So I create a proposed schedule for Todd and return to the diner for the second time around eleven. The crowds of morning shoppers have thinned out, and I go to the breakfast bar instead of my regular booth.
Claudia glances at me curiously when I enter. She seems to have recovered from the trauma of talking to me earlier and I wait for her to come by.
"You can't want more pie," she says and pauses on the opposite side of the counter from me.
"Baba wants to know what kind of wedding cake you want," I joke with a smile.
She laughs and flushes. "I love your father, Petr."
"He's a good guy," I agree. "Expect him to be back, by the way."
"Not a problem." She's relaxed and her eyes shine. "Coffee?"
"Not this time." I unfold the piece of paper I printed with a schedule for Todd. I'm organized to the point of anal at times, thanks to the military, and I've planned out an entire month worth of activities, down to the times, locations and mode of transportation. I hand it to her.
"What is it?" she asks, accepting it. She reads through it. "You did this for Todd?" She looks up at me, surprised.
"Did I miss anything?"
"No." Her brow furrows in puzzlement. "I … wow. I'm not sure what to say." Her focus returns to the paper, and she studies the entries stretching from the end of November through the New Year. "This is amazing."
"Just say it works for you and Todd, and I'll make it happen."
"This is too much, Petr. I can't … I won't let us take up the time you should be spending helping everyone else in town," she says without taking her eyes off the paper.
"It's my pleasure, Claudia."
She meets my gaze. I can almost see her internal struggle. It doesn't take a genius to guess she's not used to entrusting her brother's welfare or interests to anyone else. The two of them are almost inseparable, and their affection for one another is irrefutable.
I also know the decision has to be hers. Pressuring her will drive her away.
"You're sure?" she asks again after a brief hesitation.
"Positive," I reply. "I would've called to tell you but I don't have your number. Though, in truth, my father might have it by now. He was KGB. Don't let him weird you out. Old habits die hard."
A smile pulls up one side of her full lips. "Okay, Petr." She takes a deep breath, and I sense again this is difficult for her.
"You, ah, ever have a day off?" I ask without thinking.