Chapter 35

Christmas could be hell on wheels for those living alone—especially in the dark cold of a Riga winter. Vika shivered. Maybe she’d go to Italy for Christmas. Hang out with little no-Rolex Frankie. She laughed out loud at the thought, but it was a laugh without any merriment. When was it that she had admired his thick black hair and nice profile? It felt like a lifetime ago. Maybe it was.

If she were religious she’d pray for a Christmas miracle. As it was, she fervently hoped that Frankie would soon bring her good news of her mother.

In the meantime life had to go on. Chores had to be done. Garbage needed to be taken out. The freezing cold courtyard of her apartment building was deserted. It was the darkest dark Vika had ever experienced. And it was deadly quiet. Scary. She did have a gun, but it was hidden away. Maybe she should have it on her.

Tentatively she felt her way forward, hardly making out the rubbish barrels. Was there something behind them? Someone? Vika caught her breath.

Out of the black dawn, appeared a tiny skeleton. A shadow, really. Huge glowing yellow eyes. Enormous white whiskers dwarfing a little black face.

Dropping the garbage bags destined for the barrels, Vika snatched up the tiny bundle of bones and rushed back inside. Food! What food did she have for a starving kitten?

She had nothing. But she did have neighbors. Holding the kitten tight, Vika knocked on the nearest door.  She did know some Latvian. Well, at least one word. One important word.

“Lūdzu…” She held up the kitten then pointed to her mouth, smacking her lips, miming eating sounds. “Lūdzu! Ludzu, some milk,” she tried again. The word spun dizzily in her mind. Her only word. Would it work?

From the little roly-poly woman who answered the door came a  blur of words Vika couldn’t understand. Vika stood still, put on a pleading almost-smile and tried her best lūdzu one more time.

The plump little woman turned away and bellowed, “Katia!”

A skinny young woman came running to the door. She smiled. “English. I speak English!”

Vika expelled the breath she’d been holding. Not knowing a word of Russian, Vika gushed in English “Oh Thank you. Thank you. You have food for the kitten?”

As she looked past the two women she saw what might have been a half dozen or more cats all eating from one dish or another.

“My grandmother says she already has too many cats and she can’t take another one. The animal shelter also says they have too many. We can’t afford to take care of so many. My grandmother doesn’t make much money taking care of this building and courtyard.”

Vika rallied. “No, no. I just need some milk. I’m keeping the cat.”

Katia’s face glowed. “Oh good! You’re English. Where do you live? I have so much homework. Even at Christmas. You help me and we’ll give you milk.”

Vika shot her a sharp look. “You give me the milk right now, miss!”

Vika was not used to this kind of bargaining. She drew herself up to her full height, presenting the brand of queenliness which had always got her what she wanted. Her stance had Katia hightailing it to the fridge and running back with a small carton.

“Yes, yes, lady.”

“Thank you. Paldies. And whatever it is that you say in Russian.”

Katia’s face brightened. “I can teach you Russian,” she said hopefully.

“No, thanks,” Vika called over her shoulder as she started to climb the stairs to her own apartment. She was not a person who believed in compromise.

* * *

The day seemed less cold, less lonely. Vika enjoyed the sight of her tiny kitten lapping at the milk for all it was worth. She had to name it. Was it a boy or a girl? Vika had never had a pet before. Irena didn’t like animals indoors. She might have tolerated a cat but never a dog. Bernie had no use for animals so this was a brand new experience.

The thought crossed her mind to bring it to Svetlana who probably knew all about cats. Vika quickly banished that thought but had another idea. She’d host a Christmas Eve luncheon at Sam’s. She knew it was last-minute and that everyone was probably busy but she’d try.

It turned out to be her lucky day. All her guest had accepted the invitation and she was able to reserve a good table.

Being sober might be a handicap, Vika said to herself, determined to be the first to arrive. Sam’s boasted a full wine list and the cocktails were interesting.

* * *

Vika was surprised to see that Sam’s was packed and it wasn’t yet noon. Something else was going on. She recognized Arsy who was smoking and had swapped his waiter’s outfit for a pair of jeans and a leather jacket.  He waved Vika over.

“Some of my paintings,” he announced, trying to sound casual. But Vika could tell he was proud and excited. He was having a one man exhibition. Even though Juris Lapins had ordered him to track down the fugitive Svetlana, she had so transformed herself that he merely glanced at the pretty girl who was following Vika.

The paintings were small, glittering like open jewelry boxes. Lots of metallic paint had created icon-like images. Looking closer Vika saw that each painting was an elaborate surrealistic tarot card. She had never been what’s called a deep thinker but she saw in each painting a hidden meaning, a juxtaposition of the esoteric and the mundane. She wouldn’t have used any of these words. She didn’t even know what she felt. But she was fascinated.

While she stood staring at the paintings her guests arrived. Vika’s heart soared with pleasure. I know all these people. They’re friends of mine. How could she ever feel lonely again?

She ushered Aunt Velga first to the head of the table. Then came Eggy and Simone and Svetlana.

The table had been beautifully set. There were fresh flowers on a white tablecloth, candles and fancy cloth napkins. Champagne was chilling in an ice bucket nearby.

“What a surprise! Arsy’s exhibition! And no one told me!” she exclaimed happily. She filled a glass and took it over to Arsy who was in conversation with an elderly lady. He looked drop-dead gorgeous and the lady was taking it all in.

“I’m reserving these two, please,” Vika stated firmly before returning to her table.

Simone glanced over at Arsy, blushed a little, then continued telling Vika about a special someone in her English class. Svetlana as well wanted Vika’s opinion about a personal matter but all Vika had on her mind was her kitten. What to feed it? How to care for it? Eggy rolled his eyes, Aunt Velga shut hers tightly and tapped her forehead. Vika had all the makings of a crazy cat lady. Would she stop at one? Then who would take care of the cat (or cats) once she left? There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Vika wasn’t staying in Latvia.

Amidst all the merriment, Vika’s cell pinged. A text from Frankie. She couldn’t breathe. Oh God please please please…  

The next moment her eyes filled with tears. Happy tears. Vinny had news that her mother was alive and well. He would be sending Vika instructions how to get in touch with her.

Straight out of a scene from a soppy Christmas movie, Vika exclaimed, “What a wonderful Christmas present!”

Gone were all thoughts of peril and hiding from the mob. Still, one early New Year’s resolution Vika had made was to always carry her gun. She was a good shot.

After the meal, Eggy took it upon himself to walk Vika back to her apartment. It was Christmas Eve, a time Latvians held in the highest esteem. Vika’s heart beat with gladness as she and Eggy dropped into the ornate little church on Lāčpleša Street to praise the Lord. Someone had to get credit for her current good fortune.