Svetlana's Second Chance


Svetlana didn't even glance up when the doorbell rang. Despite the
fact that he left her alone all but three or four days out of the
month, Karl liked the illusion that she was completely helpless and,
without him around, would soon starve or go mad due to her inability
to perform even the simplest of tasks, like opening doors or turning
on the television, for herself. For the most part, Sveta was happy to
humor him. After all, he let her stay in this fairly posh apartment
and asked so little in return.

He stuck his close-cropped blonde head in the door of the room where
she was reclining. Frowning fiercely, he said, "There's a young man
here asking for you, Sveta. He says he is your attorney." His English
was heavily accented with German.

Svetlana smiled, "Thank you, Karl." Her own English was heavily
accented with Russian, "And, Karl. Could you run down and pick up more
orange juice? We are all out."

Karl's frown deepened into a scowl, "You are sure you do not want me
to stay? I have many dealings with lawyers."

Svetlana's smile didn't leave her face. But, she said, "It's all
right, dear. I have to resolve a small matter that I left unfinished
in New York. It will be no problem."

Karl's smile was obviously forced, "Very well. I will be back
shortly."

Svetlana rose and kissed him. Karl's smile became more genuine, "Be
careful with him."

She nodded, knowing that Karl's warning had nothing to do with
lawyers. Macartin Laughlin was a devilishly handsome man who knew it
and had made no bones about his desire for Svetlana. For her own part,
Sveta didn't see any benefit either to sleeping with him or
discouraging his pursuits. After all, Karl might get bored with her at
which point she would need another place to stay.

"Sveta," he said, sweeping into the room. "I just received a delivery
that I thought you would want brought to you immediately."

"Oh," asked Svetlana. "What is it?"

Placing his briefcase on the side table, Macartin dialed in a
combination and clicked it open. With a flourish, he extracted a FedEx
envelope. Sliding his hand inside, he extracted a smaller envelope.

"This arrived at noon, along with a sheaf of related documents," he
said.

Svetlana knew Macartin's love of the dramatic and wondered what sort
of grand gesture he was expecting from her. She considered batting her
eyelashes, clutching her hands together and saying, "Do so tell me
what it is." But, that would probably be too over-the-top even for
Macartin, so she just waited patiently for him to get to the point.

Looking vaguely disappointed, he handed her the envelope. Svetlana
opened the flap, sliding out a small, green piece of paper,
approximately the size and shape of a check. Turning it over, Sveta
looked at it, puzzled. She'd seen such gag checks before, even been
fooled by them when she first came to America, thinking that
Publisher's Clearinghouse was really sending her husband ten million
dollars. It was not such a far-fetched conceit. Ivan had been worth
many times that before his recent legal troubles.

Then, she blinked and realized that this was not a check to Ivan, but
from Ivan. Her hand rose to her mouth in stunned silence. She turned
the check back and forth in her hand, not believing that such a small
thing could be so very important.

Now, Macartin was smiling broadly. Obviously, Sveta had inadvertently
played into his fantasy of how this scene should go. She was too
stunned to care one way or another.

"I thought you said this could take years," she said.

Macartin nodded, "Quite often, it does. But, apparently Ivan has
decided to stop contesting the prenup. The documents that came with it
made it pretty clear that this is an indicator of a cessation of all
legal ties between you two, both litigious and matrimonial." Slipping
out another envelope from his briefcase, he handed it to Svetlana, "He
finally signed the divorce papers as well."

Sveta took the envelope, not opening it, "That's wonderful. Mr.
Laughlin, could I impose upon you for a ride to the bank? I would like
to get this deposited before they close for the weekend."

"Of course," said Macartin. "It would be an honor."

In the car, he said, "We should go out and celebrate. This is going to
be a big turning point in your life. You're a rich, beautiful, single
woman now. You should start enjoying it."

Sveta's smile was cautious. She was already calculating how to get the
seven-figure contingency fee she'd agreed to for his services reduced
and it wouldn't do to get entangled, "I am afraid that I cannot. Karl
and I have plans this evening. I thank you for asking though."

He smiled back, "Another time, then."

Inside the bank, Svetlana waited on line nervously. It being Friday, a
lot of people were there at the last minute, trying to deposit or cash
paychecks. Never having been in a bank at closing time, she didn't
know what would happen if she were still on line, then.

As it turned out, at closing time, the guards merely locked the front
doors, letting no one else in, but leaving the current line of
customers inside. Sveta smiled. That was a very American way of doing
things.

When she handed the check to the teller, the woman looked her over.
Then, without trying to be too obvious, she pressed a button under her
desk. A few seconds later, a manager appeared. He asked Svetlana to
produce identification. Even after she did, he eyed her suspiciously.

Svetlana couldn't blame him. Karl had been so enamored of her youth
that she had started dressing the part for him. Currently, she was
wearing blue jeans and a gray t-shirt with the logo for Boston
College. And, she had just deposited a check fifteen million dollars.

Finally, the manager said, "We're going to need to verify this. The
funds won't be available until next Friday."

Svetlana nodded, "Of course." She was anxious to confirm that the
money was in her account, but careful not to show that anxiety.
Already, the manager was trying to sell her the bank's investment
services. Somehow, his attempt to grab a chunk of the money made it
more real.

                                     -=-
                                     
Svetlana saw no reason not to spend the weekend with Karl. He was a
competent lover, not creative enough to be cruel. For a man in his
early fifties, he kept himself trim and in decent shape. Best of all,
he assumed Svetlana was an empty-headed girl with no concerns beyond
how he would amuse her today. It was an impression that Svetlana
cultivated carefully and one which gave her plenty of time to think
about things that didn't concern Karl at all.

Once Karl flew back to Germany and his wife, Svetlana found herself
feeling nostalgic towards the apartment. It had never really been
home, but it felt that way anyhow. On Tuesday, the bank called to
confirm that the check had indeed cleared and to again try to sell her
the bank's investment services.

Karl wouldn't be back for at least another two weeks. Svetlana split
her time between studying up on her investment options and looking for
a place of her own. As Karl's return drew closer, she'd made very
little progress on the former and was still up in the air on the
latter, but the more she realized she didn't know about...well,
everything...the more she was drawn towards a particular course of
action.

Two days before Karl would have returned, Svetlana braced herself and
made a phone call.

