Page 10 of Dimitri
*****
They walked first to the barn where the restless horses were bunked for the night. The farm was quiet, just a few hands doing odd jobs and hailing them as they went on their way. The wind had picked up, the sky a sleet-bleary gray that indicated more snow on the horizon.
"You need a thicker jacket." Alvin eyed the slick, cashmere black coat that didn't look sturdy or insulated enough to battle the cold.
And it was open all the way down.
Patting the horse on the flanks, Dimitri flashed him a devastating smile, his gaze flickering over the thick jacket with fur lining the collar and edges. His grandfather was all buttoned up and wearing a watch cap.
"This is nothing," he ran his hand over the horse's thick mane in appreciation. "In Russia, the winters are brutal. I don't even need the jacket. Babushka insisted. I added it to assuage her worry."
"Your skin is thick."
Dimitri's grin widened. Taking one last look around the cozy barn with the sweet scent of fresh hay, he walked alongside the old man as they stepped out and went to the left.
"Indeed. This is a nice spread."
"Several thousand acres." He pointed to a light green tent-like building. "Your grandmother's greenhouse. I'm sure she'll want to give you the tour come morning. I'm in my eighties and don't feel like slowing down."
"I hope I live as long as you do and still have the energy. Perhaps not." He shrugged broad shoulders as they made their way toward a lake and a lovely pergola. "It's so peaceful."
"Things have settled for the night, and the animals are avoiding the cold."
"You have pigs."
"Yes." His grandfather smiled. "Far enough away for the stench not to permeate the air. We provide meat and vegetables for several cities. Elizabeth supplies the local florists as well as the various commercial buildings with flowers." He continued walking away from the lake toward a hill where there was an isolated cabin. "As well as providing wedding bouquets." He pushed open the door of the simple log building. "This has been in the family for several hundred years and has withstood several storms." He walked over to the dusty hearth. Feeling for a matchbox, he struck it and tossed it into the fireplace. Flames leaped up instantly, casting the room in shadows. To his surprise, Dimitri saw solid furnishings.
"We keep it clean and tidy for sentimental reasons. It was the first building on the property."
"Cozy," Dimitri murmured as he looked around.
"And isolated. When I heard of your mother's death, I came here and grieved privately." He walked over to stand at the mantle and stared into the fire. "I blamed your father." He looked up at the quick indrawn breath from Dimitri.
"Should I apologize?"
Alvin chuckled inwardly as he realized how the boy's accent sharpened when he was annoyed.
"Of course not. If your father hadn't wooed my baby, we wouldn't have two very handsome grandsons." He shrugged thin shoulders. "It was my grief talking. I hated the fact that he took her away—so far away from us. She was our only child, and we wanted her near." He shrugged again. "But we don't get to choose who we love, and there was no doubt that they did. If it wasn't the case, I would have fetched her myself and hauled her back here." He turned to face Dimitri. "You're my blood, and I love you very much. Losing my daughter will always be something inside me. But she gave me you. For that I'm entirely grateful."
Dimitri let out a breath. "It's hard on all of us."
"I keep something here as well." With a grin, he strode over to an old cabinet and pulled out a drawer. "I'm supposed to cut back, but—"
Dimitri laughed softly as he lifted the bottle of Petrov prime whiskey.
"Only the best."
"Of course. Your company comes through every time." He dug up two glasses and poured the amber liquid, handing one to Dimitri. "Welcome home, boy," he added gruffly.
*****
Allison slipped out of her boots and wriggled her toes to get rid of the kinks. She had been on her feet for what seemed like ages. After lunch with Jessica, she had been at the courthouse for two hours and then back at the office to file several motions. She had also missed dinner, as usual.
The visit to the juvenile detention center to see her client had cut into her time and taken longer than she'd anticipated. Shedding clothes, she made her way to the bathroom where she ran a bath instead of taking a shower. Adding bath salts and raspberry gel, she padded to the mirror to deal with her hair. She had often entertained the idea of cutting it to shoulder length. It was difficult to deal with, and once a month she was faced with the arduous task of sitting in a salon to get it taken care of professionally. It was an ordeal she despised because it meant sitting still for several hours. She would compromise by takingher notes with her and getting work done. Lifting the thick coils, she quickly and economically wrapped them on top of her head and secured them with pins. Satisfied that she had gotten everything, she walked over to sink into the bubbles.
A glass of wine was already on the lip of the tub. Closing her eyes, she sank in up to her chin and reached for the wine. While she was talking with Jessica about the topic of children, there had been a pang deep inside her chest. She had told herself, or tried to, that it didn't matter that she was childless. The opportunity had been taken from her when that bastard put a bullet in her lover's chest.
Taking a sip of the wine, she breathed in and out slowly. It didn't matter. She had her work, and that was enough. It sounded hollow even to her own ears.
