46

Jack and Liliana feasted, raving about Maria’s steaks and the side dishes as they ate, especially the sour rye soup with sausage and bacon. Tomasz sat next to Jack, who cut up his steak into little boy-sized bites.

Maria instructed Alexa to play Spanish guitar instrumental music during dinner. The conversation flowed from favorite music to movies, then to history, and finally politics, which Jack quickly deflected, feigning ignorance and disdain for the subject to avoid conjuring up any possible connections with his famous father, to whom he still bore a strong resemblance despite the beard. When the subject finally turned to economics, Maria’s professional expertise, Liliana threw her hands up.

“Oh, no. When we start talking about inverted yield curves and Smoot–Hawley, I know it’s my turn to wash the dishes.” Liliana stood and gathered plates.

Jack stood as well. “Here, let me help you.”

“Nonsense. You’re our guest,” Maria said, laying a hand on his arm. “As soon as she clears the table, we’ll have dessert.” She turned to Tomasz and told him the name of the dessert in Polish. The boy laughed and repeated it. “Szarlotka!”

Maria quizzed Jack about the American stock market—he was a financial analyst, after all—and what direction he thought the market would take after the recent announcement by the Fed to hike interest rates a half-point. He gave his opinion and fired back at her about the European Central Bank and its latest round of quantitative easing. And so it went for the next twenty minutes.

Somewhere in that conversation, Tomasz had managed to slip out of his chair and into Jack’s lap, his bright eyes flitting back and forth between Jack and Maria as if he were following the conversation word for word.

Liliana fell into her chair. “Okay, Mother. Where’s that szarlotka you promised?”

Jack sniffed the air. “Oh, I’d say it’s right around the corner.” A timer went off a second later.

“Coming right up.” Maria stood. “Coffee?”

“Please.” He said this as Tomasz was rubbing Jack’s beard with his stubby little fingers, slick with steak grease.

“Tomasz! What are you doing?” Liliana pointed at her son. “Do you want me to take him?”

“Nah. He’s fine. I used to hold my younger brother and sister like this, a million years ago. I kinda miss it.”

Maria arrived, setting bowls on the table heaping with szarlotka—steaming-hot apple pie, along with big scoops of vanilla ice cream that was already starting to melt.

“Oh, Mother. This is too much.”

“Ridiculous. You’re skinny as a rail. And Jack packs so much muscle he’ll burn it off just sitting there.”

She returned with a small bowl of the same confectionary concoction for Tomasz and set it down on his place mat in front of his chair.

“Leave Mr. Ryan alone to eat his dessert in peace,” she said in Polish, or so Jack assumed.

“Nie” was the boy’s familiar reply. He leaned over the table and reached for the corner of the place mat, which he seized with his little fingers, and gently pulled the apple pie over to himself. He picked up the spoon and jabbed it into the pie and lifted it to his mouth.

“Careful, bucko. It’s hot.” Jack blew on his spoon to demonstrate.

Tomasz gave him a quizzical look, then did the same to his before taking a bite.

“You’re ruining my son,” Liliana said. “Or is it the other way around?”

Jack shrugged and smiled, and kept eating. “Man, this pie is awesome.”


They finally finished dinner, and while Maria and Liliana cleaned up the rest of the kitchen, Jack and Tomasz finished their plastic safari adventures.

Twenty minutes later, Liliana reappeared and told her son in no uncertain terms, “It’s time for bed.”

Tomasz shot a worried look at Jack. Back me up, dude.

Jack shrugged. “Sorry, buddy. When the boss says it’s time, it’s time.”

He stood, and Liliana reached down to pick up her son. The boy laughed and squirmed. She finally got ahold of him and lifted him up like a sack of potatoes, holding him upside down, to his squealing delight.

“Oh, such a big boy. Too big for Mommy to carry much longer.” She looked at Jack. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll take you back to your hotel.”

“Oh, don’t bother. I can catch an Uber.”

“No, please. Happy to do it. Just fifteen minutes or so.”

“Okay.”

Jack sat on the comfortable couch, pulled out his cell phone, and checked for messages. He grinned when he heard Liliana fussing to get Tomasz to wash his face and brush his teeth.

A text from Gerry caught his eye. He’d sent it about an hour ago.

Everything okay over there?

Jack texted back.

All good but nothing to show for it. Heading to the coast tomorrow. Will check in after I get there.

He heard Maria, Liliana, and Tomasz at the end of the hallway. The door was open to Tomasz’s bedroom. They were praying in Polish. He wondered if it was the same prayer his folks prayed with him at bedtime when he was a little boy. He was glad he wasn’t asked to join them—he hadn’t prayed like that in years.

But then again, why would they?

They finished up about the time Jack had cleaned out his inbox. Liliana and Maria came into the living room. Jack stood.

“Something else to drink, Jack? A brandy? A vodka?”

Jack patted his stomach. “I don’t have another ounce of room in me. Dinner was fantastic. Thank you so very much for inviting me into your home and for the wonderful evening.”

Maria hugged him. “It was a pleasure meeting you as well. Take care of yourself, Jack, and I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

“Maybe we will.”

“And, please, you must come by again if you’re ever in Warsaw. Our home is always open to you.”

“Tomasz says good-bye, too,” Liliana said. “He doesn’t want you to leave.”

Maria leaned in close and whispered to Jack. “I think you remind him of his father a little. Or at least, his picture.”

Jack wasn’t sure what to do with that. But he had to admit, the kid really got to him.

“I’m so sorry for his loss, Maria. But at least he has the two of you, and that makes him one fortunate young man.”

Liliana buttoned her topcoat. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”