"Hello," said Tryne when she picked up the phone.

"Tryne, it is your stepmother."

She could hear the pause before Tryne answered, "Not anymore,
Svetlana. Now, you're my father's ex-wife. The divorce is final. What
are you calling me for?"

Svetlana smiled. Tryne had only been in charge of the Mannsborough
branch of the family for a few months. But, she was already all
business. Despite the fact that Tryne actively disliked her, Svetlana
found herself hoping things turned out well for her. Under different
circumstances, they might have been friends, particularly since they
were the same age.

"I need a favor," Svetlana said point blank.

"I ordered my father to send you a check for fifteen million dollars,"
said Tryne. "How many more favors are you going to ask for?"

"Ordered?" Svetlana let the word hang in the air.

She could hear Tryne sigh over the phone, "In a manner of speaking. I
told him that he would have to settle your prenup if he wanted me to
throw the weight of the family's legal team behind him in his recent
legal unpleasantness. Apparently, he hates the idea of paying you off
slightly less than he does that of going to jail."

"Is he going to jail?" Svetlana asked.

"Probably," said Tryne. "Did you call me to ask after my father's well
being?"

"No," said Svetlana. "As I said, I need a favor."

"Why would I want to do you a favor?"

Svetlana smiled, "Because this favor will keep me busy and out of
Vandevoort family politics."

"You're already out of Vandevoort family politics."

Svetlana laughed, "Am I? Do you think I spent all those years in your
father's house and attended all of those family events and never
formed alliances of my own? You have many relatives both here and in
Amsterdam who would love to see you replaced as head of the Vandevoort
Foundation with someone more to their liking."

"I don't doubt that I do," said Tryne.

"Hear my request," said Svetlana. "You may find it amusing."

"All right," said Tryne. "I have a lot of things to take care of
today."

Svetlana told her what she wanted. On the other end of the line, Tryne
laughed explosively. Svetlana waited patiently for the laughter to
subside.

"You'll fail," said Tryne.

"Perhaps," said Svetlana. "If I do, it will serve to vindicate your
low opinion of me."

There was another long pause. Then, Tryne said, "I have no bond of
affection for you, Svetlana. As far as I'm concerned, you were
household staff and not the only member of the staff sleeping with my
father, I suspect. If I do this, I do not ever want to hear from you
again. Are we agreed?"

"Of course," said Svetlana. "After all, how can a mother not give in
to such a sweet request from her favorite daughter?"

                                     -=-
                                     
Svetlana spent the rest of the summer learning the ins and outs of
living alone in America. It was a new experience for her. In Moscow,
she'd had three roommates in an apartment that would have been a tight
fit for two. When she'd come to America, Ivan had set her up in an
apartment on the outskirts of Chicago. Then, she'd been alone much of
the time. But, it hadn't been the same. Someone paid her rent. Someone
delivered her groceries. She had a maid to make the bed and vacuum the
floor.

Now, she was really on her own. She considered getting a maid and all
the rest. But, she decided against it. She'd seen those women--the
ones who remained helpless as they bounced from husband to husband.
When they lost their looks, they invariably either married some
milksop who would wait on them hand and foot or became shut-ins, too
afraid of the world to leave their apartments.

She finally figured out what to do with the money she'd earned. When
she told her investment advisor, he said, "Svetlana, you're a young
woman. You should take more risks. This portfolio would be more
appropriate for a retiree."

Svetlana laughed, "That is exactly what I was looking for. As of
today, I am retired."

                                     -=-
                                     
For the most part, she kept her promise to Tryne. It wasn't the
easiest thing to extract herself from the dealings and machinations of
the Vandevoorts, but she did her best. When a member of the Minnesota
branch of the family spoke too freely about their plans to remove
Tryne as head of the Foundation, Svetlana made sure that her
stepdaughter heard about those plans through indirect channels.

She took an apartment convenient to where she needed to be. It was
relatively small compared to what she was accustomed to. But, since
she was taking care of it herself, smaller was better. In spite of the
fact that she had months to prepare, she found herself looking forward
to the first day of school with the same trepidation she'd had when
she was a little girl.

She viewed with wry amusement the letter than informed her that her
application had been accepted to Boston College. She'd never submitted
an application. She'd also been surprised by the letter, having
forgotten that her admission was not a foregone conclusion. She'd
never had any doubt that the Vandevoort machine would work as
advertised.

By the time registration and matriculation rolled around, Svetlana had
gotten to know the neighborhood between her apartment and Boston
College. The morning she was to register for classes, she did her mane
of red hair up in a ponytail, washed off most of her make up, put on a
sweatshirt with the logo of the college and a pair of jeans, and
looked herself over critically in the full-length mirror.

"Da," she said. "Am lookink like freshman." Then, she smiled. Her
accent had become much heavier since she'd moved to Boston. She didn't
consider it an affectation, though--more the dropping of an
affectation. She could speak unaccented English when the mood struck
her, but it was an effort. And, people tended to underestimate her
more when she was less intelligible.

As she tried to find her way around the college, Svetlana realized
she'd made a tactical error. While she'd put a good deal of time into
learning the neighborhood around the campus, she hadn't put much time
into learning the campus itself. She soon became hopelessly lost.

"Excuse me," said a young man. "Are you a freshman?"

"Yes," said Svetlana. "I am freshman."

"What's your name?"

"Svetlana," she said.

"Sorry," he said. "I meant what's your last name?"

Svetlana was ready for that one. She'd made sure that all her
paperwork was in her maiden named, "Kyznetsov."

"Ah," said the young man putting out his hand to shake. "I'm Jeff
Mason. We register in the same place--J through Q. Let me show you
where it is."

She smiled at the young man, shook his hand, and followed him to the
registration tables.

When she was done registering, she saw Jeff talking to a couple of men
near his age. When he spotted her emerging from the building, he
raised a hand, waving to get her attention.

Svetlana came over. Jeff introduced the two men he was talking to as
his roommates. As if responding to some invisible signal, the two
roommates took their leave. As if it were the continuation of another
conversation, Jeff said, "So, Svetlana. Would you like to get a cup of
coffee? Or, maybe go out for a beer later? There are plenty of places
around campus that cater to college students."

