Anna K Page 19

  “No, this is great. I’ve always been curious about this place,” Anna replied, suddenly nervous. She had been expecting to go to a much more casual place for lunch, but when Vronsky suggested Keens she jumped at the idea. “Your mother didn’t want to join us?”

  “My mother only eats breakfast and dinner. She finds lunch ‘pedestrian,’” he said with a smile. “Give me a moment, I’ll grab us a table.”

  Before Anna could tell Vronsky she’d be fine at the bar, and might even prefer it, he was gone, appearing again moments later with the maître d’ by his side, a short man in a brown suit with a comically large mustache. Anna gamely followed him out of the bar through the first-floor dining room, past the maître d’s podium, and up a wooden staircase. Once on the second floor they crossed through a larger dining room and headed up a short flight of stairs that ended in a small hallway near the restrooms. Eventually the maître d’ gestured Anna through an open doorway, and they were in a small private dining room with only four tables, none of which were currently occupied. Anna turned around in confusion to face Vronsky, but before she could ask what was happening the maître d’, whose lapel pin read REMI, spoke, his voice low and booming. “Welcome to our Lillie Langtry room, named after our very first female customer in 1905. Ms. Langtry sued to gain access because she was tired of hearing about our famous mutton chops and wanted to try one for herself.”

  Anna laughed in surprise and sat down in the chair at a four-top table that he’d pulled out for her. Vronsky sat in the chair across from her, as the mustached man cleared off the other two table settings. He handed them each a large menu and informed them their waiter would be in shortly. Before leaving the room, he stopped, turned back as if to tell them something he had forgotten to say, and declared: “If I had a girlfriend as beautiful as you, I’d want to keep you all to myself, too. Happy Valentine’s Day.” He exited with a wave.

  Anna stared at Vronsky, her mouth open in surprise, but received only a shrug in response from him. “I only paid extra for the private room, not the compliment. That was all him. Though he does make a good point.”

  Ann looked around the quaint room in silence. She really didn’t know what to say. She was flattered by all the fuss, but this was followed by a nagging worry that being hidden away seemed to imply they were doing something wrong.

  “You’re uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I know the main dining room gets loud, and I wanted us to have a chance to talk without shouting. This place has several private rooms; the one I thought we’d be in is much larger and I’ve eaten there a lot of times with my brother and his friends. I didn’t even know about this room,” he said, standing. “I’ll go ask for another table.”

  “No, don’t. It’s okay. I like this room. And good for Lillie Langtry for standing up for what she wanted. It’s just…” Anna trailed off.

  Vronsky reached across the table and took Anna’s hand. “Tell me what you want. I’ll do whatever makes you happy.”

  At his touch, Anna blushed. Lunch in a private dining room was fine, but holding hands was definitely not. She pulled her hand back out of his grasp. “I am happy,” she said. “Happy that Jon Snow won second place. It’s nice to have someone to celebrate with.”

  She was about to tell Vronsky that her father would have been here with her if he could, but their waiter entered at that moment, a lanky man as tall as the maître d’ had been short, and as surly as the other was friendly. Anna decided to wait to thank Vronsky for his Valentine’s Day gifts, and instead the two ended up discussing every family animal they’d each had the pleasure of knowing. Vronsky was a skilled storyteller and captured his mother’s voice in a way that was accurate, but not disrespectful. His best story was about the time he and his older brother, Kiril, were charged with looking after one of his mother’s lap dogs, who they had managed to let wander off in an airport in Italy. The two of them searched everywhere, frantically trying to find the Yorkie, which they did only minutes before boarding their plane. Or so they thought. After they had taken off, they realized they had the wrong dog.

  “How did you find out?” Anna asked, her face bright from laughing.

  “When the dog lifted his hind leg and peed on the man’s shoe across the aisle. You see, my mother’s dog was named Petunia. She was a girl!”

  Anna then shared the history of how she came to love Newfoundlands, which she followed by telling the story of her six-year-old declaration of having a dog at Westminster one day when she was grown up.

