Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [26]
"Alex. You can't start something and not finish it."
"We're here to solve the story of your life, not mine," he reminded her. "Let's keep our focus." He opened the door and waved her inside. "After you."
As Julia entered the restaurant, the delicious smells of fresh breads and cakes assailed her. The bakery counter was immediately to her left, the deli counter on the other side of the room, a crush of small tables in the middle. It was a little late for lunch, but there was still a good crowd, so they took a number and waited. As they did so, Julia searched her brain for some sense of familiarity with the Russian smells. They warmed her heart, made her mouth water, but was that just because they were so tantalizing or because she remembered them?
A short, round woman in her fifties with dark brown hair, black eyes, and a nurturing smile called their number, then greeted Alex by name when they stepped up to the counter.
"You have been a stranger," she said with a heavy accent. "Where have you been?"
"All over the world," he replied. "I brought a friend with me today. Julia, this is Dasha." Julia smiled and said hello as Alex went on to explain. "Julia has a Russian doll that she found in her mother's things. We're hoping, if you have a few minutes, you might talk to us about it."
"Of course," Dasha said. "I would be happy to look at your doll. But first you will eat. What do you like?"
"I'm not really sure," Julia said. "It all looks wonderful."
"Then we will give you a sampling. When you come back, you will order your favorites."
"That sounds perfect."
Dasha filled several plates with a variety of foods.
Julia couldn't imagine how they would get through it all. They sat down at a small table against the wall and unloaded their trays. "This is too much," Julia complained. "I'll never eat it all."
"That's what I said the first time, but I was wrong." Alex tipped his head toward the bowl of soup by her elbow. "Try the borscht first," he suggested. "It's the best."
Julia looked down in fascination at the deep purple soup, topped with a dollop of sour cream. "What's in it?" she asked.
"Cabbage, leeks, potatoes, and beets. That's what gives it the purple color."
She took a heaping spoonful, murmuring with appreciation at the delicious taste. "It's good. Hot and hearty." "You're not a picky eater, are you, Julia?" "Not at all. I love to try new food. You?" "I'd starve otherwise. Where I go the food choices can be very exotic." "What's the worst thing you've ever eaten?" Alex thought for a moment. "A wormlike bug in the Amazon. They fry 'em up like french fries, but they still taste like worms." "Why did you eat it?"
"I was hungry," he said with a laugh. "And I didn't want to offend my host. I was hoping to get his permission to take some photographs, so I ate what he ate."
She admired his determination. "Are there some lines you won't cross to get your shot?"
"Not that I can think of. It's my job to get the picture no one else can get. If that means eating worms, I eat worms." He pointed toward her plate. "Try the cabbage rolls next. They're stuffed with beef. Delicious. No worms, I promise," he added with a grin that was incredibly appealing-irresistible in fact. She found herself smiling back and thinking what an interesting man he was and how different from Michael. Alex was worldly, adventurous, and probably a little reckless, or a lot reckless. But she wasn't here to analyze him, she was here to get answers about her doll. Since Dasha still had a line of customers, Julia dug into her cabbage rolls, then a tomato and cucumber salad followed by piroshki, pastry puffs filled with chicken. When she pushed her plate away, she was completely stuffed. "I'm never eating again," she said.
"You haven't tried any of the desserts yet."
"Stop. You are a bad influence." As she finished speaking, Dasha came over to their table.
"Did you enjoy?" she asked, smiling at their empty plates.
"Very much," Julia replied. "It was all wonderful."
"Good. Now, you wanted to ask me something." She