“Is that how you think of me? As your grandmother's friend?” She didn't want to say yes, but it was. He seemed a thousand years old as he stood looking at her. “Do I seem so old to you then?”
“Not at all … I'm sorry … I have to go. … I'll be late and they'll be very angry at me.”
“Let me drive you then. We can talk on the way.”
She hesitated, but she was going to be late. Reluctantly, she let him open the taxi door for her and she stepped in, leaving the white roses between them on the seat. It was nice of him to bring her gifts, but she knew that he could ill afford to bring her anything. No wonder Yelena was annoyed at them.
“How is Yelena?” she asked to pass the time as they drove, and she avoided his eyes, as she glanced at the other cars and then slowly back at him. “She seemed very quiet last night.”
“She's not happy here.” He sighed. “I don't suppose many of us are. It's such a sudden change, and no one was prepared….” He said the words and then reached over and touched her hand, startling her with what he said next. “Zoya, do you think that I'm too old for you, my dear?”
Her voice caught in her throat and she gently took her hand away. “You're my father's friend.” Her eyes were sad as she looked at him. “It's hard for all of us, we are all clinging to what we no longer have. Perhaps I am part of that for you.”
He smiled. “Is that what you think it is? Do you know that you're very beautiful?”
She could feel herself blush and silently cursed the fair skin that went with her fiery hair. “Thank you very much. But I'm younger than Yelena … I'm sure she'd be very upset….” It was all she could think of as she wished they would get to the Châtelet so she could escape him.
“She has her own life to live, Zoya. And I have mine. I would like to take you to dinner sometime. Perhaps at Maxim's.” It was madness … the champagne … the roses … the idea of dinner at Maxim's. They were all starving, he was driving a cab, she was dancing with the Ballet Russe, and there was no point spending the little he had on her. He was far too old, but she didn't want to be rude.
“I don't think Grandmama …” She turned unhappy eyes to his, and he looked hurt.
“You'd be better off with one of us, Zoya Konstantinovna, someone who knows your world, than with some young fool.”
“I don't have time for any of that, Vladimir. If they keep me on at the ballet, I'll have to work day and night to keep up.”
“We can find the time. I can pick you up at night …” His voice drifted off as he looked at her hopefully, and she shook her head with an unhappy look.
“I can't … truly … I can't.” She saw with relief that they had arrived, and she turned to look at him for a last time. “Please don't wait for me now. All I want is to forget … what was … we can't bring it back. It wouldn't be right for us … please …” He said nothing as she slipped out of the car and hurried away, leaving the white roses on the seat beside him.
CHAPTER
12
“Did Vladimir bring you home?” Her grandmother smiled at her as she came in, and Zoya noticed with a sinking heart the white roses in a vase next to her on the table.
“No. One of the others gave me a ride.” She sat down with a smile and rubbed her legs. “It was hard today.” But she didn't mind. Dancing with the Ballet Russe made her feel alive again.
“He said he'd bring you home.” Evgenia frowned. He had brought her fresh bread, and a jar of jam. He was such a kind man, and he was being so good to them. And in an odd way, it comforted Evgenia to think of him taking care of Zoya.
“Grandmama …” Zoya looked at her, struggling for the words. “I don't want him to.”
“Why not? You're far safer with him than with someone you don't know.” He had said as much to her himself that afternoon, when he came to the apartment to drop off Zoya's roses,