Page 59 of The Unseen
“No, I grew up in Petrograd, like you. Only our paths would never have crossed, even if we had both remained.”
“No, I don’t suppose they would. Well, I’m glad our paths crossed now. This is a new world, and a new life, and I, for one, am planning to embrace it.”
“I must get back to work, Valentina. I’m so glad you came to see me. Feel free to visit me again, even if you don’t have any innovative business propositions. Just being seen with a pretty girl is doing wonders for my reputation.” Stanislav held the door for her and they stepped out into the street.
Valentina smiled. She hadn’t realized until that moment that Stan was actually quite attractive. Being seen with him might harm her reputation, but she didn’t care. She was done doing things the old-fashioned way. She was a woman of the twentieth century.
THIRTY
Valentina waited anxiously for Sunday, eager to hear what Stan had to say about her proposal. He seemed interested, but she’d never met Max and had no idea what he might be like. Max might think wasting resources to attract female customers to be a pointless idea, one destined to lose money and waste time. At least the day was sunny and bright, so Cousin Dmitri wouldn’t rush them to the car after the service. On fine days, he liked to linger outside the church, talking to other parishioners and making social plans that always included Elena. He seemed determined to help her assimilate and adjust to her new life. Valentina found his efforts endearing. He seemed to genuinely care, and Elena was slowly letting go of her grief.
The service was exactly the same length as every other church service they’d attended, but this one seemed to go on forever. Valentina turned toward the door as soon as the priest wished the congregation a good day, eager to be the first one outside. Stan was rearranging books on his table when she approached him.
“Good morning, Valentina.” He kept his voice low for fear that someone might hear him using her Christian name and misinterpret his intentions. One complaint against him and many would stop purchasing his paper.
“Good morning, Mr. Bistritzky,” Valentina replied as worshippers began to exit the church. “Fine day.”
“It certainly is.”
Valentina stepped to the far side of the table and pretended to leaf through a book while numerous men helped themselves to a paper and dropped money in the tin. “Have you spoken to Max?”
“I have. He thinks it’s a risky idea, given that most women tend to echo the views of their husbands and fathers, but he thinks it’s worth a try. We’ll start with a leaflet and give out the first issueto the ladies for free. If they’re interested enough to start paying, you’ll get a fifty percent cut of the profits after we subtract the cost of paper and ink. Deal?”
“That sounds very generous.”
Stan smiled. “Don’t get too excited. Fifty percent of practically nothing is practically nothing.”
“When do you want me to begin writing?”
Stan reached into his pocket and extracted a small card with a handwritten address. “Write an article about whatever you think would entice the ladies and post it to this address no later than Wednesday. I wouldn’t start with votes for women. Too inflammatory. Something that might appeal to women who have been displaced and are forced to live in reduced circumstances. My sister, Sarah, is going to write a fashion column. She works as a seamstress for the House of Forsythe, and she’s mad for fashions, even though our father doesn’t permit her to wear anything even remotely stylish.”
“I’ve heard of the House of Forsythe. Their label is very prestigious.”
“Sarah’s only allowed in the workshop and does grunt work, but she does see the designs and has strong opinions on what works and what doesn’t. She heard us talking and wouldn’t desist until we promised her a column. Father will have an apoplexy if he discovers that his daughter is writing for the public.”
“Why?”
“Because he wants her to give up her job and marry a man of his choice. Sarah is holding out.”
“My father wanted me to marry the man of his choice,” Valentina said wistfully. “I loved him with all my heart.”
“Well, this situation is a little different. My father has his sights set on a recently widowed brewer who has three childrenunder the age of six. Not a future Sarah sees for herself. She’s a headstrong girl, and Max and I support her all the way. No one should have to waste their life on someone they don’t care for.”
Valentina reached into her reticule and pulled out a coin, which she handed to Stan as one of the other ladies approached the table. “Thank you, Mr. Bistritzky.”
“I hope you enjoy the book, Miss Kalinina.”
Valentina stowed the card in her reticule and walked away from the table, her mind already on the article she would write. Perhaps she was just desperately searching for something to give her purpose and occupy her mind, but she was excited at the prospect of writing her first piece. She glanced back and was surprised to see Stan looking after her, an unreadable expression on his pale face.
THIRTY-ONE
DECEMBER 2014
London, England
Quinn had just taken a roast chicken out of the oven when she heard Gabe’s key in the lock. He was late, which was unusual.
Emma exploded into the kitchen, looking disgruntled. “Dad was late picking me up,” she complained. “I’m hungry. What’s for dinner?”
