Molly put the trays down in front of her last three customers, studying the seating arrangement as she did. Nub was in the seat against the wall, which would have given him full view of the room, being so close to the bar. Angie was seated across from him, with her back to the table that Daniel had been sitting at. Callie was to Angie’s right, pretty much across from the bar. It made sense to her, but Molly still felt there was some significance to the fact that Angie had her back to Daniel, especially in view of her reaction to meeting him.

"So, are you set, or can I get anything else for you?" she asked.

Nub shook his head, and Angie quickly said, "I’m fine," as Callie said, "We’re good."

"Okay, then," Molly started, but never got further in her statement.

The kitchen door was flung open and a tall, blond, solidly built bear of a man charged towards them, nearly running over one of the fishermen leaving the bar. The man wiped his hands on the full length apron he wore as he announced, "Boris has fed all of Hope Island but YOU!" and he pointed a finger at Molly, glowering fiercely as he spoke. Even as his words reverberated in the rafters, he continued his tirade.

"So, you will sit, here," and he pulled out the one remaining chair at the table where the last three diners were now staring at him instead of eating, "and Boris will feed you." Molly opened her mouth to protest, and Boris immediately thundered, "Sit! Moosh moosh,"* and made a shooing gesture with his hands.

*(Author’s note: "Moosh moosh" has become Boris’ tag line in Hope Island, so I have spelled it as he says it. I don’t know if it’s a real Russian word or if it’s his pronunciation of "mush", the word used to start up a sled dog team. I’m not sure I want to know, either.)

Molly sat, deciding that cooperation was the better decision at the moment. Nodding his satisfaction, Boris was about to walk away when he got a better look at the others seated at the table.

"You!" he boomed, pointing a finger at Angie, who automatically cringed away from that gesture. "Boris knows everyone on Hope Island," he announced, then in a gentler tone added, "well, almost everyone, but am getting better," and he nodded in agreement to his own statement. Angie looked to Callie for help to escape her predicament, but Callie was eating her meal as if nothing unusual was happening, so Angie looked to Nub, who, as it happens, was again gazing at her adoringly.

"Boris does not know you," he announced, loud enough that Angie covered her ears and wished for an extra set of hands to add over them. "So, you will tell Boris now, who you are."

"Boris, you’re coming on like the KGB," Alex announced from the bar, even as her last three patrons there were trying to sidle past Boris to make their escape. "Can’t you see you’re scaring her?" In an aside, meant to be heard by the others, she added, "and knocking plaster off the ceiling." She shook her head slowly from side to side, but her expression was one of amusement at her Russian cook.

Boris took a step back, forcing the three fugitives to immediately sit again on the bar stools as if they had never planned on being part of a jail break. Boris looked at Alex, who nodded solemnly to him as confirmation of her statement, and Boris immediately looked chagrined. Turning his attention back to Angie, he said in a quieter, conciliatory tone that only rattled some of the glassware, "Boris was never KGB. Have been many things, finest painter in all of Russia, cook, swordswallower, and came this close," he moved thumb and forefinger to indicate a space barely a half inch between them, "to being cosmonaut."

"He couldn’t fit into the space suit," Nub told Angie, with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes. Angie, catching the unspoken message, though not hearing the quiet words Nub said, removed her hands and relaxed slightly, smiling back to let Nub know she understood.

"You see," Boris thundered again, and Angie muttered, "Earplugs. Gotta get earplugs."

"What he say. Is true. But no, Boris has never been KGB. So, now you know I am Boris Obolenski. Who you are?"

"This is my friend Angie Ramirez from New York," Callie told him, aware of how intimidating Boris was coming across to her friend, and hoping to draw some of his fire away from Angie so that she could relax.

"Ah, New York," Boris said, an expression of fondness crossing his face. "Statue of Liberty, Long Island Ferry, the Mets ... Boris first arrive in New York when come here from Russia. So," and his tone changed from gentle remembrance back to his forceful business tone, "Boris sees you have chosen Nub. Would have liked if you chose Boris, but no matter. Is done."

"Chosen Nub?" Angie asked, fearful it meant exactly what she thought.

"Boris see. Nub makes the goop eyes at Angie, Angie make goop eyes back at Nub. Boris knows these things."

"Goop eyes?" Molly, Callie, and Alex asked simultaneously, while Angie realized he did mean what she thought.

