Chapter 9

Vika sailed into the Hotel de Rome like the warm wind which carries the scent of rose petals. In fact, the fragrance was the sophisticated Miss Dior which she had generously dabbed on her earlobes, behind her knees and on her décolletage. Miss Dior was her signature perfume. It  suited her as did the stylish black jeans and the pink quilted jacket she had carefully chosen for this day. Her first full day in Riga.

Unlike the Swedish-owned Radissons, this legendary hotel had history and class. Without hesitation Vika had pulled out her credit card and had reserved a room, sight unseen. All the boxes had been checked: a well-stocked minibar, a fluffy white bathrobe and slippers, plus a state of the art spa equipped with massage rooms and a swimming pool.

Vika had awakened early. Almost lightheaded with anticipation. She had jumped out of bed, excited as a child to start her adventure. Once she had dispensed with this Svetlana she would be free to really start exploring. First thing, she texted Egmonds and begged off for the day. She needed to rest.

Breakfast was a quick glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and black coffee. She had until noon. She breezed through the rotating door and, with a rush of pleasure, breathed in the heady air of life all around her– smart looking people probably rushing off to work, groups of tourists starting their round of sightseeing, mothers with prams.

Watching the traffic she hurried across the busy Elizabetes Street. Having consulted her travel guide, she knew she was heading in the right direction. Towards Old Riga. Both her grandmother and her mother had told her so much about the Opera House and the surrounding area. She had admired countless pictures and postcards which her grandmother had carefully collected. Would reality disappoint?

* * *

In many ways Vika had been born under a lucky star—in fact, in Elizabeth, New Jersey, just a short train commute to fabled Manhattan. On the other hand, her mother, Irena, had been born in Esslingen. Her  parents had been lucky to find themselves in the American zone of post war Germany. In 1950 the family was able to move to America. A Latvian family who had settled in 1905 sponsored them. These early expats were called “Veclatvieši.”

Once in New Jersey, Irena’s parents quickly adapted to the American way of life. They had a head start with English since classes had been given in Esslingen to prepare the refugees for life in their new homelands. Irena had been a lively, pretty girl and had met another second-generation Vēclatvietis, Edgars (Eddy) Berzins. They married and Vika was born. Eddy died when Vika was only five years old. She had been brought up by her grandmother and her mother.

Vika had texted her mother again in the morning, expressing wonder at how dark the morning was. Her mother had replied that it would get even darker. There would only be a few hours of daylight during the winter months. Vika had shivered deliciously. How spooky! How wonderful! This trip was so much different from the others Bernie had sent her to. This time she was emotionally involved and felt instinctively that here was a life altering adventure.

Keeping an eye on her watch (she couldn’t be late for Svetlana) Vika ventured further into Old Riga. She’d hit all the high spots her grandmother had spoken so glowingly about. Already she found everything around her astounding and delightful. The gloomy weather only added to the atmosphere. It all seemed mysterious and cloaked in surprises which were around each and every corner. And safe. No beggars accosted her, no one importuned her – although she had been warned to guard her handbag and to leave her diamonds in the safe.

Reluctantly she turned back. It would have been great to pop into a café for a quick brunch but Vika was too nervous about her meeting with Svetlana. Who was this woman? What was this all about? She had always wondered but knew well enough not to ask questions. She had agreed to Bernie’s requests early on in their marriage. Well, she had married for money and realized that she was expected to pay a price.

A shady business savant, Bernie’s fortune had been derived by mysterious means. One of Bernie’s talents or businesses was moving forgeries of art and antiquities. He liked that. It was diversion from his many other endeavors.  Also it was an opportunity to become friends with some of the wealthier people, get his picture taken with them. He was very good at his jobs, all involving wealth and status, though everyone saw him differently. His very close associates called him “handyman.”

* * *

Vika had spent two years at a local community college and received an associates degree in hospitality, travel, and tourism. There were still a few travel agencies left in Manhattan. And, as fate would have it, Bernie sauntered into the office which employed her. He had asked a lot of questions but hadn’t booked anything. Vika had been  disappointed. She counted on commissions and this guy was wasting her time.

When he appeared a second time, Vika groaned. Not him again.  Mediterranean-looking, sporting a perpetual tan, he was short and stocky. A hunk if you consider 5 feet 8 hunk-worthy. In heels Vika    towered over his head. He was in his forties, compared to Vika’s twenty-one.

This time the client was more down to business. He was ready to book a trip, and not just talk about it. To Vika’s amazement he asked her to join him. They married a few months later.

At first, the trips were new and exciting. Initially they travelled together but then Bernie started sending her alone on these globe-trotting trips which always involved either picking up or delivering a “package.” She realized she was being used. So many times she had wanted out but then the lavish lifestyle and security always pulled her back in. Bernie was good to her mother, having bought her a condo not far from where they lived. Still, with each trip she sensed a sea change. Something would finally happen to liberate her from this, to her, meaningless wandering.

How would she break free and would Riga be the place to do it?

God, she hoped so.