Chapter 26: EAST MEETS WEST
Still Tuesday… Wine Country Inn & Cottages, Deer Park…
Pulling the Forester up to the farthermost cottage in the complex, Katie deliberately prolonged the process of shutting down the vehicle. These newer models had such complicated arrays of dials, knobs, displays and levers one almost needed an engineering degree to sort them out. Illya hadn't made a move to undo his seat belt. Instead, he continued sitting ramrod straight, hands on thighs, staring stonily through the windshield. Katie climbed out, gently closing her door, and walked around to the other side to open the passenger door.
"Too late for cold feet, Tato. Come on."
When there was no response to her rap on the door, Katie swiped the duplicate key card. Illya stopped abruptly just inside the threshold. From their position at the entranceway, they had a straight view across the living room through the open sliding doors to the deck, where a figure stood with his back to them. Katie wasn't sure he'd heard them come in, but as she nudged her father forward toward the lounge, Donald turned and walked through the doors toward them. The advances came to a halt just out of handshake reach, the two men regarding each other in stilled amazement.
"Illya, meet Donald—Donald, meet Illya," Katie said, noting with approval the care Donald had taken in dressing as casually as he could manage in order to match the description given… rumpled solid blue shirt, khaki pants and deck shoes. No pleated suit pants, starched white shirt, suspenders or bow tie in evidence. Standing back, she waited to see who would make the first overture… betting on Donald.
As expected, Donald breached the awkward gap with a shy smile. "I can't quite decide if this is the most shocking event of my entire life… or the most thrilling surprise."
"I must admit to a similar sensation," Illya said stiffly, surprising the heck out of his daughter by taking the first step forward and extending both hands to his brother. She had to suppress a bubble of laughter as they stood there, holding hands and gazing into each other's eyes like a pair of elderly queens on a first date.
"Why don't you two go sit on the deck and get acquainted while I fix drinks?"
"Capital idea!" Donald beamed, tugging his gobsmacked brother toward the sliding doors.
Out of the corner of her eye, Katie watched them as she arranged two heavy tumblers on a tray and poured generous measures of vodka and scotch, on second thought adding the bottles. They'd pulled together two of the padded patio chairs so they faced each other practically knee-to-knee.
"Won't you join us, Katie?" Donald offered politely as she came out to place the tray on the nearby patio table. "After all… if it weren't for your perseverance…"
"No. Thank you. I'm going to read for a while. But if either of you has a question, just holler."
Katie closed the door behind her as she went in and made herself a tall screwdriver. Selecting a recliner with a view of the deck, she could see both men in profile though not overhear their conversation. She'd worried their divergent personalities would prove an insurmountable barrier to establishing any sort of relationship—Illya being intrinsically reticent and Donald inclined to be loquacious—but that didn't seem to be the case so far. Illya appeared to be holding his own, conversation-wise. So far, so good.
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Katie reminisces…
Katie recalled with exceptional clarity a discussion that had ensued when she'd queried her stepmother as to why her father was the way he was—something that had never entered her head as a child or adolescent. It was only as a young adult that an awareness had arisen of the differences between the secretive man who was her father and the open book she'd married—both Russians.
Elise had been remarkably forthcoming on the subject. Back in his UNCLE days, Illya had acquired the sobriquet 'Ice Prince' as he never spoke unless first spoken to… and even then had confined his terse replies to the fewest possible words and syllables. He'd also remained coolly resistant to feminine blandishments during his entire tenure, in stark counterpoint to his former partner—an inveterate bed-hopper and honey-tongued horndog of the first order. Katie was amused that her refined stepmother knew such a word.
"How do you know what Tato was like, Mama?" Katie asked. "You didn't even meet him until after he'd left UNCLE."
"Ah… but I knew someone who worked with him—a Miss Dancer. She knew your father intimately."
"Intimately?" Katie squeaked. "As in…?"