Svetlana looked up into the face of the earnest young man. He was
attractive in a Midwestern corn-fed sort of way. Intellectually, she
knew she was only a few years older than him, but he seemed impossibly
young.

Besides, she was looking forward to college being a respite from the
world for her, not an opportunity to start dating college boys. She
laughed lightly, "Thank you, Jeff. But, I am going to be much too busy
for..."

"For beverages?" Jeff asked.

"Yes," said Svetlana. "For beverages."

"Well," said Jeff, producing a business card. "I appreciate the
sentiment, but just in case you ever get thirsty, here's my number. I
realize this is kind of forward, but it's a big campus and I don't
know if I'll get a chance to see you again otherwise."

Svetlana took the card and smiled at Jeff. After all, he was right. It
didn't cost her anything to take the card and she would probably never
see him again.

                                     -=-
                                     
Jeff was not the last man to try to get her attention. Svetlana did
nothing to try to attract them, but she could not get through a week
without a fellow student trying to ask her out. Some of them were
quite persistent.

She also turned out to be incorrect about not seeing Jeff again. His
apartment was on the way to her own. Plus, for a big campus, they
seemed to end up in the same places far more often than pure chance
would seem to dictate. Still, he was never pushy. He asked her out
once more and, when Svetlana deferred, he said, "Well, if you ever
just want to hang out, let me know." And, he didn't bring the subject
up again.

It was a frosty evening in November when Svetlana found herself
staring at one of the blank walls of her apartment. College had turned
out to be much easier than she'd expected. After a slow start, she was
easily keeping up with her work and found herself with many free hours
during the week.

She'd managed to fill those hours for a while. There was plenty of
research and planning to do. But, it didn't last as long as she'd
thought it would. As the empty hours seemed to get longer and darker,
she found herself watching television. And, it wasn't even good
television. It was anything to break the silence.

The television had been on for hours and, if pressed, Svetlana could
not have named one show that flickered by. She was feeling a deep
sense of ennui and, while the weather could account for some of that,
she knew what the underlying cause was.

She was lonely. Even when she'd been a virtual prisoner in the house
in Mannsborough, she'd had the household staff to amuse her. In
Boston, she had no one. She'd made no friends among her fellow
students and deliberately isolated herself from the Vandevoorts.

Holding the phone in her hand, she considered the options for who she
could call. Jake, who had been her keeper for Ivan, was here, but she
didn't have his new number. It was a shame. He had always been kind to
her and never taken advantage of her desire to embarrass her husband
with members of his own staff.

It would have to be one of her collegiate suitors then. Only a half
dozen had ever advanced to giving her their phone number. She laid
those numbers out and considered all her options. Finally, she chose
one--a handsome young man from a family that had made its fortune in
cement in Mexico. He clearly considered himself suave. And, if their
reactions were any indication, so did most of the young women around
him. Svetlana found him somewhat pompous and cocky, but not
overwhelmingly so.

When she called him, he was gracious. He invited her to one of the
more posh restaurants in Boston for that weekend. That gave Svetlana a
day of shopping to find clothes, shoes and jewelery appropriate for
the venue. Anything like that, she'd left in Mannsborough or with
Karl.

Dinner was lovely. Eduardo turned out to be capable of a good deal of
charm. But, he was too intent on impressing her with his family's
connections and holdings.

After dinner, she let him take her back to his apartment. She had
recognized she was lonely, but hadn't realized she missed this too.
Sex had been a tool for getting what she wanted. But, finding that she
wanted nothing from Eduardo, she discovered that the sex could be good
for its own sake.

Besides, if she hadn't slept with him, Eduardo would have taken it as
an affront to his pride. This way, he called her back only once,
offering her answering machine some vague promise to get together
again. Svetlana hadn't returned his call and he hadn't called again.

She tried the next most likely name on her list to the same effect.
Not easily daunted, she tried the third. He turned out to be a little
bit more suitable--an adjunct professor a few years older than her
with a sense of humor and an air of erudition. But, that fizzled out
by mid-December, leaving Svetlana with precious few options.

By then, finals were coming up and Svetlana found it easy to push
aside the question of her boredom. She applied herself to her studies
and ended up scoring extremely well on her tests.

As such, the end of the semester and the reality of Christmas looming
just ahead took her entirely by surprise. She found herself staring
out the window on the evening of the twenty-second and realizing she
was going to spend the holiday alone. It shouldn't matter, but
somehow, it did.

One thing she'd realized from her foray into dating again was that she
didn't need romance or even sex as much as she needed companionship.
She'd even started to grow nostalgic for her tiny apartment in Moscow
and her roommates. Only one person had offered her friendship with no
strings attached. He probably hadn't meant it, but it was a start.

So, she dialed the first number she'd been given since starting
college. On the other end, the phone didn't ring, but went straight to
voice mail. So, she left her number and asked Jeff to call her back.

"Svetlana?" the voice on the other end of the phone asked.

"Jeff?" she asked. "It's good to hear from you."

"I was surprised to hear from you," he said. "Merry Christmas."

Svetlana suppressed a giggle at the sentiment, "Thank you, Jeff. What
are you and your friends up to tonight? I'm bored."

Jeff muttered something unintelligible, then said, "I'm at the airport
in Des Moines. I came home for Christmas. Are you still in Boston?"

"Yes," said Svetlana. "Boston is home now."

"Oh, well, I'm really sorry I'm not there now. Are you going to be all
right?"

"Of course," she said with forced gaiety. "I do not know why
I...spaced on you going home for the break."

"Listen," said Jeff. "I've got to go down to the baggage carousels
before they decide my suitcase is a bomb or something. I'm sure to
lose you then. But, let's definitely get together some time after I
come back."

"All right," said Svetlana. "Take care, Jeff."

"You too," said Jeff. "And have a Merry Christmas. Say hello to your
family for me."

The afternoon of Christmas Eve, Svetlana was convivially drunk on
sherry when she made a decision. She had managed to get a hold of one
more number she could call. It had taken a lot of effort, but she
nearly didn't use it anyway.

Finally, she dialed. When the man on the other end answered, she
identified herself.

The man on the other end sounded wary, "Mrs. Vandevoort."

Svetlana smiled into the phone, "Please, Jake. I have not been Mrs.
Vandevoort since July. It is just Sveta now, Sveta Kyznetsov. How have
you been?"

