is always room for one more chair at the table,” he said firmly. “A guest is never turned away.”
The firm tone of his voice made Grace realize this was unswerving ritual, not mere social lip service. This welcome came from old-world hospitality, faithfully preserved in this house. Even if she was an outsider, the knowledge left her feeling a little warmer, harbored against the wind that shook the windows and blanketed the yard with drifts.
This was a real family. The kind Grace used to dream about as an unhappy child. Here there would be laughter and arguments and cooking together around a big stove. Somewhere over the passing years Grace had forgotten about those childhood dreams.
“Are your feet cold?” Tatiana McLeod bustled over, drying her hands on a linen towel.
The woman’s gaze was keen, and Grace felt the force of that scrutiny. “They’re recovering a bit. I smell something wonderful, Mrs. McLeod.”
“Call me Tatiana, please. You are smelling my varenyky. Dumplings, that is. You maybe call them perogies.”
“I love fried dumplings. Do you use sauerkraut inside or turnips and onion? Or simply potatoes?”
“Ah, you know about making varenyky. I am most impressed.”
“I spent some time in Poland last year. I stayed at the University of Warsaw to study for a month.” Grace did not add that she had written a series of articles for a professional English cooking magazine and had won an award for her series.
“Really? You must tell me more.”
“After Poland I visited the Black Sea and was lucky enough to interview the senior chef at the Hotel Odessa. He was a very nice man. He taught me all about varieties of borscht.”
Noah’s mother looked at Grace with outright surprise. “Not many have the good sense to appreciate borscht or our dumplings.” Tatiana wiped her hands on her apron and smiled slowly. “It appears that you are one of the rare few.”
Without looking, Tatiana called to her older son, who was in the process of stealing a cookie from the plate near the window. “No snacking, Reed. You will show good manners before our honored guest, please. That is understood?”
“Yes, Mama.” Reed shook his head. “Although how you have eyes in the back of your head is a mystery to me.”
“Years of practice, my love. There were times I needed them to survive,” Tatiana said quietly. “But enough of that. The food is ready, so now we will eat.”
CHAPTER FOUR
IT WAS A SMALL ROOM, filled with the rich smells that came from slow, loving preparations. Noah’s brother sat beside a petite, animated woman who was sliding a toddler into a high chair. Laughter boomed as food was passed around to the accompaniment of praise and loud arguments. Clearly, everyone had an opinion and even the brothers seemed to know a good deal about cooking. Grace hid her surprise, swept up in the conversation swirling around her. This energetic, nonstop drama was nothing like dinner with her grandfather, though she instantly felt guilty for making comparisons.
Everyone was kind, offering food and including her in the conversation.
When she had eaten eight perogies and couldn’t eat one more mouthful, Grace excused herself to go check on the kittens in the adjacent den, asleep before the fire in a clean box lined with soft flannel sheets. As she stroked their warm fur, she heard Noah lean down beside her.
“Everything okay in here?”
“Just fine. The little ones are sleeping and Mom is getting a well-deserved rest.” Grace smiled as the tiny puppy looked up at Noah and thumped his tail in greeting. “I think he likes you.”
“Good. Because he’s definitely on my wish list. But that’s your call.” He picked up the puppy, his hands gentle. “You’re something special, aren’t you?”
Grace heard the rough tenderness in his voice. His words seemed to melt over her skin.
She pulled away from him, frowning. Angry at herself that she suddenly wanted to lean closer. “Of course you can have him. I couldn’t have got them to safety without you. And it’s clear that he loves you already.” She scratched the puppy gently under the chin. “What are you going to call him?”
“Ivan.” He saw Grace’s questioning look. “As in The Terrible. Since he looks as sweet as sin.” His long fingers skimmed the puppy’s head.
Grace couldn’t seem to look away. “Well. That’s … nice,” she said finally.
Noah shot her a look. “Something tells me that you aren’t used to this kind of chaos. My family gets a bit noisy. At the table you looked a little shell-shocked.”
“I’m not overwhelmed. And I’m not fragile.” Yet, because she felt fragile at that moment, watching Noah stroke the puppy with those careful hands, Grace took a quick breath and squared her shoulders. “I can take care of myself nicely, thank you.”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I said that you weren’t used to all our noise and bickering. Dad tells me it’s a Ukrainian thing. My mom, on the other hand, insists it’s a Scottish thing,” he added drily. “So do you have a big family?”
Grace shook her head. “My grandfather is all. He likes things calm and orderly. Everything in its place.”
Noah sat down beside her on the rug. “Sounds nice.” He put the puppy carefully back in the box. “You’re only staying here in D.C. temporarily, you said. What’s your next assignment?”
“I have a magazine article to finish in Chicago and two workshops to teach in Oregon. Then probably three months in Paris.”
Noah gave a low whistle. “Impressive. But all that travel is going to put a kink in my plan to take you out to dinner.” He gave her a steady, straightforward look. “You’re not involved with anyone, I hope.”
She wasn’t—and she didn’t want to become involved. But how was she going to extricate herself without being terribly rude?
Grace ran a hand through her hair, choosing her words carefully. “I … I was involved with someone. He was English. Wonderful. We were going to be married.” Her hands tightened, and she forced them to relax. “It didn’t work out.”
“Sorry to hear it. What happened?” Noah asked quietly.
“Isn’t that a little personal?”
“Probably. But as you can see, my family doesn’t stand on ceremony. So feel free to tell me to shut up and mind my own business.”
Grace looked out the window at the snow. “What happened was that his airplane was shot down while he was on a diplomatic mission in the Sudan. That was sixteen months ago.”
“I’m really sorry, Grace. Losing him like that—well, it must have been horrible.” Noah studied her face. “You two should have had a lot of happy years in front of you. Probably four or five kids in the works.”
In the works.
Grace closed her eyes tightly, imagining snow swirling against the window. She had wanted children badly. She had wanted a little house with roses at the front door and a knitted afghan on every armchair. She had wanted truth and laughter and trust.
Instead—there had been a thousand deceptions.
James had destroyed their chances when he’d had his first affair. And through each following affair another piece of their future had died. And through it all Grace hadn’t guessed a thing.
But she wouldn’t share those details with a stranger.
“I … I’m learning to deal with the loss. I keep trying to believe that everything happens for a reason.” She raised her chin,