"You mean ‘goo goo’ eyes?" Angie asked.

"Yes. What you say. Boris understands these things. Am happy for Nub. In fact," and Boris clapped his hands together suddenly, making the three fishermen at the bar jerk so hard from the surprise of the loud noise that one knocked his drink off the bar, splashing Alex as she expertly caught it before it landed on the floor.

"Boris throw big swing dance tomorrow night. We celebrate. Good party." He nodded to himself in approval.

"Boris, you don’t have to do that," Nub started, turning red with embarrassment.

"Is done deal." Boris told him, cutting off further argument.

"Look, Boris, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go get myself some dinner," Molly told him, trying to get out of the chair.

"No," he thundered at her, again startling the men at the bar. Fortunately, no drinks were knocked over this time, as all of the men were holding tight to their glasses, having learned their lessons from the last episode.

"Boris will do this. Do not want you to quit. So will wait on you." He turned to leave, but Molly grabbed hold of his apron and tugged until he turned back around.

"What makes you think I’m going to quit?" she asked him, even as Alex asked, "Quit? Molly, I’m trying to hire a busboy, really ..."

"I’m not going to quit," Molly said firmly, still holding tight to Boris’ apron.

"You bet your borscht you’re not," Alex said firmly, then, resting elbows on the bar, sunk her face into her hands with a moan, adding, "Oh now he’s got me saying that."

At this point Daniel returned from the kitchen, wearing a full length apron with large pockets, and carrying the large plastic bucket used to haul the dirty silverware and dishes back to the kitchen, as well as the wet rag that he tossed to Dylan. They started cleaning their own table, making sure they kept said table between them and Boris.

"Oh Daniel, that’s so sweet of you," Alex said, seeing him loading the dishes into his carrying bucket. "I’ll pay you for this."

"Pay Dylan," Daniel replied. "I’m just training him so he can fill in on busy nights when he doesn’t have school the next day."

"That is such a good idea," Alex said, and Dylan’s face lit up. A chance to earn money for the stuff his mother can’t afford to buy. "Thanks, Daniel," he said, and started washing the table with a passion.

‘Don’t forget to save any scraps of fish for Ruby and Bonita’s cat," Alex called to him.

"Right," Daniel said, moving on to the next table behind the one they had occupied, thus putting his back to the group he was studiously avoiding.

"Boris now go cook fish and chips for best waitress in Hope Island," Boris announced, turning to walk away. The three fishermen at the bar again stood in the hopes of making their exits, but Alex whispered to them, "Not yet."

"What not yet?" Boris asked her, turning to face her, and thus rattling a shelf behind her that really needed one more support brace.

Daniel recognized the sound, and called, "I’m gonna fix that for you tonight, Alex, it’s going to fall one of these days." At the same time, Alex told Boris, in answer to his question, "You haven’t told me why Molly was going to quit," even as Molly said, "Please, Boris, no fish and chips."

"I’ve seen you with a hammer, Daniel, I’ll do it myself," Alex called to him, as Molly told her, "I am NOT going to quit," and Boris said, "Daniel said Molly was getting krinkly," to Alex, then said to Molly, "What is wrong with fish and chips? Is old family recipe, eat much fish in Russia, learn to make many different ways." Then, as was his custom, he added a clarifier, "of course, more chips than fish, and not call them chips, but ..."

"Could we have one conversation at a time?" Alex demanded. "Boris, you sit for a moment. There!" She pointed to the table that Daniel and Dylan had cleaned; Boris pulled a chair from it, turned it around so he would be facing the group but still have a clear view of his boss, and sat as ordered.

As soon as he had cleared the pathway, the fishermen at the bar rose, tossed a few coins on the bar as tip, and hurried toward the exit, just as Boris yelled to Daniel, now working his way toward the kitchen to empty his bucket, "Big swing dance tomorrow night, Daniel, to celebrate. You be there, da?"

"Celebrate what, Boris?" Daniel asked, turning so that he could push the swinging door with his back to open it.

"Nub and Angie’s marriage," Boris announced triumphantly.

Daniel dropped the bucket, causing many of the plates and glasses to shatter. The fishermen ran out of the Widow’s Walk at that sound, not wanting to be around a potential health hazard any longer.