"Incredibly busy," said Jake. "And stressed. Hazel and I got divorced
earlier this month."

Svetlana had thought Jake's divorce final while he was still in the
employ of her husband. How had she gotten that detail wrong?
Momentarily taken aback, she asked, "How is your son. Dylan?"

"Darwin," Jake corrected her. "He's doing well. He still doesn't
understand why his mother went away, but he's looking forward to
Christmas."

"Oh," said Svetlana. She found herself at a loss for words.

"Are you still in Boston?" Jake asked.

"Yes," she said. "I am going back to school."

"Really?" asked Jake.

Svetlana laughed, "You don't need to sound so surprised. I do not
intend to become one of these useless women who lives only to spend
her alimony."

Jake chuckled, "There was never much of a chance of that."

Again, the awkward silence spread out.

"Listen," Jake asked. "What are you planning on doing for Christmas?" 

"I will be celebrating in the Russian way."

"Sveta," said Jake. "Are you all right. You sound a little...drunk."

"Da," she said. "That is how we celebrate the holidays in the Russian
way."

"Listen," he said. "I don't know if this is something you would be
even remotely interested in, but it's just Darwin, my father, and me
here for tonight and Christmas, but we're doing it up right. If you
wanted to come by, I'd be happy to set a place for you."

She didn't answer for so long that Jake asked, "Sveta?"

Finally getting her tears under control, Svetlana said, "I would like
that, Jake."

                                     -=-
                                     
Svetlana considered what she would wear. She started out considering
the dresses she'd bought for dating but discarded them quickly. They
were beautiful and flattering. But, they made her look like Mrs.
Vandevoort and that would not do.

She considered what she was wearing--blue jeans and a black
sweatshirt. That would never do. It would make Jake think she was
destitute. She decided to swap the sweatshirt for a sweater--warm and
cable-knit, but form fitting where it mattered.

As she was looking for the sweater, Svetlana let her hand linger on
her favorite blouse. It was dark green silk, brought out her eyes, and
flattered her form. It was the only thing Karl bought her that she
kept. Tucking it into her blue jeans, she examined herself in the
mirror. Buttoned up, it was almost demure. With one button undone, it
offered a hint of sin without being overt. It was perfect.

                                     -=-
                                     
Jake's father arrived at Svetlana's door soon after she was dressed.
When Jake had insisted she not drive, she'd offered to take a cab.
But, Jake said, his father had to run out for some groceries anyway
and would swing by to pick her up.

Unlike Jake, his father was skinny and gray, almost wiry. When
Svetlana greeted him, he eyed her up and down carefully. Then, he
grunted. But, it didn't seem like an unfriendly grunt.

Riding along in the passenger seat of the man's station wagon,
Svetlana couldn't help but notice that he kept glancing over at her as
if he wanted to say something.

"Are you looking at something, Mr. Steiner?" she asked as pleasantly
as she could.

"Never mind," he said. "And never mind this 'Mr. Steiner' nonsense. My
name is Abe."

"All right, Abe," said Svetlana. "But, you obviously wanted to say
something. What is it?"

"I was just remembering what my father told me when he first met my
second wife, long before she became my second wife."

"What did he tell you?" Svetlana asked.

"He told me that the only reason God gives some women red hair is to
serve as a warning to others."

Svetlana laughed, "Your second wife was a redhead, then?"

"Was and still is," said Abe. "Although it's purely from a bottle
now."

"My father would probably agree," said Svetlana amicably. "My mother
and sister both have this hair, too."

                                     -=-
                                     
When she got to Jake's house, Svetlana was surprised to find it
bedecked with blinking lights and set up inside with both a Christmas
tree and a Menorah. She smiled when he took her coat, "Jake, this is
positively...homey. I never knew you had it in you."

Jake grunted, "It wasn't really a side I wanted to show at work. But,
this is a social call. Right?"

Svetlana kissed him on the cheek, "Of course, Jake. It is good to see
you again."

"It's good to see you too, Svetlana," said Jake. "Although, I'm sure
it's not the sort of celebration you're used to."

Svetlana didn't laugh, but her eyes reflected her amusement, "I would
hope not. Christmas with the Vandevoorts was always such a bore except
when it was absolutely horrible. But, I must warn you. I have
absolutely no idea what to do at this sort of thing."

"Neither do I," said Jake. "I've been taking lessons from Abe.
Christmas with Hazel was...unique. And, this is the first year we're
celebrating Chanukah."

Svetlana looked around, "I didn't even know you were Jewish. I thought
you were Italian."

Jake smiled, "A lot of people make that mistake."

"I knew it was a mistake to tell him he was Jewish," said Abe. "At
least he didn't do like his brother who went to Israeli and became a
goddamned paratrooper. Now, he won't eat anything I cook." So saying,
he looked like he remembered something and headed off to the kitchen.

Svetlana smiled, "Your father is quite the character."

Jake nodded, "That he is, but you'd better get used to calling him
Abe. He tells everyone he's my brother."

As Svetlana took a step towards the living room where she could hear
the television, Jake laid a light, but firm hand on her arm, "This
way, please. So, we can get a chance to talk before you meet Darwin."

Svetlana looked up into his eyes. He was still friendly and relaxed.
But, there was a hint of the old business there. It said that he
wanted to welcome her into his home, but needed to make sure that she
was on the up-and-up.

"All right, Jake," she said quietly, going where she was directed.

The room he led her to was dominated by a regulation-size poker table
on one side and a wet bar on the other. Jake went to the wet bar, "Can
I offer you something to drink?"

"I've acquired a taste for sherry," admitted Svetlana. "But, if you
don't have any, anything sweet will do."

"Amaretto?"

"Yes. Thank you."

He brought her the glass, "How have you been, Svetlana? I haven't
heard from you since you escaped."

Svetlana laughed, "I guess I did escape at that. Well, I moved to
Boston because I had...allies here. But, that was instinct. I'm free
of the Vandevoorts and glad to be free of them. I have an opportunity
to get on with my life and I intend to take it."

"I'm glad to hear it," said Jake. "You're really disassociating
yourself from the Vandevoorts?"

She put a hand on his cheek, "Ah, Jake. Always suspicious, aren't you?
Yes. I've let my allies know that I am out of their machinations.
Those who chose not to believe me I betrayed their confidences to my
stepdaughter. They have not troubled me since."

