Chapter 7

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I went quietly downstairs to knock on Aunt Vikki's office. There was light under the door, and I heard my aunt approaching from the inside.

"Piper, is that you?" she said.

"No, it's me," I replied.

"Oh, Nina, please come on in," she said after she opened the door and held it wider for me to enter. Aunt Vikki was her husband's personal accountant. She worked from home most of the time and only went out to meetings if needed be.

Inside the room, there was a smaller fireplace, which didn't burn real fire. It was an electronic heating system.

"Sit down with me," she said, gesturing to the couch. "I haven't had any time alone with you much."

I huddled up close to the fire for it was freezing cold at night in this big house. Aunt Vikki put her work away.

"I'm sorry to interrupt you," I said, but she just shook her head.

"No worries. My work can wait." She smiled again. "How are you doing with school and everything?"

"I've caught up with most of my classes," I told her. "It's a bit easier here than back at home actually."

"I'm glad you don't feel too much pressure," she said and smoothed my hair. "If there is anything you need, don't keep quiet."

I nodded back. I hadn't seen my aunt in person for many years, saved that one winter she visited us in Moscow. I was only twelve at that time. My aunt was a beautiful woman and so caring. When she saw I was shivering, she got up to grab a blanket and wrapped it around my shoulders. Her arms were around me the whole time with a kind honest look. I felt like that was what my mother would do to me.

Before I knew it, Aunt Vikki started telling me about mom. It took me awhile to realize she understood how I must have felt. She told me things I never knew about her— how my mom was a total nerd and had set her heart to go to a university and study classic literature. But then she fell in love with my father and dropped her dream and married him.

I wondered what was so special about Pyotr Volkov.

From the top drawer of her desk, Aunt Vikki took out a framed picture of two young women in their sky gears and sleds.

"It was taken during a heavy winter in Moscow," she told me and handed me the photo. I stared at the beautiful woman beside my aunt, and I could feel my tears burning. Aunt Vikki rubbed one hand across her eyes.

"I'm sorry if that saddens you, Nina," she apologized, but I shook my head.

"I'm glad you still have this picture."

"I will make a copy for you if you want," she offered.

"That's okay." I smiled back. "I have seen her pictures. It's just this one is not with my dad."

"Your father loves you, Nina," my aunt said in a rather pity tone. "He just has a lot on his plate right now, but I'm sure he thinks better of your future. That's why he sent you here."

I didn't say anything. I wished I could believe my aunt, but I just couldn't. I heard her sigh and got up from the couch again.

"It's late now. You better get back to bed."

I looked up from the picture and remembered why I was here.

"Actually, Aunt Vikki, I wanted to talk to you about something else," I said, causing her to raise an eyebrow.

"Oh, what is it?"

"Er...I just think that the cost to hire a cook is quite outrageous here," I started a little awkwardly. "I've been pretty good at reading recipes, and I know how to cook quite well if I dare say so myself. I think if you allow me, I can make do with that."

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