Kholodov's Last Mistress by Kate Hewitt

She’d had a lot of certainties ripped away from her, starting with the most basic: that Sergei had been interested in her at all.
    Forcing her mind away from the memories, she turned to Lisa with as cheerful a smile as she could muster. ‘Anyway, you shouldn’t be telling me to sell! This is your livelihood too, you know.’
    Lisa smiled wryly. ‘I’m hardly making millions selling a few sweaters, Hannah. And I want to see you happy.’
    ‘I am happy.’ The response was automatic, instinctive, and also a lie. She wasn’t happy. Not the way she’d once been, or at least thought she’d been.
Annoyingly optimistic.
She wondered if she even knew how to be that kind of happy again, if such a thing were possible.
    Or maybe she’d just grown up.
    ‘I should go,’ Lisa said as she buttoned up her coat once more. ‘Dave has a job interview this afternoon and I want to be home when he gets back.’
    ‘I hope it went well.’ Lisa’s husband had been on several job interviews, and none of them had panned out yet. They’d been surviving on Lisa’s income and what temporary work Dave could get.
    ‘Hope springs eternal,’ Lisa said with a smile. She laid a comforting hand on Hannah’s shoulder. ‘Take care of yourself, sweetie. And think about it.’
    Hannah just nodded, her gaze sliding away from Lisa because she knew her friend saw too much. She didn’t want to make promises she couldn’t keep, wasn’t ready even to think about. She couldn’t sell the shop. Even the thought still felt like a betrayal.
    You are thinking about selling this shop. You need to have your own dream.
    Hannah let out a groan of frustration, annoyed at herself for still thinking about Sergei Kholodov. Still remembering just about every word he’d said. It had been over a year since the night they’d had dinner, since they’d kissed. A kiss she couldn’t forget, a kiss that lived on in her dreams and left her restless, awakened by aching and unfulfilled desire.
    She shoved the account books into a drawer, determined to think about it later.
But when?
The question was a near-constant refrain. For the last year she’d been focused on keeping the shop afloat, trying what new initiatives and merchandise she could afford, but nothing was enough. The mortgage on the shop and house were paid, and she made enough to live a frugal, meagre existence, but that was all the income from the shop provided. One bad season, an unforeseen repair or accident … bankruptcy and destitution hovered just a breath away.
    The string of bells on the door jingled again, and Hannah turned with a ready if rather weary smile for a customer. She felt the smile freeze on her face as she took in the dark-suitedfigure standing so incongruously in the doorway of the cosy craft shop. It was Sergei.
    She was the same. Exactly the same. Sergei felt a fierce rush of something close to joy—mingled with relief—at the sight of Hannah standing there, her hair tousled about her face, the sunlight catching its glinting strands, her eyes as wide and violet as he remembered. Smiling. Always smiling. Perhaps she was actually glad to see him.
    After Grigori had done some digging and confirmed that Hannah still lived in Hadley Springs, still had her little shop, Sergei had hired a car and driven all afternoon to get here. He’d cruised down the one main street, noticing the dilapidated diner, the for-rent signs in blank-faced shop windows. The only stores doing a decent business were a discount warehouse and a garage that sold tractor parts. And Hannah’s shop. No wonder it was struggling. Housed in an old weathered barn on the edge of the tiny town, the paint was flaking, the sign barely discernible. Inside it was a little better, with cubbyholes filled with bright wool and stacks of sweaters, but Hadley Springs was hardly a tourist spot. It was small and shabby and depressing and even though he was glad—too glad—to see her, Sergei was half amazed that Hannah was still