Jake nodded, seemingly lost in thought. Svetlana decided to hazard a
guess as to what he was thinking about, "You knew some of this."

Jake nodded again, "Ivan didn't have a lot of allies in the family.
But, he had enough that we felt it was prudent to keep an eye on the
Vandevoorts in case someone decided to move against Thule as revenge
for what he did."

Svetlana nodded, "There are some who hate Ivan, but will always hate
Thule worse because he besmirched the name. If you like, I will tell
you what I can about them."

Jake was clearly surprised by the offer, "Err...thank you. That would
be very helpful."

"You don't entirely trust me. Do you, Jake?"

"Doveryai no proveryai," Jake offered, shrugging.

Svetlana smiled, "Your pronunciation is very good. Are you learning
Russian?"

"A little bit at a time," said Jake. "People who really know the spook
business tell me I won't really understand paranoia until I've read it
in the original Russian...No offense."

Svetlana smiled, "None taken. I think you will make an excellent
Russian, Jake."

"So, if you're not involved in family politics anymore, what have you
been doing with yourself?" Jake asked.

"I have taken a little apartment and am attending college," said
Svetlana.

Again, Jake looked surprised, "You're in college?"

"Da," said Svetlana. "In some ways, I have gotten away with being a
child for a long time, Jake. But, it becomes tiresome. And, when
children no longer wish to be children, they go away to college."

Jake shook his head, "I'm just having a hard time getting my brain
around it. You go to class and everything?"

"Well, I go to class," said Svetlana. "But, I am discovering that I do
not do everything. I have not been making the effort to get to know my
classmates. They just seem so...young."

Jake laughed, "You're not that much older than them, you know. But, I
understand what you mean."

"Yes," said Svetlana. "But, this is part of it. I have no friends. My
family is in Moscva and I would not particularly welcome them if they
were closer. If I am going to have a real shot at getting away from
the life I had with the Vandevoorts, I need to build something
better."

After that, the conversation was easier and more relaxed. They caught
up on what each other were doing. Jake asked again if Svetlana was
sure she was going to college.

"If I'm not," she said. "An elaborate prank on a grand scale has been
perpetrated at great expense. I suppose I would not put it past Ivan,
but he does not have the funds anymore."

Jake laughed, "Can't say I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure I must be
fairly low on his list of favorite people right now."

Svetlana's smile was gentler now, "If Tryne is to be believed, Ivan
will not be a problem for a long time."

"I hope she's right."

"So," asked Svetlana. "Do you have a regular poker game in here?"

Jake nodded, "Tuesday nights."

"Can I play?" Svetlana asked, running her fingertips over the felt.

"That's probably not a good idea," said Jake. "It's a pretty tough
game and the stakes are fifty-one hundred."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that you bet fifty or a hundred dollars at a time," said
Jake. "Most players start the night with at least five thousands
dollars. You might want to wait until you resolve the legal problems
with Ivan before you play with that kind of money."

Svetlana smiled again, glad to see that Jake had not been keeping too
close an eye on her, "Jake, it is sweet of you to want to look out for
me. But, I am big girl. Do I have permission to join your little
game?"

"That's cute," said Jake. "When you want something, your accent gets
thicker."

"Thank you," said Svetlana. "Am glad you are likink my technique. May
I join game?"

Jake laughed, "Sure. But, do you even know how to play poker?"

"I know some," she said. "I will probably lose at first. I have not
played for so much or with specific betting limits before. At the
games in Moscow, you could bet whatever you had on the table."

"You know," said Jake, looking hard at her, "I bet you could be a hell
of a poker player, Mrs. Vandevoort."

Svetlana felt an unfamiliar sensation in her cheeks and, for a moment,
wondered if she could have drunk too much already. Then, she realized
what it was and lowered her head.

"Sveta," said Jake. "Are you crying? I'm sorry. I..."

She raised her head to show him she was not crying.

"You're not," said Jake. "You're blushing."

Svetlana shook her head, "Impossible. I can not catch embarrassment.
I'm a carrier."

"My mistake," said Jake, a look of deep amusement on his face. "I
guess you must still be flushed from the cold. We should see what Abe
is up to. The last time I left him alone in the kitchen this long with
Darwin running around, he was explaining to my son what an orgasm
was."

                                     -=-
                                     
Darwin had apparently worn himself out. He was nowhere to be seen.
Jake checked his room, came back, and said, "Sleeping. I can't believe
it. Of course, he'll be up at four a.m., but it's amazing."

"He may be awake," said Abe. "But, he won't be up. I told him that the
Chanukah Hobgoblin hangs around until sunrise and, if he sees little
boys wandering around, he breaks their toys."

Svetlana laughed, "Surely, he did not believe..."

"Jesus Christ," said Jake. "I knew when I was listing stories you were
not to tell Darwin, I missed one. Do you know I slept with a light on
until I went away to college because of that goddamned story?"

Svetlana found that she couldn't stop laughing once she started. Jake
and Abe decided to let Darwin sleep through dinner. Apparently, he'd
been awake until three a.m. before finally giving up the ghost.

"The worst part is," Jake told her when his father was in the kitchen.
"The little bastard doesn't even believe in Santa Claus. Hazel and I
decided it would be better to raise him to be rational. We just talk
about Santa in front of Abe so that we don't ruin his fun."

"Jake," said Svetlana, lowering her head, "You must have mercy on me.
My ribs and face hurt like I've been worked over. You need to stop
being so funny."

Jake put on his professional thug face, "Yes, ma'am."

This, of course, set Svetlana off into another wave of laughter.

Besides the banter, dinner was made up of wave after wave of more food
than the three of them could have eaten if they'd been joined by five
times their numbers. As he was dishing out the main course, Abe talked
about the palate cleanser and desserts he'd prepared.

"Abe," asked Svetlana. "Are you sure you're not Italian? Besides the
fact that I would have been dead by now if I tried eating everything
you made, nearly all of this food is...well, Italian."

Abe smiled, "My first wife, Angelica, swore she would never marry a
man who could not make ossobuco to her liking. So, I studied cooking
for six months. Then, the night I proposed to her, I made her a dinner
much like the one you see before you--except, of course that the main
course was ossobuco over cappelini."

