Baba accompanies me to the diner the next morning, portfolio in hand. We're sitting for ten minutes before Claudia arrives. I know she likes my father, and her smile grows wider when she sees him. Her reaction to him is far less shocked than most women I've brought home to meet him. If anything, she seems to find him funny, the way I do, rather than feeling on the spot about his constant attempts to marry me off. When I was a teen, his efforts horrified and mortified me, and Mikael refused to bring anyone home for a seven-year stretch.
In my early twenties, I learned to watch the reaction of the woman I was with as one of the ways to gauge both her interest and how good she was with my father. Family is important to me, and any woman who doesn't get along with Baba isn't going to be around for long.
The moment Claudia enters, he waves her over. She approaches with two mugs of coffee and my pie. In truth, I'm almost grateful Baba is here today. I'm a little raw from yesterday, a little less able to force a smile than usual. There's a new kind of tension between Claudia and me, one I chalk up to emotional restraint. It doesn't feel good, like stretching towards someone standing on the other side of a chasm but never reaching them.
"Here is my project for you," Baba tells her.
She glances at me. "Anton, are you sure you don't want someone with more experience to do this?"
"No."
"He wants you." I wink at her and am satisfied with pink fills her cheeks. She averts her gaze from mine, though I catch the movement of her wringing her hands in her apron.
"Christmas cards," Baba proclaims. "They must have the following: a Russian reindeer, a tree, red and green color scheme, and they must not be sappy."
Her brow furrows. "Russian reindeer?"
"He's offended by the image of caribou on cards," I explain. "Real reindeer come from Russia and nowhere else, right, Baba?"
"Correct," Baba says and sips his coffee. "Here are pictures of reindeer." He hands her the portfolio.
She accepts it. "Okay. I, uh, I'll work on it," Claudia says, a bit baffled. "When do you need it by?"
"A week. You have a computer?"
"An old one. It should work fine."
"Petr, give her your computer," Baba orders me.
"No, it's okay," she flashes a smile. "If I need his computer, I can let him know."
Baba nods, satisfied. I'm trying not to laugh at the oddball task, knowing full well why this bizarre project is being levied in the first place. It has nothing to do with Christmas cards and everything to do with the fact Baba likes Claudia. Claudia, for her part, is being sweet about it. Baba's tried similar tricks with girlfriends of mine and Mikael's and either been laughed off, ignored or told outright no.