The Tsarina's Legacy (41 page)

“Let me know how it goes,” she told him.

“I will.” He glanced back at one of the displays with the flight information. “You two go now. Safe travels, Grand Duchess.”

She smiled and stepped back so Michael could shake his hand. As they grabbed their luggage and moved toward the security gates, she turned around. Dmitry was still smiling, but the corners of his lips were twitching and his gaze had darkened.

*   *   *

The bar seemed more of a quiet hangout for locals than a place for Moscow's elite to see and be seen. Of course, they were far from the city's center and had arrived in the early evening. The place smelled of cheap beer dried on thin wood. Only a few lone drinkers slumped over the counter, looking over their shoulders to take disinterested stock of Veronica and Michael. The bartender kept busy cleaning a lipstick smudge from a wineglass.

Veronica spotted a television propped behind glittering stacks of bottles and figured it would do as well as any. She found a stool while Michael tapped the bartender's back. At first he didn't look thrilled at the interruption. And then he saw Michael's face.

“You look like you had a rough day,” he told Michael gruffly, staring at the damaged eye. He found a remote control under the cash register and handed it over.

The first shot was the foyer of the Hermitage Theater: an empty podium with the Russian flag draped over it flanked by two decorative pine trees. Veronica began to play with one of the napkins the bartender had placed in front of her. She was still thinking of the look on Dmitry's face when they left him at the airport. What happened next could help determine his future.

Camera lights began to flash on-screen.

“There he is,” Veronica said, pointing to the television.

Slowly, Laurent approached the same podium Veronica had stood behind two days earlier, handsome and dignified in his dapper three-piece suit and carrying his cane, the Romanov ribbon affixed to his lapel.

A Cyrillic caption read: “Breaking News: True Romanov Heir Laurent Marchand emerges from seclusion.”

Veronica watched, transfixed, as the camera zoomed in on his face. In the closer shots, his features seemed more vulnerable, his physical frailty more apparent, and for a moment Veronica thought he might need a chair. Laurent cleared his throat and began to address the crowd in elegant French, his native tongue, as a Russian woman translated for him:

“I am here today because my daughter, Veronica Herrera, for personal reasons, has relinquished her own claim to the Romanov throne. I was disappointed to hear this. However, in light of this news, it only makes sense for me to take her place. My name is Laurent Marchand. My mother, Grand Duchess Charlotte, was the secret fifth daughter of Tsar Nicholas II.”

Laurent hesitated and shuffled the note cards in front of him. He reached into the front pocket of his jacket and retrieved a pair of reading glasses. It took him a minute to adjust them. In that moment, as the camera lingered, the soft features of Nicholas and Alexandra became increasingly apparent in his expression. Laurent's face gave some clues as to how they might have appeared if they had lived to reach old age themselves.

“First and foremost, I wish to make it clear that I will pursue the same political agenda as my daughter. I understand Reb Volkov will be sent to prison in Siberia tomorrow. This is unacceptable. This type of oppression has no place in our new Russia.”

Again, Laurent paused. Slowly, he began to unbutton his blazer. Flashbulbs went off all around him. Laurent looked so delicate it made Veronica's heart ache. She wished she could have been there to take his hand and help him.

But he managed well enough. He looked up at the camera, pale but with a vibrant grin playing on his thin lips. Underneath his jacket, he wore Reb's T-shirt. Free the Wolf.

“If Reb Volkov is not released by this evening, the boycott of Russian vodka will commence, as my daughter alluded to in her press conference. The Romanov family does not support the current direction of the Russian government on social issues. The Romanov family does not believe the Orthodox Church or any other religious institution should condone the persecution of any group as the Russian government supports persecution of those in the LGBT community. This is the modern House of Romanov. And this is what we believe. I will now take questions.”

As Laurent removed his reading glasses, reporters shouted question after question, so many Veronica couldn't make sense of them. Veronica half-expected Irina to materialize and insist that Laurent was just a crazy old man. But when the camera panned the room, Irina was nowhere to be found.

Michael put his hand on Veronica's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “Beautiful,” he said. “No one can question Laurent's right to speak for the Romanov family.”

“I hope it works.”

“I think it will. But I wonder what will happen to that boy Sasha?”

“I'm sure he'll be fine.”
Handsome men usually are
, she thought. “Anya texted me. Apparently, once Irina found out about Laurent, she threw a fit and threatened to leave Russia for good.” Veronica doubted anyone thought that was a bad thing, even her own stepson. No matter what Irina had offered him, Sasha understood it was not worth it.

On-screen, Laurent pointed to a reporter, smooth as a White House press secretary. He should have done this years ago. She smiled at him. Maybe he couldn't actually return the smile, but she thought he could sense it somehow. She had never in her life felt proud of her father. She'd never even had a father. The sensation was strange, and the resentment still lingered, but she hoped it might fade over time.

“He is the true tsar,” Veronica said.

“Laurent just picked up where you left off.”

“I'm still proud of him,” she said.

“What are you going to do when you return to California?” Michael asked.

Veronica shredded the napkin in her hands. “Beg for my old job back?”

He dipped his head. “Cubicle wasteland?”

“That's the one.”

Michael took her hand and turned it over in his, pressing his lips softly against her index finger. Veronica touched his chin. The usual doubts still raced through her head. He would hurt her, or worse yet, she would hurt him. But when he bent closer to her, looking so vulnerable, the doubt evaporated. She brushed her lips on his, parting them gently, and she was lost, drowning, never wanting to leave, wondering why she had ever left, why she had ever abandoned this when it felt so right. This was where she belonged.

At least for a moment. And then she grew aware of the bartender's disapproving gaze. Reluctantly, she pulled back, heart still racing.