Svetlana put her hands on her hips, "Abe, if you don't stop, you're
going to make me start believing in romance."

"Perish the thought," said Abe, clutching his chest as if he'd been
stabbed. "I was just following the first rule of attraction."

"Which is?" Svetlana asked.

Jake put a hand to his temples, "Don't encourage him."

"The first rule of attraction," said Abe. "Is that, if you can give a
woman good food and orgasms, she will never leave you."

Svetlana found herself laughing so hard that tears were rolling down
her cheeks. When she finally managed to catch her breath, Jake
deadpanned, "And that....is why he was explaining to my four year-old
son what an orgasm is."

                                     -=-
                                     
After dinner, the palate cleanser, dessert, and coffee with biscotti,
Abe stretched dramatically, "If you don't mind, son, I'm going to take
care of last few dishes in the morning. I'm beat."

"All right, dad," said Jake, kissing his father on the cheek. "Sleep
well."

"I will," Abe agreed. "I'll sleep like a rock. I probably wouldn't
wake up if a herd of hippos stampeded through my room. Good night,
son. Good night, Svetlana. It was lovely meeting you."

Jake shook his head at his father's receding back, "And that was Abe
at his most subtle."

Svetlana laughed, "Your brother is charming. I see where you get it."

Jake laughed, "I didn't get it at all. In his day, Abe could charm the
robe off the statue of Justice herself." He rose from the table and
started to collect some of the last few dishes. Svetlana rose to help
him.

"Sveta, you don't have to..."

"I know," she said. "But, I want to. I am learning to take care of
myself and I will tell you a secret."

"What?"

"I am starting to enjoy this sort of thing," she said, scooping up the
last plate and heading into the kitchen before he could answer.

As they worked together to get the dishes clean enough to go in the
diswasher, Svetlana said, "Jake, I want to tell you deeper secret."

He paused at what he was doing, "Yes?"

"I am not really starting to enjoy this sort of thing," she said.
"But, I am hoping, if I tell myself that I am enjoying it, eventually
I will forget that it is not entirely true."

Jake chuckled, "You don't have to enjoy it, you know."

Svetlana smiled, "I know. But, it would make these things easier."

                                     -=-
                                     
Later, Svetlana was helping Jake carry presents from his bedroom
closet to the tree in the living room. She smiled at him as he
extracted a bright red tricycle.

"I thought you were Mr. Security Man now," she teased. "And the best
security you can come up with is hiding things in the back of the
closet?"

Jake laughed, "I considered a biometric lock on the closet, but that
seemed a bit extreme for outwitting a four year-old."

Once the tricycle was in place, Jake said, "I should get your room set
up."

Svetlana looked across the living room at him. The overhead lights
were turned way down so that he was backlit by the colored lights of
the Christmas tree. Svetlana wished she could see his face, but knew
that it rarely revealed more than Jake wanted people to know.

She lowered her head, letting her hair fall into her face to give
herself some of the same anonymity, "That's not necessary."

Jake didn't move or answer for a few seconds. Svetlana wasn't sure he
was even breathing. He seemed to be watching her intently as if
looking for some misunderstanding. Then, he said, "Sveta, that's not a
good idea."

Svetlana took a step towards him. He didn't move. She took another,
which left her standing right in front of him, nearly touching. She'd
been ready for this. Jake was the only man who had ever declined her
advances with any consistency. Reaching up, she drew his head down,
going up on tiptoes to kiss him.

For a second, she thought she'd failed. Then, she felt Jake's arms
around her, crushing her to him. One hand cradled the back of her head
as if afraid of the kiss ending. He loosened his grip on her only
reluctantly. When he looked down at her, his sides were heaving like a
racehorse, but his face still unreadable.

"Svetlana," he said, his voice gravelly. "This is a really bad idea.
I'm still in love with my wife."

Svetlana considered letting him off the hook then wondered if that
were really possible at this point. Jake still hadn't released his
hold around her waist. She could feel his desire for her like an iron
bar against her belly. If she agreed now and told him to go set up the
guest room, he might not be able to control himself. The idea was
intriguing. Ivan could not have known how well he'd chosen when he
named Jake her "protector." When she had turned her attention and her
charms on him, Jake had turned her down as if it were a matter of
form. After three blatant attempts to seduce him, Svetlana had gotten
no better response than, "I'll come back when you're dressed." At that
point, she had given up and declared him incorruptible. The idea of
having him out of control with desire was both amusing and arousing.

But, Svetlana realized that she actually wanted Jake. It was something
she hadn't felt in a long time. There were plenty of times that she
wanted sex, but who her partner was had always ranked far down her
list of concerns. This desire for a specific person was something she
hadn't felt since she'd been a gangly adolescent. She was stunned to
discover that the quality of desire had not dimmed any since that
time.

Jake was a good man, far better than most Svetlana had associated
with. When she had been at dagger's length with Ivan and her husband
doing his best to prove that he could isolate and control her, Jake
had dared to be kind to her. Svetlana's response to Ivan's attempt to
control her had been almost instinctive. She knew that it would hurt
him twice for his wife to be with his hired help. In Ivan's mind, he
was supposed to own and control wife and servant both. Svetlana knew
that her actions succeeded in hurting him deeply, but they made her
ultimate escape far more difficult.

Of all Ivan's employees she'd tried to seduce, Jake was the only one
who didn't respond with cruelty or revulsion. He'd understood long
before Svetlana herself did that she needed to be rescued. And, long
after he'd lost his taste for working with Ivan, he'd stayed to make
sure that Svetlana was as safe as he could make her. Jake had never
told her as much, but Svetlana had always known.

Svetlana had given up trying to seduce Jake because she knew his code
of honor would never let him touch the boss's wife, but even now, he
was holding back, afraid to do the wrong thing. It was perhaps the
sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her.

So, she didn't tease or try to drive him to ravishment. Instead, she
said, "I don't doubt that you still love her or that you always will.
Your loyalty is touching. But, she is not your wife anymore. Ivan is
not my husband or your boss. Whatever happens tonight is not about
them. It is between us." Then, in case her words were not enough, she
reached down and took that iron rod in her hand through his pants.

Jake closed his eyes, his whole body trembling. Her name came out of
him as a moan, "Sveta."

"Jake," she whispered next to his ear, "please..."