  “Well cheers to you being all grown up!” Vronsky said, lifting his glass of sparkling cider to toast her. They clinked glasses merrily and moved on to the next animal they had in common: horses. Vronsky had ridden a lot as a child, in fact it was possible they crossed paths at Staugas Farms when they were both much younger. But when he rode a motorbike for the first time in Italy at the age of eleven he found himself less impressed by the speed of four legs, and hadn’t ridden a horse since, though his thrill-seeking tendencies made him a big fan of the Maryland Hunt Club timber race. Anna told Vronsky she was less attracted to the danger of horses and instead adored the companionship and connection they provided. She had two horses, both of whom were sure to be wondering if she was dead because she couldn’t recall the last time she had let an entire week go by without riding them. “I just don’t understand where the last two weeks have gone,” she said truthfully, then added, “Well, now that Westminster is over with, I suppose I can go back to my boring old ways.”

  “Boring? You? I highly doubt that!”

  Anna smiled and locked eyes with him. “You may be projecting, Alexia. Because from what I’ve heard, you’re the one at the table who has an exciting life. I’m sure I’m far less interesting than the many, many girls you normally run around with.”

  Alexia grinned and shuffled uncomfortably in his chair, but before he could respond she leaned in and continued.

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Anything.”

  “Why do they call you ‘the Count’?”

  “Do you really want to know?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, do I?”

  “When Bea and I were toddlers, she had this purple blankie I used to tie around my neck. Her favorite color was yellow and she wore this yellow dress all the time. So our parents nicknamed us ‘Bea Bird’ and ‘the Count.’”

  “You mean, like, from Sesame Street?”

  “Go ahead … laugh.”

  “It’s adorable. But you do know…” Anna trailed off, not wanting to be the one to repeat the rumor.

  “People think it’s because I’ve slept with too many girls to keep count. I do know and I’m fine with it. It’s far better than the truth.”

  “Not to me.”

  “Well good, because you’re the only one I’ve ever told.”

  Anna was thrilled that he’d confided in her something so embarrassing, but she was also alarmed. This was a crossroads, and they both recognized it immediately. They could keep up the pretense of a friendly meal filled with light chatter and family stories, or they could move on to more serious fare: talking about the undeniable chemistry between them. Vronsky would have liked to broach the subject, but there was no part of him that wished to talk about his reputation with Anna, and he couldn’t talk about the one without bringing up the other.

  This wasn’t out of fear that Anna would discover all the girls he had wined, dined, and 69’d before her. That was common knowledge he was sure she had heard. No, he strongly felt his past no longer mattered. His view since he met her was that Anna was his only future and no other girl mattered to him. Every moment he spent in her presence felt dreamlike and came with a beautiful yet disconcerting need to feel powerful in her eyes. Every single thing about her he found enthralling: the way she twisted her napkin while she talked, how she covered her mouth with her hands when she laughed too loudly, the way she leaned ever so slightly forward when he told an entertaining story. Against all these things he was powerless.


  “I was wondering what your thoughts were on whether we should return his dog,” he said in a quiet but firm tone. Anna was confused and her face showed it. Vronsky continued. “The homeless man from the train station. He’s posted a few lost dog signs. I found one the other day and was planning to call you about it.” Vronsky reached into his inside jacket pocket and removed a folded-up piece of paper. He handed it across the table to Anna.

  She took the paper and opened it, finding a crude homemade LOST DOG flyer with a hand-drawn charcoal sketch of a dog with a large square face that looked like a cross between a pit bull and a Rottweiler. The dog’s name was Balboa. There was no phone number listed, only the name Johnson listed as the owner and Grand Central Station as the address.

  “This is the dog you rescued … on the day we met?” Anna asked, sad to remember the other one who had died by her train on the night of their first encounter. She looked up to meet Alexia’s eyes and he nodded.

