Dinner was a quiet affair, and afterward, although the television was on, I wasn’t inclined to think any of us paid it any heed.
Afterward, Gregor paced and growled under his breath. I attempted to balance my checkbook but wound up turning it into a jumbled mess. Alyona decided baking bread would be a good idea, so she took Quinton into the kitchen with her and had him knead the dough into submission.
* * * *
The next morning, the four of us went to church. We returned home to find the light on the answering machine blinking.
The speaker was male, and the message was in Russian. “He’s safe and on his way home. If you wish to thank the person responsible, give her a call at eleven A.M. your time.”
Of course I wished to thank her. A glance at my watch showed I had about ten minutes.
Quinton translated the first part of the message, and Gregor and Alyona hugged each other, hugged him, hugged me.