She’d seen Richard close the blinds before at night—a complicated electronic system on that wall wired his lighting and shades. She jabbed at a button and the recessed overhead lights turned off. It was so gloomy outside that the apartment was plunged into shadows.
She pushed the button again and the bulbs flashed on. She exhaled slowly, then tried another button. This time she managed to do it correctly and the blinds glided down. Even though a doorman was stationed in the lobby, Nellie quickly walked to the front door to check the lock. It was engaged. Richard would never leave her unprotected, no matter how annoyed he might be, she thought.
Nellie took a shower, washing her body with Richard’s citrus-scented L’Occitane soap and shampooing the smell of stale smoke out of her hair. She tilted back her head and closed her eyes to rinse the suds, then shut off the water and wrapped herself in Richard’s robe, thinking of the soft voice on the phone.
The woman had no accent. It was impossible to discern her age.
Nellie opened Richard’s medicine cabinet and took out gel, combing a bit through her damp hair and securing it in a ponytail. She changed into the exercise clothes she kept at the apartment since she occasionally used the gym in the building, then found her crumpled top and leather pants neatly folded on top of a small canvas tote by the foot of the bed. She tucked her belongings into the bag and left the apartment, rattling the door to make sure the lock clicked into place.
As she walked toward the elevator, the only other neighbor on Richard’s floor, Mrs. Keene, stepped out of her apartment, holding the leash of her bichon frise. Whenever they bumped into her in the lobby, Richard pretended he needed to collect his mail or came up with another excuse to avoid her. “She’ll talk you to death if you let her,” Richard had warned.
Nellie suspected she was lonely, so she gave the woman a smile as she pressed the call button for the elevator.
“I’ve been wondering why you haven’t been around lately, dear!”
“Oh, I was just here a few days ago,” Nellie said.
“Well, next time, knock on my door and I’ll have you in for tea.”
“Your dog is adorable.” Nellie gave its puffy white fur a quick stroke. The woman and her dog looked as if they shared a hairstylist, Nellie thought.
“Mr. Fluffles likes you. So, where’s your paramour?”
“Richard had to go to Atlanta for work.”
“Work? On a Sunday?” The dog sniffed Nellie’s shoe. “He’s so busy, isn’t he? Always racing off to catch a plane. I’ve offered to keep an eye on his place while he’s gone, but he said he’d never impose on me. . . . So where are you off to now?”
Lonely and gossipy, Nellie thought. The elevator arrived and Nellie held the door open with her forearm until Mrs. Keene and her dog were safely inside.
“I’m actually going to work, too. I teach at a preschool and I need to clean out my classroom for the end of the year.”
Graduation was tomorrow, and though traditionally teachers sorted through the rooms a few days after the students left, making it something of a party, complete with smuggled-in wine, Nellie needed to do it now because she was leaving for Florida at the end of the week.
Mrs. Keene nodded approvingly. “How lovely. I’m glad Richard found himself a nice young lady. That last one wasn’t very friendly.”
“Oh?”
Mrs. Keene leaned closer. “I saw her talking to Mike, the doorman, just last week. She was quite agitated.”
“She was here?” Richard hadn’t mentioned this.
A glint in Mrs. Keene’s eyes told Nellie how much she was enjoying being the conveyer of such news. “Oh, yes. And she handed Mike a bag—Tiffany’s, I recognized that distinctive blue—and said he should give it back to Richard.”
The elevator doors opened again and Mrs. Keene’s dog lunged toward another neighbor who’d just walked into the building with her pug.
Nellie stepped out into the lobby, which resembled a small art gallery: A large orchid graced the glass table between two low-backed sofas, and the cream-colored walls were enlivened by abstract paintings. Frank, the Sunday doorman with a thick Bronx accent, greeted her. He was her favorite of the white-gloved men who kept watch over the residents of this Upper East Side building.
“Hi, Frank,” Nellie said, grateful to see his wide, gap-toothed smile. She glanced back at Mrs. Keene, who was in animated conversation with another neighbor. It sounded as if Richard’s ex had simply returned something he’d once given her, and that he hadn’t even seen her. Who even knew what was in the bag? Obviously their split had been acrimonious.
Many were, Nellie told herself. Yet she still felt unsettled.
Frank winked at her, then pointed outside. “Looks like it’s gonna rain. Do you have an umbrella, hon?”
“Three of them. Back at my apartment.”
He laughed. “Here, borrow one.” He reached into the brass stand by the door.
“You’re the best.” She extended her left hand to accept it. “Promise I’ll bring it back.”
She noticed him glance at her ring and do a quick double take before he caught himself and looked away. He’d known of their engagement, but Nellie usually twisted the diamond to the inside of her hand so it would be hidden when she walked around the city. Richard had suggested it, reminding her that one couldn’t be too careful.
“Thanks,” she said to Frank, feeling a flush creep over her cheeks. It felt a little ostentatious wearing something that probably cost as much as Frank earned in a year—that cost as much as she made in a year, too.
Did Richard’s ex live nearby? Nellie wondered. Perhaps she’d even passed her on the street.
She didn’t realize she was fidgeting with the release button on the umbrella until it sprang open. Her father’s voice rang through her mind: Don’t ever open an umbrella inside. It’s bad luck.
“Stay dry,” Frank said as Nellie stepped outside into the swollen gray air.
Sam wore her long sleep shirt—the one with WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MESS written in script across the front.
Nellie rustled the paper bag containing poppy-seed bagels with egg, cheddar, bacon, and ketchup—their favorite hangover remedy—in the air. “Good afternoon, sunshine.”
Sam’s sandals from last night were kicked off just inside the front door, followed by her purse, then, a few feet later, her miniskirt. “The trail of Sam,” Nellie joked.
“Hey.” Sam poured coffee into a mug but didn’t turn around to look at her. “What happened to you last night?”
“I went to Richard’s. Too much tequila.”
“Yeah, Marnie said he showed up.” Sam’s tone was curt. “Nice of you to say good-bye.”
“I—” Nellie burst into tears. She’d managed to upset Sam, too.
Sam spun around. “Whoa. What’s going on?”
Nellie shook her head. “Everything.” She choked back a sob. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you I was leaving. . . .”
“Thank you for saying that. I have to admit I was pissed, especially since you showed up late to dinner.”
“I didn’t want to leave, but Sam . . . I kissed Nick.”
“I know. I saw.”
“Yeah, Richard saw, too.” Nellie dried her eyes with a paper napkin. “He was really upset. . . .”
“Did you work it out?”
“Sort of. He had to go to Atlanta this morning, so we didn’t get to talk much. . . . But Sam, this woman called his apartment this morning when I was there alone. She wouldn’t give her name. And then Richard’s neighbor told me his ex came by last week.”
“What? He’s still seeing her?”
“No,” Nellie said quickly. “She just came to return something. She left it with the doorman.”
Sam shrugged. “That sounds innocent enough.”
Nellie hesitated. “But it ended between them months ago. Why is she returning it now?” She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t revealed to Sam that she suspected the item was actually a gift Richard had given his ex when they were together. And if it was from Tiffany’s, it was likely expensive.
Sam took a sip of coffee, then handed the mug to Nellie, who also took a sip. “Why don’t you ask Richard about it?”
“I guess . . . I feel like it shouldn’t bother me.”