“An old story that you chose to tell, of all the old stories you had to pick from.” She snatched a few jars and pressed them to his stomach, then grabbed a few others. “I’m not certain what that says about you, Zhenya Marin. But perhaps I should be glad you’re leaving.”

It shouldn’t have stung. She was just a grocer’s daughter. Barely more than an acquaintance. “Be fair. I don’t remember many of the tales, not well enough to recite them. I’ve only been telling you the ones I recall clearly.”

“And that is one you remember?”

“Perhaps because of those oddities that have you hissing like a cat.”

She pierced him with a sharp gaze and strode around him, back to the counter. “I don’t think so. I think you favor that one because you like the thought of just taking whatever you want from life.” She smacked her jars onto the countertop. “Perhaps Papa was right about you.”

“Now, wait just a moment.” He followed behind her, though he kept his distance. He wasn’t sure what had her so hot under the collar, but wisdom said to stay out of swinging range. “You have no idea what the Cossack did after that. For all you know, he used his newfound wealth and power to bring health and happiness to everyone in the region. Sharing equally with all.”

“Until they had something he wanted, you mean?” She gathered all the food together and then her hands stilled. “No. I find it very hard to believe that men who would steal and kill innocents to get their way would ever then be so selfless.” She met his gaze and told him the total for the food.

More than she usually would have charged him—though not more than she should have. He drew the bills and coins from his pocket. “Sometimes people have to make a hard choice, you know. For the greater good.”

“And more often people trample the helpless for their own good and just say it is for the sake of others.” She moved to put the cash into the register, leaving him to load up his basket.

“You have a dim view of humanity.” He strove to keep his voice light, though it was difficult with that scowl still in the place of her usual flirtatious grin.

She paused, hand on the register, and looked at him. “I just find it sad that so many people think they can find true happiness by taking. They can’t. We can only ever find it by giving.”

Now she sounded like Matushka. And perhaps Zivon. Evgeni picked up his basket. “Perhaps your father should rethink leaving you in charge of the till.”

Her chin lifted. “Perhaps you should have tried to go to Mass again after that last time.”