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must tell me more.”
    â€œAfter Poland I visited the Black Sea and was lucky enough to interview the senior chef at the Hotel Odessa. He was a very nice man. He taught me all about varieties of borscht.”
    Noah’s mother looked at Grace with outright surprise. “Not many have the good sense to appreciate borscht or our dumplings.” Tatiana wiped her hands on her apron and smiled slowly. “It appears that you are one of the rare few.”
    Without looking, Tatiana called to her older son, who was in the process of stealing a cookie from the plate near the window. “No snacking, Reed. Youwill show good manners before our honored guest, please. That is understood?”
    â€œYes, Mama.” Reed shook his head. “Although how you have eyes in the back of your head is a mystery to me.”
    â€œYears of practice, my love. There were times I needed them to survive,” Tatiana said quietly. “But enough of that. The food is ready, so now we will eat.”

CHAPTER FOUR
    I T WAS A SMALL ROOM , filled with the rich smells that came from slow, loving preparations. Noah’s brother sat beside a petite, animated woman who was sliding a toddler into a high chair. Laughter boomed as food was passed around to the accompaniment of praise and loud arguments. Clearly, everyone had an opinion and even the brothers seemed to know a good deal about cooking. Grace hid her surprise, swept up in the conversation swirling around her. This energetic, nonstop drama was nothing like dinner with her grandfather, though she instantly felt guilty for making comparisons.
    Everyone was kind, offering food and including her in the conversation.
    When she had eaten eight perogies and couldn’t eat one more mouthful, Grace excused herself to go check on the kittens in the adjacent den, asleep before the fire in a clean box lined with soft flannel sheets. As she stroked their warm fur, she heard Noah lean down beside her.
    â€œEverything okay in here?”
    â€œJust fine. The little ones are sleeping and Momis getting a well-deserved rest.” Grace smiled as the tiny puppy looked up at Noah and thumped his tail in greeting. “I think he likes you.”
    â€œGood. Because he’s definitely on my wish list. But that’s your call.” He picked up the puppy, his hands gentle. “You’re something special, aren’t you?”
    Grace heard the rough tenderness in his voice. His words seemed to melt over her skin.
    She pulled away from him, frowning. Angry at herself that she suddenly wanted to lean closer. “Of course you can have him. I couldn’t have got them to safety without you. And it’s clear that he loves you already.” She scratched the puppy gently under the chin. “What are you going to call him?”
    â€œIvan.” He saw Grace’s questioning look. “As in The Terrible. Since he looks as sweet as sin.” His long fingers skimmed the puppy’s head.
    Grace couldn’t seem to look away. “Well. That’s…nice,” she said finally.
    Noah shot her a look. “Something tells me that you aren’t used to this kind of chaos. My family gets a bit noisy. At the table you looked a little shell-shocked.”
    â€œI’m not overwhelmed. And I’m not fragile.” Yet, because she felt fragile at that moment, watching Noah stroke the puppy with those careful hands, Grace took a quick breath and squared her shoulders. “I can take care of myself nicely, thank you.”
    â€œI didn’t say you couldn’t. I said that you weren’tused to all our noise and bickering. Dad tells me it’s a Ukrainian thing. My mom, on the other hand, insists it’s a Scottish thing,” he added drily. “So do you have a big family?”
    Grace shook her head. “My grandfather is all. He likes things calm and orderly. Everything in its place.”
    Noah sat down beside her on the rug.