  “He’s still with my mom’s dog walker,” Vronsky reported. “I’ve taken him to the vet and he’s had a full checkup. I had them scan to make sure there wasn’t a previous owner before Johnson, and Balboa didn’t have an ID chip.” Vronsky reported these facts in a tone that was hard to read, though it softened as he went on. “It’s funny his name is Balboa, because I had been calling him Rocky since I found him.”

  Anna nodded, her smile withering and her mood now matching Vronsky’s. “So you’re asking whether we should reunite the dog with his homeless owner?” Anna paused, thinking. “I would need to talk to him. The man. I can’t decide until I meet him. Maybe I’ll see if I can find him.” Anna folded the paper Alexia had handed her and put it in her purse. She then pulled out her wallet.

  “Whoa, whoa. You mean to do this right now?” Vronsky asked, more than a little surprised by Anna’s decisive nature.

  “This sign is the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. He must be out of his mind right now. I’d go insane if one of my dogs went missing for two minutes; I don’t know what I’d be like after two weeks. Do you know how happy he’s going to be to get his dog back? And if we have it in our power to bring a happy ending to this story, why wouldn’t we do it on a day that’s all about love?”

  Vronsky found Anna’s passionate outburst captivating, though he wished she would be a bit more realistic. “Anna, everything you just said may be true, but that doesn’t change the fact the guy’s homeless. Shouldn’t we consider the dog’s welfare first?” Vronsky asked this in a way meant not to challenge Anna, but to better understand her.

  “Alexia, most people don’t choose to be homeless. I know my dogs would rather be with me on the streets than in a home with someone else. But I also concede that I’m a crazy dog lady so maybe I am jumping the gun. Look, I’ll know what to do when I find Johnson.”

  “That’s fine, but what’s not is you tracking down some homeless dude by yourself.”

  “Well, then I guess we need to get the check, because I only have a few hours before the Best in Show judging starts.”

  Vronsky shook his head in wonder. Perhaps winning that ribbon and fulfilling her childhood goal had catapulted her into adulthood after all. He stood up from the table. “I’ll go get the check, but you owe me a dessert.” Anna looked up at the beautiful boy standing before her and nodded.

  XII

  The pair, one blond and blue-eyed, the other raven-haired with charcoal eyes, made a striking couple as they walked lockstep into Grand Central Terminal together. First, they had surveyed the streets around the entrance, showing the poster to every homeless person they found, like two TV detectives looking for a lead on a missing person’s case.

  “Excuse me, sir, do you know a Johnson? He’s a man who lost his dog,” Anna asked. Her questions were almost always met with blank stares, but Vronsky followed this up by holding out cash, which really opened the dialogue. From what they could gather, Johnson was a regular in the neighborhood, usually sleeping on the benches inside the station. No one had seen him in the past day or two.

  A determined Anna took the news in stride and headed inside the station with the intention of exploring every train platform until they found him. Together they crossed through the grand hall. Anna had decided they should start with the track where Johnson’s other dog had died. If she were bereft and desperate, that’s where she would be.

  “Track twenty-seven,” Vronsky volunteered, not caring that he was showing his sentimentality by remembering their first meeting place.

  Before they went down the escalator leading to the track, Anna stepped to the right and turned to face Vronsky. “Thank you for coming with me,” Anna said.

  “Are you kidding me? There’s no one else I’d rather be spending my day—”

  “Stop. You didn’t let me finish.”

  “I’m sorry. Go on,” he added quickly, again in awe of the dazzling beauty before him.

  “I also want to thank you for the…” She paused, looking for the right words. “… very thoughtful gifts you sent me earlier today. I appreciated all of them, but I can’t keep them. My bag is still at the Garden, so I can return them to you when we get back later.”

  Vronsky frowned, unprepared for this. He was careful to keep his voice casual and calm. “But I don’t want them back. They’re for you, Anna. Each one was for only you.”

  “Alexia, I know you know this, but right now I think we both need to be reminded: I have a boyfriend. It’s not right for me to accept gifts from another guy.” She took a breath and forced herself to just say it. “Especially today of all days. I’m sorry.”

