Five yards from the door, and looking right at me, stands a little girl in a pretty pink dress, her dark hair gathered in pigtails at the top of her head. She can’t be more than three or maybe four, and she’s the spitting image of Mikhail. “Hello,” she says, her face serious, and cocks her head to the side as she regards me with interest. “Lenochka . . .” Mikhail says from behind me and steps inside. “Daddy!” The girl squeals in delight, her lips widening in a huge grin as she runs and jumps into Mikhail’s arms.
