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"Thanks for coming early with me, sweetie," I said. We were standing on the balcony overlooking the enormous atrium of the National Art Museum.
Stephen smiled. "You know why I did," he said as he watched the male servers in their tight black uniforms below us.
I patted his arm and smiled. "Whatever works for you."
Beautifully dressed men and women shed their cashmere and fur coats, dropped them off at the coat check, and headed for the bar. Beautiful gowns shimmered and expensive jewelry twinkled everywhere. Drinks in hand, couples looked around for other high powered Washington couples, and found seats at the tables surrounding the dance floor while the orchestra played at the far end.
"Well, all the prep is done. Barring any major catastrophes, all I have to do now is fawn over donors. Shall we join the beautiful people?" I said.
Just at the moment, a woman walked away from the coat check and I stood stock still watching her. She looked like a ghost or a creature out of a Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale. Her hair was completely white, pulled back into an elegant bun near the nape of her long neck. She looked up at the balcony and we made eye contact briefly. I gasped quietly. Her eyes were blue and her stunning off-the-shoulder gown matched. She looked like an icicle glittering in the sun.
She requested a glass of champagne at the bar, and then walked to one of the tables to sit. She was alone, but her husband or date could have been in the restroom. Her expression was difficult to read from this far away.
"Christina?" my friend Stephen said.
"Sorry. I just caught sight..."
"Yeah, I saw her. Wow. But I'm way more interested in that waiter over there...."
I laughed. "Of course you are."
Stephen offered his arm to me and I took it. I had to lift the hem of my deep burgundy dress as we walked down the stairs to the main floor.
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly enough. Stephen and I ate some of the appetizers servers brought around, danced together a couple of times, and chatted with museum donors. But my eyes kept returning to her. The man she'd been talking with had moved on, and other men had come and gone in the seat next to her. That was unusual for her not to have a steady male escort.
Stephen caught me eventually. "She's straight, you know, sweetheart" he said.
"I'm not sure...."
Stephen sighed. "I am. Just once I want you to go after something that's actually available."
"Some
thing
? Shame on you. Is that any way to refer to my next heartbreak?"
We smiled at each other. We'd known each other since college and had both been down that road many times.
"You're going to try anyway, aren't you, sweet cheeks?" Stephen asked.
"You know I am."
He squeezed my hand. "Go get 'em, tiger."
I tucked my dark brown chin-length hair behind my right ear and walked towards her.
"I don't think we've met."
She slowly swung her head, gracefully moving her long neck. Swan Lake, I thought.
"No, ve have not met" she said. Her language was formal and she spoke with a Eastern European accent. "Dr. Volkov is...vas...my husband."
"Oh, you must be Nadya. I'm so sorry for your loss."
"Thank you," she said simply.
I watched her face. She looked more thoughtful than sad, but grief is a funny thing, and everybody grieves differently.
"May I join you?"
"Please."
"Dr. Volkov - Felix - was a good friend to the museum and to me. I will miss him."
"Yes," she said. "He spoke fondly of you as vell."
"I'm sorry I wasn't able to attend the service in Basel."
"It vas wery nice. Felix had many friends."
There was something about her comment that made me wonder about their relationship. She hadn't said "we" have many friends. I'd known Felix was married, but other than to tell me she was a "very great beauty," he hadn't talked about her much. He was right about her beauty.
"It was nice of you to come to the museum party; you didn't need to do that. I hope you have had a good time."
She looked hard at me for a moment, then softened. "I like it. It is good to get out."
"Yes. How long will you be in the States?"
"A couple veeks only. I have some business here and my niece lives in New York, so I vill visit her there before I go home."
I took a breath and a chance. "May I take you out to lunch while you are D.C.?"
She looked at me for a moment.
"I would much prefer a museum visit. If you are not tired of art, that is."
I smiled. "No, I never of tire of art."
"Good. There is an exhibit at the Corcoran I vould like to see."
"Wonderful. I haven't seen the current exhibit. When would you like to go?"
"Tomorrow if that is not too soon for you."
Oh crap, I thought. I'd have to rearrange my schedule and my assistant Ginny wouldn't be happy with me. But Nadya was the widow of one of the museum's biggest donor. When billionaire donors say jump, I ask how high. The fact that this woman made my motor run was secondary, I told myself.
"I can arrange for us to have a private tour if you'd like."
"No. I prefer to have my own reaction rather than have someone else tell me vat to think about the art."
I smiled. "I can understand that. What time would work for you?"
"I have financial meetings in the morning. Vat about 3 o'clock?"
That would mean I would only miss one meeting. "That would be perfect."
She honored me with a small smile then. "Shall ve meet there?"
"It's a date," I said. I instantly regretting my choice of words, but she simply laughed a little.
"Good. I vill see you then."
We both rose from the table and I watched her walk to the coat check. Her slim hips swayed as she moved gracefully away.
"She's a hottie, isn't she?" Stephen said in my ear, almost making me jump. "Did you make a date?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact I did," I said. "Hottie isn't really the word I'd use to describe her though. She's more like a long tall ice cream soda."