"Good heavens, no! Not that intimately… she was one of our models at Maison de Ferrara before being recruited by UNCLE. As you know, I was somewhat of a mother figure to those young girls back then. They confided all sorts of secrets to me that perhaps they shouldn't have… talking out of school, as it were. April Dancer was no exception. After she became an UNCLE agent, she continued as a client and we remained close. I always personally handled her fittings.
"At any rate, she told me of her infatuation with one of her fellow operatives. She wasn't the only one attracted to him, but—to everyone's great regret—he fended off all advances and his conduct remained beyond reproach. As he wore a ring that could have been a wedding band, it was rumored he might actually be married although field operatives weren't supposed to be."
"But she never said his name?" Katie interjected.
"No, never. That would have violated protocol. Shortly afterwards, Miss Dancer was posted out of the country and a year later Madam Ferrara retired and sold out. We were assured we were all keeping our jobs and that our new title was to be House of Vanya… and then we were introduced to our new boss."
"That must have been a surprise."
"To say the least! April had shown me a photo she had copied from his personnel file, so I recognized him right off. But I never let on until much, much later… and by then I had a massive secret crush on him, as did we all. Eventually we learned he was a single father when he started bringing you around. For the longest time I believed he must be a closet homosexual as he never once yielded to any of the models no matter how flagrantly they flung themselves at him. And then I realized that a truly gay man surrounded by gorgeous women would have been much more engaging and playful. They do make the most entertaining friends, you know. I'm happy to say I was proven wrong.
"When Napoleon Solo came to Vanya to persuade your father to join him in that one last mission, he corroborated April Dancer's descriptions of both your father and himself. He flirted shamelessly with all of us, waxing positively eloquent about UNCLE's hordes of beautiful female employees and the women they'd encountered in their work. He didn't know Illya and I were married. Somehow, I don't think that would have proved a deterrent."
Katie vividly remembered the occasion…
For reasons not fully understood by eight-year-old Ekaterina, her father and new stepmother had chosen to be united in a private civil ceremony. They further elected to keep their status secret from the world at large, which lasted until Elise fell pregnant. Ten years later, eighteen-year-old Katya (before she became 'Katie') happened to be in the salon when her father brought in his 'old friend,' Napoleon Solo.
Katya often stopped by after school to schmooze with her model buddies and scope out any interesting designs she might want to try. Though tall and pretty enough, the girl was definitely not model material. Full-figured Ekaterina favored her mother in lacking the elegance and poise that was de rigueur in the catwalk world. Plus, she could easily pass for much older than her chronological age, as evidenced by the fake driver's license that afforded access to establishments forbidding underage patronage.
Illya always maintained strict separation between home and work. Although Napoleon and their superior, Alexander Waverly, had known about Illya's child since he'd fetched her back from Russia, they'd never actually seen her… or even a photo of her. Thus, Napoleon had no suspicion, when introduced to the brown-eyed brunette, that she was Illya's daughter. It was all she could do to keep a straight face when propositioned… not entirely in jest. She and Elise had a good laugh about that later on at home though Illya failed to see the humor in a fifty-plus man hitting on his teenage daughter. Loyal to a fault, the staff at House of Vanya knew that any discussion of Illya's family was not allowed in the presence of 'outsiders.' Illya's 'old friend' departed in ignorance of the gaffe he'd committed. Illya later admitted to Elise and Katie that he'd lied to Napoleon about his domestic circumstances—the only reason given was that it was for their protection.
Katie emerged from memoryland with a start as a burst of laughter penetrated the glass panels. She couldn't recall ever hearing her staid father laughing that boisterously. Whatever doubts remained about having brought these two together vanished in a wave of satisfaction that she'd done the right thing… followed by a surge of consternation as to what the next move would be.
What time is it getting to be, anyway? she thought as her phone rang.
It was Dennis, rather testily wanting to ascertain whether or not his wife and father-in-law were planning to return home in the near future. Although he diplomatically refrained from demanding where they'd been or their present location, his annoyance bled through. The womenfolk had returned from their excursion earlier than expected, the menfolk were set to fire up the grill… and everything was on hold until the patriarch of the clan deigned to put in an appearance.