Page 32 of My Queendom for a Horse

It allows me to turn back toward Sean and say, “He’s delighted.”

Sean raises one eyebrow. “He doesn’t look very pleased, but maybe Russians are just like that?”

Finally we’ve reached the restaurant. I try to look at it as I might if I’d been alive in the early 1900s. The exterior was meticulously designed to make it look old—plaster hand applied over exposed brick that I’m quite sure was installed exactly as it is. But to Aleks? It might look like it’s falling down.

At least the styling of the letters on the sign and the patio with the outdoor tables set up is all breathtakingly beautiful. There are individual tables underneath the tents, with large oil heaters allocated to each one. The red awnings from the tents bring out the red of the brick, and beautiful trees installed in between each third tent tie all of it together with a sort of old-world charm.

Aleks, strangely I’m discovering, isn’t saying a word. He’s simply absorbing everything around us.

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” Sean whispers.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“Will he embarrass us?” He frowns. “I like this place. I want to be able to come back while I’m setting up the office in Daugavpils.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Only, I’m not sure. Not at all. Now that Sean has asked the question, it’s all I can think about. Will he embarrass me? What might he do or say?

The second we reach the front, a woman greets us at the door. “Welcome,” she says in Latvian. “Table for three?” She’s tall, which Latvians often are. We pride ourselves on having the tallest women in Europe, although I kind of buck that trend by being stupidly short. But she’s also finely boned, with great cheekbones and blonde hair. She’s really quite pretty.

I nod. “Three.”

“Right this way,” she says.

“Can we sit outside?” Sean asks in English.

She pauses, clearly not understanding him. “Did he say ‘outside’?” She says the last word in English. We all have to take it at school, but most Latvians don’t retain much. Recognition finally dawns, and she turns to me, still speaking in Latvian. “Your boyfriend wants to sit outside, no?”

“He’s not her boyfriend,” Aleks says in Russian.

This whole thing is not off to a great start, and if Sean is following at all, he’ll realize that Aleks at least understands Latvian.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “Sean.” I nod at him. “He only speaks English.” Then I nod at Aleks. “And he only speaks Russian.”

“Ah!” Her pretty blue eyes light up, and she turns on Aleks like she’s starving and he’s a loaf of fresh rye bread. “I speak Russian. I grew up speaking Russian, actually.”

I should have known. I mean, most people here speak at least a little.

“It’s rare that we have such handsome Russians come to Daugavpils.” She’s practically eating him with her eyes.

“This woman,” Aleks says. “She’s going to bring us food?” He pins me with a stare. “Because all she seems to do is talk.”

Her face falls and she looks down at her feet. “Of course I’ll bring you food. Right this way.” She hastily leads us to a tent-covered table, and then ducks around the corner.

“You embarrassed her,” I say. “That was rude.”

“How was it rude?” Aleks asks. “She’s a servant girl. She should be serving, not talking.”

I can’t stop my eyes from rolling. “She’s not a servant. She’s a waitress.”

“You compensate her for bringing you food, no?” Aleks asks.

“I mean, yes, but—”

He cocks one eyebrow. “Servant.”

“What’s he saying?” Sean asks.

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