Tess's lip curled in disgust and they switched positions again, this time down into a push-up and then immediately into Child's Pose. She was already winded and sweaty, but her grandmother looked like she'd just stepped out of an AARP magazine. Even in her yoga clothes, she was still wearing her pearls, and her hair was perfectly in place.
"You know Carl is well-to-do," Tatiana said. "He ought to be charging two hundred dollars for ten minutes of unclogging a toilet. And money and how to get it is all Theodora would have in mind when she invited him over. How she got him to go off with her is a mystery, but she managed to do it. She'll be back when his money runs out, without a lick of remorse. Whether or not Carl has the guts to come back with her will be the question. Word has it that Tamara is fit to be tied. Their whole savings account is gone. I wouldn't be surprised if the sheriff has to get involved when Theodora comes back. Tamara isn't one of those women to stand by and let people get away with stuff like that. It's disgraceful."
"Tell me about it," Tess said, repeating the positions for the second circuit. "Aren't you embarrassed? She's your daughter. How can you stand all the gossip?"
"Easy," Tatiana said. "I moved to the city where no one knows or cares who she is. You think these old people give two hoots about Theodora Sherman? They're too busy keeping their meds straightened out and regulating their bowel movements."
"That doesn't help me a whole lot," Tess said.
"Buck up, girl," she said. "No one has to answer for Theodora except Theodora. She doesn't define you, and you shouldn't let anyone make you feel that way. Hold your head up high. She is what she is, and you are what you are. One has nothing to do with the other."
The instructor called for the Bridge Pose, and Tess muttered, "Good grief," under her breath, and then worked her way awkwardly into a back bend. She glanced over at Tatiana and saw she'd reached the position easily. "Ridiculous."
"Hey, can you keep it down," the old guy next to her said. "I can't concentrate with all that foreign yapping. This is America for God's sake."
She and Tatiana both responded in kind, neither of their replies something they would've said in English. Fortunately for the old guy, the poses were getting harder and Tess needed all her concentration and air. Old people yoga wasn't for the weak.
When they were finished, Tess lay on her yoga mat and wondered why she put herself through the torture. The only thing that got her up off the floor was the fact that everyone else was already up and out the door, going about their active lifestyles. She crawled onto her hands and knees and then pushed herself to her feet.
"Come on, girl, you're embarrassing me," Tatiana said. "I've got a reputation here."
Tess thought it ironic that she was the embarrassment instead of her mother, but that was the point of distancing oneself she guessed.
"If we hurry, we can still make breakfast. They stop serving at eight-thirty to get ready for the lunch crowd. I could use some pancakes."
"Right, sounds good," Tess lied, thinking she'd throw up anything she put in her mouth.
They made it to the little restaurant just in time for breakfast, and the hostess didn't look too happy about the fact. The sun was shining, but it was already close to ninety outside, despite the fact it was still early morning, so they opted to sit inside in the air-conditioning instead of on the covered patio.
Tatiana would occasionally dab at her temples with the blue towel that was draped casually across her shoulders, but that was the only sign she'd spent the morning working out. Tess's yoga pants and tank top were soaked through with sweat, and she'd caught her reflection in one of the windows as they'd walked by and it wasn't pretty. Her face was beet-red and her top knot had slipped to the side of her head. She immediately drank the ice water that was put in front of her and waited for it to be refilled.
"Do you ever think about your time in Russia?" she asked her grandmother. Deacon's words had been on her mind, about how their upbringing and language were different because of their Mafiya ties.
"Of course not," she said dismissively. "Why would I?"
"Maybe because it's where you came from. Those are your roots."
Her grandmother's lips tightened into a fine line and she got that steely look in her eye. "There's not much about those days worth remembering. We lived like royalty. My father was a very influential man. But things change. Politics change. People change. And their alliances change. Much the same happened during the Romanov era. In Russia, people who are in power can fall very quickly. One day we were royalty, and one day my father was dead and we were escaping with only our lives and nothing else. I was just a girl. My life has been here."