The Crown of the Romanovs

Vienna

After making contact with the ground, the Austrian Airlines plane rolled the wide runway until it was positioned in front of one of the central doors. Once the turbines were stopped, the commander's voice was heard saying first in German and then in English.

“Welcome to Vienna International Airport. Local time is 11:25 a.m. and the outside temperature of fifteen degrees Celsius….”

The passengers filling the airplane, a motley mix of Americans, Austrians and other Europeans, and the usual number of Asians present on all international flights, began to stand up, wake up their children and collect suitcases, laptops, and other luggage from the upper compartments.

Sitting in the aisle seat, the red-haired young man stood up and stretched his long legs after the long flight, then offered his hand to his wife, who was sitting in the window seat.

“Dear, let me help you, I guess you are numb after the trip.

The lady, in obvious aristocratic ways, appreciated the help and stood next to her husband. He lowered the two suitcases that were in the open compartment while the line of passengers in front of them began to walk toward the exit.

"Next time we will travel in first class, I can't stand this tightness." said the woman.

“It is three times more expensive, I think it doesn't make sense on a basically night flight.”

“ It is not so nocturnal, we arrived at eleven in the morning.”

“Because the hour difference. It is five hours later than in New York.”

After crossing they walked up the Migrations area. There the young man asked his wife an unusual question.

“Which passport are you traveling with? Russian?

“No. I have an Austrian passport. Don't forget that I was born precisely in Vienna.”

“Then stand in the preferential row to make it faster.”

“ No, I prefer that we continue together.”

After collecting their suitcases, they left the international zone and entered the spacious central hall of the airport, full of tourists, family members and business contacts.

"You told me that one of your relatives is coming to meet us." Said the man. It was more a question than a statement.

“Yes, my cousin Igor. You met him at our wedding. He is one of thirty relatives who traveled to New York from Europe. Don´t you remember him? He looks like you but fifteen years older. He is also a Fiodorov.”

“Impossible to remember each one of the hundred or more faces that we saw at the wedding.”

At that moment a tall and elegantly dressed man approached them. He was indeed slim but not as thin as the young man and had also reddish hair. He approached with open arms and a wide and friendly smile. He spoke in English with the characteristic German accent.

“Irina dear. Welcome to Vienna.”

The two cousins held each other in a long hug; then the lady separated a bit from him even holding his arms to contemplate his cousin from a certain distance and said.

“You look like when we were young, you have almost no gray hair and you have hardly gained weight.”

Then she suddenly changed the subject and asked.

“Do you remember my husband Thiago? I introduced you at the wedding.”

The man replied with a nice laugh.

“How can I not remember the young man who stole my favorite girlfriend?”

Irina also joined in the laughter and explained to her husband.

“In our childhood and early youth Igor and I fantasized about being boyfriends.”

“Come on, I have my car waiting in the parking lot. I'll drop you off at your hotel.”

Throughout the journey in the luxurious BMW Thiago was dazzled by the daytime landscapes around Vienna as well as by the internal comfort of the car.

After a journey of almost an hour, Igor parked in front of an imposing building exponent of the European belle époque bearing the name of Hotel Imperial.

The bellboys rushed to carry the luggage consisting of four large Irina suitcases and one medium sized suitcase belonging to her husband. The woman and Igor approached the desk while Thiago looked at the luxurious central hall of the hotel. The veteran janitor at the desk immediately recognized Igor.

“Good morning Herr Fiodorov.”

“Good morning Franz. I personally made reservations on behalf of my cousin Irina Fiodorovna and her husband.

“Here I have them” Replied the employee. “With the name of the Ferrari Fiodorov family. The room has been available for two hours.”

Igor thanked the concierge and asked him to give an excellent service to the newcomers.

“Please make their stay a total pleasure. My cousin Irina was born in Vienna and she has not visited us in a long time.”

Then addressing the marriage he said to them.

“ I must now return to my work. Do not forget that I will pick you up at 7:30 pm to have dinner at home. Frau Fiodorov will be delighted to see you again.”

At the indicated time, Igor arrived at the hotel and picked up the travelers, and after a short drive, parked in front of his house. Frederika Fiodorov was waiting for them in the vestibule carefully dressed.

“Do you remember Frederika?”  Irina asked her husband. “She was present at our wedding in New York.”

“Well ... I ... actually ...”

Once again Irina had to come to his aid. She explained to her cousins.

"That day I introduced him to over a hundred people, it is not possible that he remembers them all." After a pause and with a mischievous gesture, she added.

“ Although in truth Thiago is a bed physiognomist. I hope that seeing me every day he will not forget my face.”

The exaggeration was followed by a general laughter.

“Please, come to the dining room.” The housewife replied amused.

The dinner was a complete success. Frederika Fiodorov had an excellent cook and was herself an exquisite pastry chef and had taken great pains to entertain her guests. Christina and Max, the children of the local marriage, monopolized Thiago´s attention because he was more of their age and his exotic South American origin; in this way they crowded the visitor with questions about youth in Argentina, their musical tastes and customs, which the newcomer was not always in a position to answer.

Meanwhile, the homeowners chatted with Irina. As the young people were far away, they did so in French, the language preferred by the Russian aristocracy of all time. At one point Igor said.

“As you already know, Duke Golovkin will make a party in his palace for all the members of our community in Austria next Monday to discuss the subject I told you about when I was in New York.”  He took a glance at Thiago who was with his children. “Are you sure ...?”

“Dear Igor, I trust him as I trust myself. I know well what is at stake here. If I had doubts I would not have married Thiago Ferrari.”

Then looking at Frederika she added.

“More than me having become a Ferrari he is the one who has become a Fiodorov.”

“Well, I'm glad to hear that. In any case, before joining us, he must be approved by the plenary after interviewing him. You know there is a black ball.”

“I have no fear that he will fail. Have I ever disappointed you?”

“Never, I have no doubts about your good judgment when choosing people ... especially a husband.”

Frederika watched the conversation closely. The calm and confident style of her visitor seduced her despite the potential rivalry between all women in the same circle.