Winter Garden

“Danny Flynn. You’ve been with him for more than four years, but none of us ever even heard of him. I know about the places you’ve been and the photographs you’ve taken, even the beaches you like, but I don’t know anything about the man you love. ”

“Who said I loved him?”

“Exactly. I don’t know if you’ve ever been in love. It’s stories that matter to you. Like this thing with Mom. Of course you’re hooked. ” She made a sweeping gesture with her hand, indicating the books spread out on the table. “Just don’t expect all of this to mean anything, because it doesn’t. She won’t let it, and please, please quit trying to make me care. I can’t. Not like that, about her. Not again. Okay?”

Nina stared at her; the pity in her eyes was almost unbearable. “Okay. ”

Meredith nodded and got to her feet. “Good. Now I’m going to run to the grocery store and then I’ll come back and do some more packing. ”

“You need to keep busy,” Nina said.

Meredith ignored the knowing tone in her sister’s voice. “It doesn’t look like I’m the only one. I’ll see you in a few hours. Make sure Mom eats a good meal. ” Smiling tightly, she headed for her car.

Nina spent the rest of the day alternately taking pictures of the orchard and surfing the Internet. Unfortunately, the dial-up connection at Belye Nochi was impossibly slow, so it took forever to look things up. Not that there was much to find. What she’d learned was that Russia had a rich fairy-tale tradition that was different in many ways from the Grimms’ type of stories that were more familiar to Americans. There were literally dozens of peasant girl and prince stories, and often they ended unhappily to teach a lesson.

None of it illuminated the story Nina was being told.

Finally, as night fell outside, Meredith opened the study door and said, “Dinner’s ready. ”

Nina winced. She’d meant to quit earlier and help with dinner. But as usual, once she started researching something, time fell away from her. “Thanks,” she said, and closed down the computer. Then she went into the kitchen, where she found Mom seated at the table. There were three place settings.

Nina looked at her sister. “You’re staying for dinner again? Should we call Jeff down and invite him?”

“He’s working late,” Meredith said, taking a casserole out of the oven.

“Again?”

“You know news. The stories happen at all hours. ”

Nina got the decanter of vodka and three shot glasses and brought them to the table. She sat down next to Mom, poured.

Her hands in puffy, insulated gloves, Meredith carried the hot casserole dish to the table and set it down on a pair of trivets.

“Chanakhi,” Nina said, leaning close, breathing in the savory aroma of the lamb and vegetable casserole. It had come out of Mom’s freezer, so it would taste exquisite, even reheated. The vegetables would be perfectly tender, their flavors merged into a silken tangle of tomatoes, sweet peppers, string beans, and Walla Walla sweet onions; all of it swimming in a rich garlic-and-lemon-tinged lamb broth with big chunks of succulent meat. It was one of Nina’s favorites. “Great choice, Meredith. ”

Meredith pulled up a chair and sat down between them.

Nina handed her a straight shot of vodka.

“Again?” Meredith said, frowning. “Wasn’t last night enough?”

“It’s a new tradition. ”

“It smells like pine needles,” Meredith said, wrinkling her nose as she smelled it.

“The taste is quite different,” Mom said.

Nina laughed at that and raised her shot glass. They dutifully clinked the glasses together and drank. Then Nina reached for the serving spoon. “I’ll dish up. Meredith, why don’t you start?”

“The three things again?”

“You can do as many as you want. We’ll follow your lead. ”

Mom said nothing, just shook her head.

“Fine,” Meredith said as Nina ladled the casserole into her sister’s white china bowl. “My favorite time of day is dawn. I love sitting on my porch in the summer, and Jeff . . . thinks I run too much. ”

While Nina was figuring out her response to that, Mom surprised her by saying, “My favorite time of day is night. Belye nochi. I love cooking. And your father thinks I should learn to play the piano. ”