Nadia’s mother lowered her teacup nervously. It rattled to its place on her plate. “Dear God. Victor Bodnar. I would have thought he was in hell by now. I can’t believe his name is coming out of my daughter’s mouth.”
“I didn’t know who he really was.”
“He’s a thief. A con artist. He makes a living stealing from honest people. How and why did you meet him?”
“It’s complicated. One thing led to another…” Nadia motioned at the photos. “What’s with all the pictures? Why the trip down memory lane all of a sudden?”
Nadia’s mother waited a beat. “I’m looking for the same thing you are.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your father’s brother. Damian. I’m looking for pictures of Damian.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been getting letters from Ukraine from a man claiming to be him.”
Nadia’s mother slid two sheets of faded white paper across the table.