“So, I’m a great-uncle to two British kids,” Grigori said, musing in a pleased tone. “What are they called? Jane and Bill, perhaps.” The others laughed at the odd sounds of the English names.

“David and Evie,” said Volodya.

“You know, I was supposed to be the one to go to America,” Grigori said. “But at the last minute I had to give my ticket to Lev.” He went into a reminiscence. His family had heard the story before, but they listened again, happy to indulge him on his birthday.

After a moment, Volodya took Dimka aside and said: “How was this morning’s Presidium?”

“They ordered Pliyev not to fire nuclear weapons without specific orders from the Kremlin.”

Volodya grunted disparagingly. “Waste of time.”

Dimka was surprised. “Why?”

“It will make no difference.”

“Are you saying Pliyev will disobey orders?”

“I think any commander would. You haven’t been in battle, have you?” Volodya gave Dimka a searching look with those intense blue eyes. “When you’re under attack, fighting for your life, you defend yourself with any means that come to hand. It’s visceral, you can’t help it. If the Americans invade Cuba, our forces there will throw everything at them, regardless of orders from Moscow.”

“Shit,” said Dimka. All this morning’s efforts had been wasted, if Volodya was right.

Grandfather’s story wound down, and Nina touched Dimka’s arm. “Now might be a good moment.”

Dimka addressed the assembled family. “Now that we have honored my grandfather’s birthday, I have an announcement. Quiet, please.” He waited for the teenagers to stop talking. “I have asked Nina to marry me, and she has accepted.”

They all cheered.

Another round of vodka was poured, but Dimka managed not to drink this one.

Anya kissed Dimka. “Well done, my son,” she said. “She didn’t want to get married—until she met you!”

“Maybe I’ll have great-grandchildren soon!” said Grigori, and he winked broadly at Nina.

Volodya said: “Father, don’t embarrass the poor girl.”

“Embarrass? Rubbish. Nina and I are friends.”

“Don’t worry about that,” said Katerina, who was now drunk. “She’s already pregnant.”

Volodya protested: “Mother!”

Katerina shrugged. “A woman can tell.”

So that was why Grandmother looked Nina up and down so hard when we arrived, Dimka thought. He saw a glance pass between Volodya and Zoya: Volodya raised an eyebrow, Zoya gave a slight nod, and Volodya made a momentary “Oh!” with his mouth.

Anya looked shocked. She said to Nina: “But you told me . . .”

Dimka said: “I know. We thought Nina couldn’t have children. But the doctors were wrong!”

Grigori raised yet another glass. “Hooray for wrong doctors! I want a boy, Nina—a great-grandson to carry on the Peshkov-Dvorkin line!”

Nina smiled. “I’ll do my best, Grigori Sergeivitch.”

Anya still looked troubled. “The doctors made a mistake?”

“You know doctors, they never admit to mistakes,” said Nina. “They say it’s a miracle.”

“I just hope I live to see my great-grandchild,” said Grigori. “Damn the Americans to hell.” He drank.