Whether it was the "please" or her hand stroking him, a dam broke. His
hands were under her bottom, lifting her, driving her back against the
wall with enough force to knock the air out of her lungs momentarily.
His mouth sought and found hers. His hips kept her pinned to the wall
while his hands fumbled with the buttons of her blouse.

Svetlana found that she could not resist driving Jake at least a
little bit wild. Her voice husky, she whispered in his ear, "You know,
I never really liked this blouse that much."

Jake had never been slow on the uptake. Even before she'd finished
taking the breath at the end of her sentence, she heard buttons
clattering on the floor and felt the fabric torn away and then down,
off her shoulders before falling to the floor. A moment later, her bra
joined it and Jake's head was at her breast.

Svetlana moaned under the onslaught of his lips, tongue, and teeth.
And an onslaught it was. Svetlana was not used to such intensity. Most
men she'd been with maintained a certain distance even at the height
of passion. The wanted not Svetlana so much as what she represented or
would represent once she became their possession. Only Thule and,
ironically, Ivan their first time had made love to her with anything
approaching Jake's intensity of purpose.

At some point, Jake must have removed Svetlana's pants because she
suddenly realized she was naked as she spread her legs to his hand.
Even as his fingers found his way inside of her, Svetlana was
unbuckling Jake's belt and sliding down his pants. She smiled wryly at
his near-frantic abandon only to realize a moment later that she was
responding in the same way. For the first time in as long as she could
remember under such circumstances, Svetlana felt a moment of doubt.
This sort of need was too strong. It clouded her head and made it hard
to think. Svetlana prided herself on always being in control, but that
control was fraying by the moment.

"Jake..." she moaned, wanting to ask him to slow down or maybe stop.
But, even to her own ears, there was only need and desire in her
voice. Jake responded to that need, driving into her. Svetlana wrapped
her legs around his broad waist barely able to lock her feet together
behind him. As his hips pummeled hers, Svetlana clung to Jake, burying
her face in his shoulder, then biting his neck to keep from crying
out.

In spite of their precarious pose, it seemed to go on for a long time.
Svetlana kept her eyes pressed closed, condensing the world to the
sensation of this man inside of and around her. Svetlana was quaking,
not just with pleasure and desire, but also at the sensation of being
claimed. Men had tried to claim her before, but there had never been
any danger of them succeeding.

Svetlana missed Jake's orgasm, too rapt in her own pleasure. She was
aware of it only after the fact as a heat inside of her as Jake
gathered her in his arms, kissing her forehead and finally letting her
feet touch the ground.

As Jake leaned down to gather her clothes, Svetlana tried to find her
composure. But, as she leaned against the wall, the waves of pleasure
flowed over her, making her knees weak and keeping her head swimming.

She didn't notice she was crying until Jake asked, "Sveta, what's
wrong?" and brushed a tear off her cheek.

Svetlana shook her head and said, "Nothing at all is wrong. Take me to
bed now, Jake."

Jake obliged, lifting her gently and carrying her in both arms,
nuzzled against his chest like a drowsy child. Pressed against his
side in bed, Svetlana felt a momentary urge to flee, but she was still
unsure of her legs and Jake seemed to have no intention of letting her
go.

After a while, Jake said, "You know, I really didn't have this in mind
when I invited you to come over."

"The possibility occurred to me when I accepted," said Svetlana. "But,
I was really just looking for company. I did not know what a dramatic
effect your home would have on me."

For the next two weeks of winter break, Svetlana spent two or three
days at a time at Jake's house, coming home for more clothes but also
for her privacy and some time to recover from Darwin. He was the most
well-behaved, serious, and sedate four year-old boy she had ever met,
but he was still a four year-old boy.

Darwin's presence may have made it easier for Svetlana and Jake to
enjoy each other's company because it was clear so early on that they
had no long-term future. Jake brought it up after a few days.

"Tsarina," he said. They were lying in bed, both post- and pre-coital.

"Yes, my bull?" Svetlana asked. She'd never been in a relationship
where pet names would have been appropriate before, but found she
liked the tradition.

"I..." said Jake. He paused as if considering his words carefully,
"I've been very happy being with you. I was deeply unhappy when Hazel
left and this has been..."

Svetlana kissed his shoulder, "Almost as good?"

Jake chuckled, "I was going to say, 'exactly what I needed.' I
definitely was not going to say that it was almost as good. It's
certainly been better than..."

Svetlana put a finger on his lips, "Jake, you do not need to spare my
feelings. I know what this is and what it isn't."

Jake kissed the top of Svetlana's head, hugging her to his chest.

She said, "I like your son very much, but..."

"You're not ready to be a stepmother again."

Svetlana smiled, "Definitely not. I am too young and beautiful. Darwin
would fall in love with me. It would be very confusing for him."

Jake chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. Then, he said, "I'm not
looking to replace Hazel. But, when I do, But, when I do, it will be
for someone that can replace her--both in my life and my son's."

Svetlana nodded, "I know that. Anyone who sees you together knows how
much you love your son."

Jake held her, his fingertips stroking her bare back. Finally, he
said, "I really don't expect to be looking for someone any time soon."

Svetlana laughed, "I like fucking you, Jake."

Jake laughed, "I like fucking you too, Svetlana."

Svetlana kissed his chest, "I need to make a life for myself at
school. I have no friends. I don't go to parties. I don't date..."

Jake laughed long and hard. When he finally recovered, he said, "I'm
sorry. I just can't imagine you dating college boys. The poor bastards
have no idea what they're in for."

Svetlana kissed his chest again, sliding so that she straddled him at
the waist, then kissed him again on the mouth, "I will try to give
them fair warning."

                                     -=-
                                     
Jeff called Svetlana to let her know that he and his friends were
getting together for drinks the night that he flew in from Iowa.
Svetlana agreed to join them.

They met at one of the bars that Jeff had commented catered to college
students. This turned out to mean that they didn't check IDs very
closely or often. Svetlana found that she was flattered Jeff believed
this would be a concern.

Even though it was snowing outside, the mood inside was convivial.
Practically everyone in the bar was a college student. Many of them
had arrived back in Boston earlier in the day after family visits.
Every time she looked up, someone else was hugging or kissing as if
they had been separated for months instead of weeks.

