Lara’s eyes move to each of us as we’re introduced, briefly widening when I’m introduced by my title. She never meets my gaze. Does my profession bother you, beautiful? They pause on a fuming Aleister, waiting for further explanation, which isn’t forthcoming.
I know the baron despises him. They’re still wrangling about a past business deal gone sour, but I’ve never dug deeper into that. I monitor these men once a year when I make the trip from the Yukon Territory to Juneau for my annual police association’s conference. Aleister is returning from making purchases for his retail store, and Esterhaus is inspecting his holdings along the Alaskan coastline.
It’s always the same… until now.
“How do you do,” she says with a slight nod. “I’m Lia and this is my… sister. Molly.”
It’s a lie.
Perhaps that’s too harsh.
Perhaps “Lia” has a sister named Molly.
Lara does not.
The younger girl’s eyes stay on her plate, and her fingers return to her necklace.
“That’s an interesting chain,” the baron says to her. “It’s early Romanov. Are you traveling from Russia?”
“How did you know that?” Lara’s eyes fly to his, and she seems almost frightened. Interesting.
“I collect antiquities,” Esterhaus explains. “It’s one of my hobbies. Almost all of the Romanov collection was melted down following the revolution. Is it an imitation?”
“I don’t know,” Molly says without looking up. “It was a gift.”
“I’d love to examine it further if possible. You might stop by my stateroom—”
Just then the doors open and another traveler joins us. He captures all of our attention, an African-American gentleman dressed in a dark plum coat with thin grey pinstripes. He doesn’t speak to anyone, and goes to a table in the farthest corner of the room, turning his back on us.
I know Esterhaus well enough to know he won’t let this behavior pass. He presides over the dining car like a lord in his castle, but before he can launch his investigation, Ustinov returns with several additional waiters carrying our dinner.
The young porter directs them on who gets which items before going to the new guest. They speak quietly, and he exits behind the bar, I assume to get another serving.
For a little while we don’t speak. The Duck l’Orange is deliciously rich with a touch of sweetness. The dark-brown meat melts like butter in my mouth, and the corn and avocado provide the perfect accompaniment, crisp and fresh.
The bartender uncorks a bottle of Chardonnay and serves the baron and myself. The diners having the roast duck are given a light pinot. I notice Molly doesn’t eat her meat, sticking instead to the risotto and mushroom side. She also isn’t served wine.
Aleister is subdued, but I see him glancing at Lara. The women don’t speak during the meal. Lara takes several bites of everything on her plate, but she finishes none of it. She does, however, have a second glass of wine.
Our new guest in the back places a tablet on the table and appears to read while having his own serving of the roast duck and red wine.
When Ustinov and his crew return to collect our plates, the baron stands and joins me at the bar, taking out a fat cigar and clipping the end. He holds the leather pouch toward me, but I wave him away.
“Every year I offer, and every year you decline,” he chuckles.
“Never developed a taste for them.” I lean back as the bartender pours the old man a scotch.
“You prefer a pipe,” Esterhaus says, and I shake my head.
“No tobacco for me. Not worth the risk.”
“Life is all about risk,” the baron says.
“Life is about avoiding risk,” Aleister argues. “Detecting it early and doing everything you can to get out of its way.”
Ustinov returns for dessert orders. The other men and I decline. Lara holds up a hand in a no gesture, but indicates she’d like another glass of wine. Molly is the only one who does a little nod.
“I’d like the tiramisu,” she says.
“An excellent choice!” Ustinov exclaims, pleased someone is taking his offer. “The lady fingers are imported from Vienna, the espresso is made fresh, and the mascarpone is light as air.”
He oversells every item on the menu, but I don’t comment. Aleister rises from his seat and gestures to Lara. “Would you join us at the bar?”
She shakes her head, causing her silky brown hair to shimmer in the light. It smells like springtime if I remember correctly, or perhaps Lia prefers another scent. “The smoke gets in my eyes.”
“I’m so sorry,” the baron moves his cigar further toward the end of the bar away from her table.
The bartender flips a switch hidden under the counter and a quiet whirring joins the background noise. “That should help,” he says.
I see Robert preparing to address our strange companion, when the man rises and takes his tablet. He places a few dollars on the table and abruptly leaves the dining car, rendering us all momentarily silent in his wake.
I’ve decided it’s time for coffee when Lara speaks. “You’re from New Orleans, Baron?”
Her pointed question surprises me. Perhaps she does know him after all… But how?
Esterhaus straightens, seeming uncomfortable. “Why no. Calgary.”
“But you spent time there,” she insists.
“Many years ago.” He clears his throat. “Many, many years ago. How do you know about that?”
“I’m from New Orleans,” she says. “I thought I recognized your face. It just came to me.”
The older man shifts on his stool, and I’m intrigued by this turn of events. I’ve never seen Esterhaus put on guard.
My skin prickles. Perhaps this is the trip I’ve been waiting for. I only need her.
I’ve always needed her.
He squints over his small glasses at Lara. “How would you recognize my face? Have we met?”
“When I was in the city, I worked at a theater. It operated a private club, which I believe you had an interest in.”
The older man’s expression goes from startled to stony in the flicker of an eyelash, and I shift forward in my seat. What she’s saying is true, and I’ve often wondered how he doesn’t recognize me from that… interest. I suppose he was drunk or stoned each time he visited the city. I wonder if tonight will be the night I place this gentleman under arrest…
“I was briefly involved in a nightclub establishment,” he grumbles crossly. “I divested myself after a very short time.”
“Is that so?” Lara’s voice drips with innocence. “I can’t understand why. It was such a vibrant and active place when I lived there.”
“I was too far away to have an active hand in the business decisions. I didn’t have a voice in what went on. I wasn’t aware—”
His tone makes me think of a large snow crab backing up from a predator, front claws snapping. Lara is on her feet, sweeping toward him at once.
“I’m so sorry.” Her voice is soft and endearing. “You must think I’m terribly rude to pry into your affairs. I simply love my hometown so much. So many years have passed since I was there. I enjoy finding others who can remember it with me.”