“I think you should move back to Los Angeles,” he told her as she caught her breath. “And not just for me…”

He ran his hand back through his hair and scratched his head. She laughed softly. “It's okay,” she told him. “Go on. I like what you're saying so far.”

“You belong there,” he continued, smiling shyly. “The fact that I'm nearby works out well. At least for me.” He scratched his head again. “I mean, I hope you feel the same way.”

Veronica nodded, also feeling shy. “I agree.”

“Losing tenure isn't the end of the world. Make the life you want.”

“I can still write. I always wanted to finish my biography of Alexandra … and maybe it would be fun to do more research on Prince Potemkin.”

“You deserve a meaningful life, Grand Duchess,” Michael said. “Don't settle for anything less.”

*   *   *

The groundbreaking ceremony took place near one of the outer ring boulevards, far from the Kremlin towers and the luxury apartments of the new oligarchs, in a clearing once repurposed for a frumpy Soviet-era bureaucratic building. It was being repurposed once more … and none too soon as far as Veronica was concerned. The world could certainly live with one less dull office complex.

They were far enough from the center of Moscow to be away from the worst of the pollution, and the sun was shining despite the bitter cold. Veronica drew in the woodland scent of the park, feeling revived. She thought the site looked pretty, an open square dusted with white snow. The square was surrounded on all sides by official buildings with classical Greek pillars, interspersed with neat rows of renovated apartment blocks. Grigory Potemkin would have been pleased.

When she spotted them, Anya squealed and ran past the men gathered for the ceremony. She hugged Veronica and then nodded happily at Michael. “Welcome. Welcome to Moscow. The true heart of Russia.” She wore a floral
hijab
and a new pair of glasses with rosy frames that matched her lipstick. She steered them to a cleric in a white hat and the businessmen Veronica had seen in the hotel back in St. Petersburg when Michael was first released. They had agreed to work with the Islamic community to help secure support for Laurent Marchand's leadership of the House of Romanov. Veronica hoped it was a step in the direction of unity that encompassed different faiths and different ways of life.

The groundbreaking ceremony was brief and to the point. The imam in attendance referred to Veronica as honorary tsarina. She liked the sound of that, even if it was no longer accurate. He then mentioned Veronica and Laurent's ties to the Romanov family. He did not specifically mention Laurent's speech, or his support for Reb Volkov, but he did refer to Laurent and Veronica as “friends of the community.”

As the imam spoke, Veronica thought she saw a familiar face hovering in the back of the crowd. His image was fuzzy, as though somehow he was there and yet he was not.

She closed her eyes. Counted to three in her languages. Opened her eyes again.

He remained, smiling calmly in her direction. She knew him. She recognized his face immediately, along with the eighteenth-century attire and the medallion with Catherine's portrait pinned to his jacket. The auburn hair. The slight tilt to his head, so she couldn't see his bad eye. He may have been a figment of her imagination, but at that moment she didn't care. She was glad he had made it and she returned his smile. Prince Grigory Potemkin knew his mosque would be built at last. He nodded at her and then slowly faded from view.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

When considering historical subjects for a companion novel to
The Secret Daughter of the Tsar
, I knew I wanted to visit the time of Catherine the Great. Given what Veronica learns about her Romanov identity, I thought she would feel motivated by Catherine's reign and her accomplishments. A chat with a good friend and fellow history buff led me to Prince Grigory Potemkin. Although Potemkin's dogged pursuit of the mosque is my invention, it was inspired by the portrait of the prince drawn by Simon Sebag Montefiore in
Prince of Princes: The Life of Potemkin
. Potemkin strikes me as a man of the Enlightenment: cosmopolitan and fascinated by the multicultural landscape of his homeland. According to Montefiore's work, the construction of a mosque in Moscow was at least a small part of Potemkin's negotiations with the Turks in 1789–90. The friction between Potemkin and Catherine's final favorite, Platon Zubov, though fictionalized, is based on historical records.

For the story set in the present, I wanted my fictional universe to deal indirectly with the 2012 arrest and imprisonment of members of the punk group Pussy Riot. I wanted to deal in a more direct manner with the escalating homophobia in contemporary Russia, particularly the passage of the so-called gay propaganda law by the Duma in 2013. It is my hope that in the coming years, the situation for the LGBT community in Russia will improve.

I wish to extend heartfelt thanks to my agent, Erin Harris of Folio Literary Management, and my editor, Vicki Lame of St. Martin's Press. I would be lost without the moral support and thoughtful commentary of friends and fellow writers Melissa Jackson and Lou Ann Barnett, as well as my family, who worked so hard to spread the word about my first book. Finally, thank you to Barbara Hom-Escoto for introducing me to Prince Potemkin.

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

Anthony, Katherine (translator).
Memoirs of Catherine the Great
. New York City: Alfred A. Knopf, 1927.

De Madariaga, Isabel.
Catherine the Great: A Short History
. New York: Yale University Press, 1990.

Goscilo, Helen, and Vlad Strutkov (editors).
Celebrity and Glamour in Contemporary Russia: Shocking Chic
. New York: Routledge Taylor & Francis Group, 2011.

Massie, Robert.
Catherine the Great: Portrait of a Woman
. New York: Random House, 2011.

Montefiore, Simon Sebag.
Prince of Princes: The Life of Potemkin
. London: Phoenix Press, 2001.

Polovtsoff, Alexander.
The Favorites of Catherine the Great
. London: Herbert Jenkins Limited, 1940.

Rounding, Virginia.
Catherine the Great: Love, Sex, and Power
. London: Hutchinson, 2006.

Sergeant, Phillip.
Courtships of Catherine the Great
. New York: Brentano's (year unknown).

Soloveytchik, George.
Potemkin: Soldier, Statesman, Lover and Constant of Catherine of Russia
. New York: W. W. Norton and Co. Inc., 1947.