There was no one to greet her like that of course. Jeff kissed her
politely on the cheek and complimented her on her sweater. Without
being obsessive about it, he made sure to introduce her to everyone
that came to the table to see him and to include her in the
conversation. The traffic coming through seemed nearly constant. Many
of the faces Svetlana knew from her classes. Now, she was given names
to match up with them.

They stayed late into the night. Svetlana wasn't sure how they did it.
By three, she was flagging, but Jeff and his friends still seemed to
be going strong. She finally rose to take her leave.

"I'll walk you home," said Jeff.

Svetlana waved him off, "That is not necessary. You three are having
fun. It is very safe walk from here."

Jeff's roommate Tug stretched dramatically, "Actually, I need to be
getting back too. How about you, Ralph?"

Ralph looked around, having been only half listening, "What? Oh, yeah.
I'm absolutely beat. I'm just going to talk to Emily, then straight to
bed for me."

Svetlana couldn't resist teasing them, "So, if you are heading back to
the apartment, you could walk part of the way with us, Tug."

Tug looked to Jeff for help. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Actually,
I need to head the other way first."

"Oh," said Svetlana, nodding as if he'd said something wise.

"If you would be more comfortable with both of us walking you home,
I'm sure that thing could wait," Jeff said.

Svetlana laughed. It was considerate of Jeff to offer a chaperone, but
Svetlana had decided she needed one with Jeff about as much as she
needed a gun. If the easy-going young man was a threat to her, she
might as well give up on trying to judge people at all.

When the lights and noise of the bar had faded behind the horizon,
Jeff said, "Tug, Ralph, and I are having some friends over next
weekend...just to catch up and everything. It won't exactly be a
party, but..."

"Jeff..."

Jeff looked at her, clearly bracing himself for rejection. Svetlana
said, "If you still wanted to, you should ask me out on a date again."

Jeff didn't miss a beat, "Svetlana, would you like to go out to dinner
tomorrow night?"

Svetlana laughed, "No, Jeff. I am busy tomorrow night." The mix of
emotions on his face caused her to laugh again, "I mean it. I am busy
tomorrow night. I have a poker game. But, I am not busy Friday."

Jeff laughed, a sound that was more relief than mirth, "Svetlana,
would you like to go to dinner Friday night?"

"All right," said Svetlana. "That sounds nice."

They walked a little way together. Svetlana said, "You will not be
able to keep up with me, I think."

"I know," said Jeff. "But, I'm a fast study."

Svetlana turned to face him, "How do you know that? I have given you
some reason to believe I am wild party girl?"

Jeff frowned thoughtfully at her.

"What?" Svetlana asked. "Jeff, was joke."

"Can I ask you a question?" Jeff asked. Svetlana nodded.

Jeff took a deep breath, "Are you Svetlana Vandevoort?"

Svetlana was shocked. For the most part, her name had stayed out of
the press. No one had harassed her about the trial since the first few
days. To her knowledge, the press didn't even know she was at Boston
College.

"No," she answered. "But, I was once."

Jeff nodded and started walking again. Svetlana followed a few steps,
then asked, "Do you still want to date me?"

Jeff nodded, "I suspected you were from very early on. You're
too...striking to be anyone else. Once I started to realize, I felt
kind of stupid for ever having asked you out."

Svetlana slipped her arm into the crook of his, "It was very
presumptuous of you. I am apparently very famous."

Jeff shook his head, "Actually, you've done a good job of keeping a
low profile. I only know who you are because I saw your picture in a
news story, standing behind your husband. You were turned away from
the camera, but I thought it might be you. After that, I did some
research."

Svetlana smiled, "Did you find anything interesting?"

"Apparently, men who fetishize redheads obsess over you. There are
only maybe a couple dozen real pictures of you out there, but they
pass them around among themselves as if they were baseball cards."

Svetlana chuckled, "If there are so few, it must be easy to make the
full set."

Jeff shook his head, "The real ones are easy to get. But, there are
fakes as well."

"Fakes?"

Jeff nodded, "Sometimes, people create composite photos."

"Really?" asked Svetlana, amused. "Are they any good?"

Jeff blushed. Svetlana waited patiently for him to find his voice.
Finally, he said, "Most of them are quite crude--both in technique and
subject matter. Nobody would really believe they were you."

"Most?" Svetlana asked.

Jeff said, "I've already said way too much. That'll teach me to drink
before talking to you."

Svetlana laughed, "See? You are having trouble keeping up with me
already. I am curious about these fakes. Did you see many of them?"

"I...uh, didn't look really hard for them."

"You didn't want to see pictures of me?" Svetlana asked, enjoying his
discomfort.

Jeff shook his head, "I did. That's why I searched at first. But, I
didn't want to see what people were doing with your face. It
was...disturbing."

"So," said Svetlana. "Tell me about some of the less disturbing
things."

"Well," said Jeff, taking a deep breath. "There was one I was never
sure was a fake. It was supposed to be you on a topless beach in
France or Spain."

Svetlana shook her head, "I have never been to Europe."

"Oh," said Jeff. He sounded disappointed.

"So," said Svetlana. "Tell me about one of the disturbing ones."

"I..." Jeff's voice trailed off. "Why?"

"I want to know if these people are more creative than I am."

Jeff detached their arms, taking a few steps ahead of her. Svetlana
was afraid she had pushed him too hard. But, she had to know if she
was going to scare the boy off before she got too involved with him.

"Well," he said. "There's one that's not really a fake. It's a real
video that looks like it was taken from an ATM surveillance camera.
Some people claim it's you and Thule Roemer." He laughed.

"Oh," said Svetlana, trying not to let anything show in her face. "How
funny."

When they arrived at her front door, Jeff said, "This was a fun
evening, Svetlana. I'm glad you came out."

"Me, too," said Svetlana. "I am looking forward to dinner Friday."

Svetlana leaned towards him, indicating that it would be okay to kiss
her good night. Jeff took the opportunity instead to hug her warmly.
She looked up at him, blinking her surprise.

"Good night, Svetlana," he said. She nodded, surprised at his
restraint.

She got up to her living room window in time to see his back receding
down the street. He seemed to be doing a little dance of some sort.
Sitting, watching him out the window, Svetlana knew there wasn't a
chance in hell he would keep up with her, but she hoped he would try.