Zoya

“If Dad had only lived to see this day,” he whispered to her as he watched the jubilation in the streets, and Zoya looked up at her handsome son tenderly. He looked more than ever like Nicolai, particularly now in his uniform. He had become a man in his years away, and she wasn't surprised when he told her he wasn't going back to Princeton. He wanted to begin learning what he needed to of the empire Simon had left behind him. Paul taught him all that he needed to know of it, and Nicholas was stunned by the money that had been left to him. Sasha knew also that she would be inheriting a great deal of money the following year, although she did not yet know how much. But Nicholas was aghast when he saw the way she behaved when he stayed with Zoya briefly. She was out until the early morning hours every night, came home drunk most of the time, and was rude to everyone who tried to talk to her about what she did, particularly Nicholas, but also Zoya. He was furious when he talked to his mother about it late one night. Sasha had come in early that night, and was already passed out cold in her room. A boy in uniform had dropped her off and he was so drunk he could hardly walk as Nicholas almost threw him out.

“Can't you do something about her, Mama? She's totally out of control.”

“She's too old to spank, Nicholas, and I can't lock her in her room.”

“I'd like to try it,” he looked grim, but the next morning when he talked to his sister it was to no avail. She was gone again that night, and didn't return until well after four o'clock in the morning.

She was even more beautiful than she'd been before, she was too young for her excesses to hurt her looks, but Zoya knew that if she didn't stop, in time they would. And Zoya was less than pleased when, that December, she eloped. She had married a boy she had known for less than three weeks, and the fact that he was the son of a polo player in Palm Beach was small consolation to her. His life-style was as wild as her own, they drank and they danced and cavorted every night, and it was even more upsetting when Sasha blithely told her mother when she came to New York in March that she was expecting a baby sometime in September.

“On Matthew's birthday, I think.” She was decidedly vague as he wandered into the room. He was six and a half years old, with Simon's big brown eyes and gentle ways. He adored Nicholas, but he had learned to keep out of his sister's way long since. She drank too much, and she was either indifferent or openly unpleasant. She was twenty-one by then, and the inheritance Simon had left only hurled her faster toward her own destruction.

In June, she came home again and announced that Freddy was cheating on her, and she instantly took revenge. She bought a new car, two diamond bracelets, slept with one of his friends, in spite of her delicate state, and went back to Palm Beach to find her husband. Zoya knew that there was nothing she could do. Even Nicholas didn't want to talk about it anymore. She was what she was, and none of it was pleasant. She talked about it often with Paul, and his gentle wisdom somewhat consoled her.

Nicholas took Matthew fishing on the weekends, and to the park to play ball, whenever he could. He had his hands full at work, but he always made time for the boy, which in turn, gave Zoya a few quiet moments with Paul Kelly. They continued to conduct their affair quietly, and Nicholas never knew, which was a tribute to Paul and Zoya's discretion.

In late August, Sasha's baby was born, a tiny baby girl with bright red hair. Zoya went to Florida to see her, and stood looking at her with awe. She was so small and so sweet, and her mother seemed to have no interest in her at all. Almost as soon as the child was born, Sasha was carousing and careening everywhere in her expensive cars, with or without the equally self-indulgent Freddy. Zoya never knew where they were, and the baby was always left with a nurse, much to Zoya's disapproval. She tried to talk to Sasha about her life-style during their rare conversations on the phone, but predictably Sasha didn't want to hear it. And Nicholas never heard from her anymore either. She almost seemed to have faded from their lives, and Zoya was especially sad not to see more of Sasha's baby, Marina. And when the phone rang on Christmas Eve, Zoya found herself hoping it was Sasha. Nicholas was having dinner with her, and Matthew had just gone to bed, after decorating the tree. He was seven years old, and still believed in Santa Claus almost, although Zoya suspected it would be the last year. He was still the joy in her life, and she was smiling happily as she picked up the receiver.