"Maybe I should hire Kenny again to bus tables. He didn’t break that many dishes," Alex said, though she certainly couldn’t blame him for being shocked. After all, Daniel’s own, recently ended, marriage had been a spur of the moment decision, albeit one he didn’t quite remember making the morning after, so he would be upset to hear about someone else making the same mistake.

"We’re not getting married!" Nub and Angie yelled simultaneously.

"See, already they talk together like old married couple," Boris exclaimed proudly.

Alex rubbed her forehead as she tried to think of how to handle this situation. Looking to Daniel she stated, "Now I’m gonna have to pay you, Daniel, so I can dock your pay for the breakage."

"I’ll pay for this, Alex," Daniel assured her, as he carried what was left in the bucket into the kitchen.

"Oh you will," Alex told the swinging door, "because you’ll never live it down." Then she turned her attention back to Molly and Boris.

"Okay, now then. One at a time. Boris, Nub and Angie are not getting married," and as Boris opened his mouth to speak she told him, "you will be quiet. Speak only when ordered. Got it? Just nod yes and keep still." Boris nodded.

"So, forget ‘goop’ eyes. Forget ‘marriage’. Forget celebrate. But have the swing dance anyway, I could use a little fun for a change. Okay?" Boris again nodded agreement, afraid to speak. Alex then turned her attention to Molly.

"Molly, why were you going to quit?" she asked her friend in a nearly tearful, pleading tone. While she was asking, Daniel returned from the kitchen with an empty bucket, a broom, and a dustpan, and began sweeping up the mess on the floor.

"I wasn’t. I never said a word, really, I didn’t. I don’t know where Boris got that idea from," she said.

"That one’s probably my fault, Alex," Daniel told her, sheepishly. "Boris asked me why I was doing the clean up, and I told him Molly was getting a little cranky ..."

"I was not cranky!" Molly yelled in anger, even as Boris said, "Cranky? What kind of word is that? Boris never hear such a word ..." which, of course, prompted Alex to yell, "Quiet!" At her command, the room again fell silent, except for the shaky shelf behind her. The loose support fell out of the wall in fear of her wrath, causing the two glasses on it to fall to the floor and break at the far end of the bar, close to where Daniel was sweeping.

Alex stared at it, then said, "When you’re done there, Daniel, would you mind ..."

"Sure, Alex, no problem," he replied.

"Daniel, please finish telling us what you said to Boris." Then, to the group of diners who had finished their meals some time ago, she said, "You really don’t have to stick around if you don’t want to." It was then that Alex saw Callie was scribbling furiously in her notepad, and Nub was so transfixed with Angie that he might not even be aware of what had happened all around him. "You’re going to put this in the paper?" she moaned to Callie, who smiled at her with, "Uh huh, biggest news I’ve had all week."

"Be kind," Alex asked, "and just remember it’s been a long, hard, day." Then she turned her attention back to Daniel. "You were saying, Daniel?"

"I told Boris that Molly was a little cranky," at which point Alex raised her hand to silence any further protests from Molly or interruptions from Boris, allowing Daniel to complete his sentence, "because she was hungry and tired, so I thought it would be a nice thing to do to let her sit down and have dinner while I taught Dylan how to clean tables. That’s all I said," he added in self-defense.

"May I go make myself some dinner, now," Molly asked.

"No, Boris will make you dinner. Boris said he would and means what he says. Even if gets words all wrong. Much to learn this English." He then muttered something in Russian that no one wanted translated.

"No fish and chips, please, Boris?" Molly asked, quickly adding, "That’s all you’ve been serving all night, the kitchen reeks of it, and I feel like I’ve eaten a ton of it already."

Boris nodded his head in agreement, but said, "But what can cook, nothing else ready to serve ... Ah, Boris knows!" His smile lit up his face. "Have shrimp in freezer, not much, maybe only one meal, cannot put on menu. Tell customers, sorry, all out, after one order? Nyet. But for Molly, is good. So, done deal. Which sauce you want, Rooster Feathers or Cossack?"

Angie had been watching all of this in amazement, and had started to relax as she recognized the same type of interplay she had known in the movie industry. Now, with Boris’ question concerning sauces, she again felt a little nervous, and looked to her half-eaten dinner to see what type of sauce she had. It was a standard tartar sauce, as she had thought. She relaxed again.

"Umm, Cossack," Molly said, and Boris rose. "Boris now moosh moosh," he said, and hurried off to the kitchen.