  “No, no, don’t apologize, Anna,” Vronsky responded, reaching out to touch her arm but then stopping himself. “It’s me who should be apologizing. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just had to let you know how I feel. You’re all I’ve been thinking about since we first met. And I promise I’ve never felt like—”

  “Alexia, stop,” Anna interjected. “Talking about it will only make it worse, okay?” This wasn’t going at all how she wanted it to. “Can’t we just be friends? Friends who look for homeless people together?” Anna tried to keep her voice light and airy.

  “Yes, of course,” Vronsky replied, not looking at her. He said the words because he had to, not because he believed them. Alexia Vronsky didn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t view Anna as a friend, and frankly he didn’t want her to see him that way, either.

  Anna nodded, relieved to have done what she knew was right. She stepped forward and went down the escalator. She wasn’t sure whether he’d follow her, but she hoped he would.

  Vronsky stepped onto the escalator two steps behind her, continuing their odyssey together.

  Anna’s intuition was quickly confirmed. They found Johnson lying down on a bench at the far end of the platform. He looked to be in his forties, but his stringy hair and beard, both fully gray, gave him the appearance of someone much older.

  “Johnson?” Anna asked. “We want to talk to you about Balboa.”

  The man sat up so fast, Anna startled and stepped backward, while Vronsky stepped forward, putting his arm out to shield Anna.

  “Where is he?” Johnson asked, his eyes wild. “Did you find him? I’ve been scouring the whole damn city…” His anguish was evident.

  Anna, unafraid, sat down next Johnson and looked him in the eye, explaining how they were there the night he was arrested. Vronsky had rescued Balboa and taken him to a safe place. Johnson’s relief at the news was clear and he excitedly told them how he had found Balboa three years ago when he was a puppy, abandoned and bleeding in a dumpster. He had nursed the dog to health and Balboa had repaid his kindness and protected him when he was once attacked by a group of drunken college kids. Clearly the memory upset Johnson because he grew agitated. “You’re going to give him back. He’s my dog. Mine! He’s all I have now that Scottie’s gone.”

  Vronsky bristled, but Anna kept her cool. “We are. We will. I needed to meet you first.”

  “Are you sure you’re able to ta
ke care of him?” Vronsky added.

  “He eats before I do. I treat him good,” Johnson said defensively. He was growing more anxious by the second. He kept rubbing his dirty jeans with both hands and then whispered, “He’s mine and I need him. He needs me, too!”

  Anna, now satisfied, gently told Johnson they’d return Balboa to him.

  “Now! You do it now!” The man jumped up and grabbed Anna’s arm.

  Vronsky stepped in quickly, pulling Anna away from Johnson’s grip in one swift motion. “Sir, you need to calm down right now! If it weren’t for her, you’d never see your dog again. I, personally, wonder if Balboa wouldn’t be better off where he is.”

  Johnson apologized immediately, assuring them over and over that he was able to take care of the dog. “I miss him so much. Please, he’s all I have. I love him and he loves me. We should be together.”

  Anna promised Johnson they would return, and she and Vronsky left together. They took the subway to the dog walker’s apartment, then shared an Uber back to Grand Central with Balboa sitting in between them, and then watched the reunion between Johnson and Balboa that even Vronsky had to admit was touching. Afterward they passed the time conversing on safe subjects: the classes they were taking, the friends they had in common, and the TV shows they both watched. Neither mentioned the holiday again, though there were signs of Valentine’s Day everywhere. As the sky darkened into night, they saw dressed-up couples heading into restaurants holding hands. There were women on the street proudly carrying the flowers they had received at work from their lovers. They even watched a man crossing the street in front of them holding a giant bouquet of heart-shaped balloons flapping around in the breezy twilight.

  Anna and Vronsky had spent half the day together, hours of walking close, their hands inches apart, itching to reach for the other. In the cab back to Madison Square Garden, they were quiet at first, both lost in thought contemplating their weird and wonderful day. A few blocks away from the Garden, Anna turned to Vronsky. “If you think I didn’t notice you giving Johnson money for Balboa, you’d be dead wrong.”