The girls went upstairs to a sparsely decorated bedroom. There were two iron twin beds and a plain dresser between them. Lidka dropped her bags on one bed and indicated that Kate could have the other. So, they would be sharing a room. All the better for Lidka to keep an eye on her, Kate was sure.
Lidka brushed back the lace curtain on the window and looked down. “Does your mama hang lace on all her windows?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“We Poles like our lace,” she said, making a face and turning from the window. “During the war, as soon as a house was deserted, neighbors would come to take what they wanted. Then the Soviets, then the Germans, and then the Soviets again. As you can imagine, anything of value was stolen, even lightbulbs, and in some cases the floorboards. Though those were likely burned for fuel in the cold winter.”
“That’s terrible,” Kate said.
Lidka laughed. “That is war. We were all trying to survive. If the invaders were going to take it anyway, why not should the people who live here take it first? People were borrowing items until they had to give them up.”
Kate thought of Floyd. “But now the artwork, at least, is being sent home.”
“From Western powers, yes. Not from East. Art recovered by Soviets is going to their museums and private collections. It is their retribution.”
“Aren’t they trying to find the owners?”
“Why should they? Art belongs to the people. In the war, it was people who suffered greatly. This is a small consolation for them. To make them feel like they got something out of such a bitter war.”
“They might have taken Malwinka’s favorite painting to a museum in Russia.” Kate tried to prod her, to test if she really thought the art shouldn’t go back to the owners.
“They might.” Her face was stoic.
Kate held up the shoe. “Had you ever seen this before?”
Lidka looked like she was afraid to touch it. “No. It was one of those secrets I was not told.”
“How are you related to Malwinka?”
“I am closer to Ludmilla by blood than I am Malwinka. Malwinka is another distant cousin. She was friendly with my mother, so felt some obligation to me during the war. She tried to get me to leave Poland sooner, to find farm work so I would have food.”
“So, she is a good woman?” The Burgosov in jail implied otherwise.
Lidka stood and pushed back the lace curtains on the window. “She is like any other woman. She does what she must to survive. Good or bad depends on circumstances.”
“And these circumstances?” Kate asked.
Lidka shrugged. “You will find out and then you can tell me.”
An unseen weight pressed in on Kate, and she found it hard to breathe. She moved toward the window. The room was too small, and she was tired of Lidka. She longed to return to the open gardens at the villa and moonlit rendezvous with Johnny.
“Does this window open?” she asked. She pushed up and the window jerked open. It was sticky, like paint had gotten into the sliders. The sweet honey-lime scent of the waning linden blossoms wafted in. She leaned forward, taking in big gulps, and reminded herself that as long as she controlled the dress, she had the upper hand. She was sure Malwinka wouldn’t harm her because she was the Keeper. She might bluster and threaten, but ultimately, not harm.
Lidka lowered the window. “Not so far, you don’t want to fall out.” She stepped back. “You are closer to Malwinka’s lineage,” Lidka continued. “Your dziadek was related somehow. You would have to ask someone to draw family tree.”
Kate had only thought a little about the implications of her being a Burgosov. To think she was related to Malwinka—it was an idea she was still getting used to. But her grandparents had left Poland. Neither one of them wanted anything to do with their families, the Burgosovs or the Keeper line.
“Can you do anything with the shoe?” Lidka asked. “Is there something you say or something you do to it? I can understand if you did not want to make it work in front of Malwinka, but you can go ahead now while no one is watching.”
Kate snorted. “You’re watching. But really, it’s not an act. I don’t know what to do. Aunt Elsie had never seen the shoes herself, and if there was a magic word or something, she never told me. I think I’ll need to take it back to Italy. We could start at that building where the boy found the dog tags. Will she let me?”
Lidka ignored her suggestion about Italy. “What about Fyodora? She spoke with you before we left. How did she instruct?”
“She said nothing about how to use the shoes, only that she wanted me to be nice to you.”
Lidka frowned, and Kate couldn’t decide what that frown meant. Was she disappointed that they knew nothing, or that Princess Kolodenko was focused on Lidka?
“Sleep with the shoe under your pillow and see if you dream about place where papa is.”
“Where is the bathroom?” Kate asked. She needed a moment alone to process.
“Down hall, on left.”
“Thanks.” Kate started in that direction, still holding the shoe, but remembered her bags left unattended. She came back to the room and Lidka smiled at her. She was standing in the middle of the room, closer to Kate’s bed. “Excuse me,” Kate said, slipping past and grabbing her bags.
After closing the bathroom door, she locked it. At last, she was alone with the shoe.
She examined every inch of it, trying to come to terms with the fact that this was the famous glass slipper. The high-heeled shoe appeared delicate, yet with all those diamonds nestled close together, it felt solid. The diamonds dazzled as if they had their own energy source and didn’t need to reflect any light to make them shine so beautifully. No wonder people described Cinderella as stepping on stars as she danced.
She tried it on again, cramming her foot in as far as it would go. The shoe was hard and unrelenting. Well, according to legend, it would only fit the original Cinderella.
She sat down on the edge of the tub to think and the rug slipped, revealing a tiled mosaic on the floor. A shield with an eagle, a horseman, and a crown. The Kolodenko family crest. Kate sucked in a breath. There was only one reason she could think that the crest would be on the floor—this residence used to belong to the Kolodenkos. This was one of the buildings taken from them after the war. No wonder Lidka didn’t want to tell them what town she was taking Kate to. Giving her the benefit of the doubt, Kate could imagine Lidka protecting the Kolodenkos by not letting them know who was now living in their old home.
There was a knock on the door. “You okay?” Lidka. So much for breathing room.
“Yes. Fine.” She opened the door. “I noticed this crest here, in the tile.”
“There is another in the dining room, and another in the sitting room. You must have missed it.” Lidka crossed her arms and waited.
“Do the Kolodenkos know what has happened to their house?”
Lidka leaned against the doorframe. She looked away. “I have not told them. They know the state has taken much of their property and shared it with others.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
Lidka pushed off the frame and set her shoulders. “Why should it? How many homes does a family need when some of us have none?”
Kate shook her head. “I don’t know that you’d feel the same way if roles were reversed.”
Lidka shrugged. “Are you feeling things with that shoe?”
It was Kate’s turn to shrug. She still wasn’t sensing anything. “What if we need someone from the direct line of Kopciuszek to make it work? What if we need Nessa?” What if I can’t do it?
“It must be you, and you need to figure it out quickly. Malwinka is patient, but she will not wait forever.”