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After his indentured servitude at HP—which lasted the five years it took the company to come through with the promised green card—Grisha quit and promptly got himself hired for twice as much, as a quant at Morgan Stanley, building market models for mortgage traders. Whatever envy his fast climb had stirred in the hearts of others, to hear Grisha Arsenyev talk one might guess that immigrating had turned out to be the great anticlimax of his life.
At the get-togethers that Lera and Grisha attended, Lera would often see her husband off in a corner, rattling his drink and talking with someone about the moribund state of American culture, the absence of any real spirituality here. So it surprised only a few when Grisha started travelling back, seeing old friends and making new ones, looking for his own golden formula. Fate, he said, had chosen a better path for him in his homeland.
He was staying in Moscow to look for financiers for a business idea that would do for the Russian market what mortgage traders had done on Wall Street since the eighties: pool and repackage loans for investors in one massive turbine of debt and capital.
He would build not only wealth for himself but a better life for the doctors and schoolteachers in distant provinces, still living in run-down, vermin-infested apartments and dreaming of raising their kids in solid houses, if only Russia could grow a robust mortgage industry. Within three months, Lera had sold the Dobbs Ferry house with its view of the Hudson.
