Page 57 of The Unseen
The bell above the door chimed, summoning a portly, balding gentleman who wore a pair of grimy specs and a leather apron. “How can I help, miss?”
“I’d like to see Mr. Bistritzky, please.”
“Which one?”
“Stanislav.”
“Stan!” the man hollered. “A charming young lady is here to see you.” He winked at Valentina and left her to wait. She looked around, taking in various pamphlets, books, and leaflets.
Stanislav appeared through a door at the back of the shop. His hands were stained with ink and he wore an apron to protect his clothes.
“Miss Kalinina, what a surprise. Were you in the neighborhood?”
“No, I came to see you. I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course. I have my break coming up in a few minutes. Would you care to join me for a cup of tea? There’s a little place Max and I go to just around the corner. The proprietor allows us to eat our sandwiches as long as we order a pot of tea.”
“Yes, tea would be great.”
Stanislav retreated back behind the door and reappeared a few minutes later, sans apron and with semi-clean hands. “Max will have his dinner here today. He has something he wishes to finish.”
Valentina walked with Stanislav to the tea shop, acutely conscious of the awkward silence between them. She’d never called on a man before, and he’d probably never had anyone seek him out at work. He held the door for her and they entered the tiny shop. Stanislav nodded to the man who came to greet them and asked for a table for two and a pot of tea.
“Would you like some scones?” he asked.
“Why not? But please allow me to treat you. I’m the one who came to see you, and I’d like to recompense you for your time.”
“There’s really no need, Miss Kalinina. Seeing you is a pleasure, and I would have come here anyway.”
“All right,” Valentina conceded.
They settled at a table by the window and Stanislav shyly took out his lunch. “Would you like half?”
“No, thank you. Enjoy your lunch. What is that?” She couldn’t quite make out what was spread between the bread of the sandwich.
“It’s shkvarki,” Stanislav replied, coloring slightly. “It’s basically just onions fried in chicken fat and allowed to congeal,” he explained when Valentina looked blank. “It’s poor-people food,” he added bitterly.
“I didn’t mean to imply…”
“I know you didn’t. My mother is very frugal. Max and I give her a portion of our salaries so she can buy food, but shescrimps and only makes a decent meal on the Sabbath. Then, we have brisket or roasted chicken. We look forward to it all week.”
Valentina poured tea for both of them and helped herself to a scone and some clotted cream. She wasn’t a huge fan of the stuff, but the tearoom didn’t offer any jam or even butter. “The reason I came to see you today is that I want to make you a proposition.”
“Oh?”
“These past few months I’ve lived off my cousin’s bounty. He’s been very good to us, but I would like to earn money of my own—without his knowledge.”
“And how can I help?” Stanislav asked.
“I noticed that only men purchase your newspaper.”
“I expect they convey the news to their womenfolk,” Stanislav said as he reached for a scone, having finished his sad excuse for a sandwich.
“Well, what if there was a newspaper for women?”
“For women?”
“Yes. LikeLadies’ Journalor some such.”
