looked back into Axelle's eyes. “I need a job. I'm too old to dance anymore,” she forced the images of the dance hall from her mind, and went on, “and I know something about clothes. Before the war …” She hesitated but forced herself to go on, if she was going to trade on her title, she would have to say something about that. “In St. Petersburg, the women were elegant and beautiful….” She smiled, as Axelle watched.
“Are you related to the Romanovs?” So many minor Russians had made that claim, but something about this girl told her it might be possible. She was prepared to believe anything, as Zoya's green eyes met her own, and she spoke in her gentle voice, primly holding the cup of tea like a lady.
“I am a cousin of the late Tsar, madame.” She said nothing more, and for a long moment Axelle thought. She was worth a try. She might be just what her clients wanted, and how they loved countesses! The idea of a countess serving them would excite them beyond words, Axeile knew.
“I could give you a try, madame … Countess, I suppose I should say. You must use your title here.”
“Of course.” Zoya tried to look calm, but she wanted to shout with glee, like a child … she was going to have a job! At Axelle's! It was perfect. The children would both be in school in the fall, and she would be home by six o'clock every night. It was respectable … it was perfect … she couldn't repress a smile of relief as Axeile smiled at her. “Thank you, madame. Thank you so very much.”
“Let's see how you do.” She stood up to indicate that the audience had come to an end, and Zoya quickly followed suit, carefully setting the teacup down on the tray, as Axeile watched, extemely pleased.
“When would you like to start?”
“How would next week be?”
“Perfect. Nine o'clock. Sharp. And, Countess,” she said the word with practiced ease as she looked at Zoya's dress, “perhaps you'd like to select a dress to wear before you go … something black or navy blue …” She thought of her beloved black Chanel which hadn't recovered from the fire. It still reeked of smoke, no matter what she did to it.
“Thank you very much, madame.”
“Not at all.” She inclined her head grandly, and swept back through the door into the main room of the shop, where a woman in a huge white hat was exclaiming over the shoes. It reminded Zoya that she would have to buy new shoes, with the little money they had left, and she suddenly realized that she had forgotten to inquire about the salary, but it didn't matter now. She had a job, at any price. It was a lot better than selling apples on the street.
She announced the news to the children as soon as she got back, and they went for a walk in the park, and then went back to their hotel to escape the heat. Nicholas was as excited as she, and Sasha inquired with her big blue eyes if they had little girls’ dresses there too.
“No, my love, they don't. But I'll buy you a new dress as soon as I can.” She had bought them the bare minimum after the fire, just as she had for herself, but now a new day had dawned. She had a respectable job, hopefully she'd earn a decent wage. She would never have to dance again. Life was looking up. And then suddenly, with a smile, she wondered if she would see any of her old friends at Axelle's. Just as they had snubbed her, when she'd first come from France, and then fallen in love with her. They had forgotten her completely when Clayton died, and shunned her entirely when they lost everything. How fickle people were, not that she cared. She had her children, that was all she cared about. The rest had come and gone, and come again, and gone again. It didn't matter to her anymore. Just so they survived … life suddenly seemed infinitely precious to her again.
CHAPTER
34
Her days at the shop were tiring and long, the women she served demanded a great deal. They were impetuous and spoiled, some of them were unable to make up their minds, but she was always patient with them, and she found that she had a good eye for what suited them. She was able to take a