section7mfu | Tea Leaves- PicFic 7/16 (Reply)

The elderly woman greeted her young visitor with a smile. She spoke excitedly in Russian, betraying her pleasure at seeing him once more.

“Welcome Illya Nickovetch. It has been too long, too long.” Illya leaned over to embrace the woman, her stooped posture making her seem even smaller. He extended his hand towards Napoleon, introducing him to Madame Petrovsky, also in Russian.

“I would like you to meet my friend, Napoleon Solo. I hoped you would not mind if brought someone to share tea with us.”
The old woman grinned at the handsome American, a suddenly girlish impulse to giggle almost overwhelming her. Silly old woman, she thought to herself. “Nyet… no, no. Please, both of you come in. And we will speak only English, yes.”

It was Napoleon’s turn to join the conversation, mindful of Madame Petrovsky’s response to him. His charm knew no limits, and age never deterred him from exuding just the right amount.

“I would be most grateful, Madame Petrovsky, for that kindness. My Russian could use a few more lessons.” Of course, it was not entirely true, but he wanted to undergird the woman’s generosity concerning language, and limits.

“So, sit, sit… right here is good.” She indicated the settee that was beneath the window. She sat down in a worn armchair that was embellished with crocheted doilies, probably the work of her hands. The room was a mish mash of old furniture and treasured bits from her past. Prized among them, oddly enough, was a new looking tea set. Illya recognized it as a newly exported Soviet product. He wondered at it being among Madame Petrovsky’s possessions.

Napoleon fingered the teapot gingerly, thinking that it might possibly be a family heirloom. “What a lovely tea set, Madame. Is it very old?”
She giggled at that, partly out of embarrassment at being addressed by such a handsome man, and partly because the tea set was new. This one was not a connoisseur of such things, it would seem. She didn’t mind.

“Nyet, it is … kak vy govorite eto, Illyushka? It is Soviet souvenir, for tourists I think.” Madame Petrovsky searched for the rights terms, hoping that Illya would help her explain to his friend.

“Yes, this is an export item, although for some of us who have nothing else from our homeland, it has some sense of what we left behind.” Illya looked at the old woman and wondered how much she might have lost in her journeys away from Russia. They had spoken only briefly of such things, concentrating instead on the present.

Napoleon picked up one of the delicate tea cups, still impressed at the simplicity of the blue on blue color, and the gold trim that highlighted the richly hued porcelain. “Well, it is a beautiful set, regardless of who made it and what their intentions were. And it suits the lady of the house, right down to her blue eyes.” Napoleon made such an impression with that little speech that he received the first cup of tea. Illya marveled at his friend’s ability to charm any woman in the room, and Madame Petrovsky was still thinking about the handsome brown-eyed American when she read the dregs of his tea later that evening.

“Hmmm… this one will not always be so full of good cheer.” She clucked her tongue at what she saw, but still went to sleep that night and dreamt of the man whose future she had read.