, Comrade.”

Lou shrugged. “Not judgmental, just curious. Most kids don’t go for the intense all-day…”

“Some American children are coddled. You speak from experience?”

Lou shifted in her chair. “Did you ever want to play anything else? Or do anything else?”

“Like what? And you did not answer my question.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Like becoming a dancer or a teacher or a bricklayer.” Lou hoped Agata did not hear the harshness in her tone as she continued, “You didn’t have to be a musician. You didn’t have to do it just because your parents did. You could have told them all to go piss up a rope.” She immediately wanted that last sentence back.

“Piss up rope?” Agata raised an eyebrow. “I have no idea what that means.”

Lou laughed nervously. “Sorry. That was vulgar. It’s like ‘go jump in the lake.’” She shrugged, hoping that would suffice.

“That phrase I know. Now I understand.” Agata smiled slightly. “So why didn’t you tell them to go piss up rope?”

Lou’s head shot up. “Who? What are you talking about?”

Agata regarded Lou longer than Lou was comfortable with.

“So where were we?” Lou asked.

“Telling them to piss up rope,” Agata said softly.

“Right,” Lou said. “So why didn’t you?” When Agata raised an eyebrow, Lou quickly continued, “What? It’s a logical question.”

“Yes, but for who?” Agata still watched her.

Lou glared. “Whom. For whom.”

“Do not pick on my English. For whom then?”

“I forgot the question.” Lou searched for Luke while avoiding Agata’s smirk. She caught his eye and raised her empty coffee mug.

“Did you always want to be a writer of sports?” Agata asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“Is just a question. Do not get so defensive.”

The usually omnipresent Luke was nowhere to be found. Mercifully, a minute later, he appeared at the table. He set the Irish coffee in front of Lou. “I made it a double. I’ve been watching,” he whispered, turning to Agata before Lou could respond. “Another, my lady?”