“But are you good? Because you seem . . . different since we got here. Or maybe just for the last few days, since we found out about what happened here.”
“Different how? You’ve barely seen me.”
He hesitates. “Right. You’re right. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the one who’s not good. I keep telling myself what I told the girls—that it doesn’t matter what happened here in the past, to strangers. But we didn’t need this right now, you know? After . . . everything. We just wanted this to be all about positive energy. Healing. Looking forward.”
“That’s what it is, Keith.”
He shrugs.
She shrugs.
He picks up his bag and jacket, walks over, and leans in to kiss her. “I love you. I just want us to be okay again.”
“We are. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Not until late. I have that dinner, remember?”
Right. Dinner with colleagues. “Have a nice time.”
“Yeah, it’s just work.”
Are the words forced? Is his smile forced?
Is it really just work?
A year ago, six months ago, doubt wouldn’t have entered her mind.
“Oh, and Nora?” Keith turns back in the doorway. “Thanks for doing this for me. The move. Everything.”
For him.
She holds a smile until he goes. Then she sinks onto the edge of the bed, hands clenched, remembering the July afternoon when he’d called to tell her about the job relocation.
“Where’s the new office?” she’d asked.
“New York.”
“New York!”
“I know. There’s no way. We can’t move across the country, even if it’s just for a year.”
But then he admitted Cooper hadn’t given him a choice. His only option was to look for a new job on the West Coast, and that could easily have taken a year. He’d suggested going alone—flying back and forth every couple of weekends, with Nora and the girls visiting on school breaks, but she pointed out that would be more disruptive for everyone than a clean break.
“It’s a year,” she said. “We’ll get it over with and then we’ll come home. Or . . .”
“Or . . . what?”
“Maybe we’ll want to stay. Who knows? Maybe we’ll love it.”
“Nora, trust me, you won’t love New York. You’ve only been there a handful of times, as a tourist, to sightsee, take in a show, eat in nice restaurants, stay in luxury hotels. You’ve never lived there. Living there is . . . it’s not the same thing. Not cushy, like your life in LA.”
“Who says I need cushy? And neither do the girls. It’ll be an adventure. It’ll be good for us.”
Had she really believed it then? Does she believe it now?
She waits until Keith and the girls have left for school and work to emerge from the bedroom, phone in hand. As she descends the stairs, Kato trots in from the living room and shoots her a reproachful look. At least, that’s how it seems; how it’s seemed all week. Like he knows.
“But you don’t,” she informs him. “Come on. You want to eat?”
His ears perk up, and he follows her to the kitchen. She dumps food in a bowl for him and sets it on the floor. Then she surveys the scattering of toast crumbs and coffee grounds on the counter, along with a few stray items one of the girls unloaded from the dishwasher and left for her to put away.
If you don’t know where something belongs, don’t guess, she’s told them many times. I don’t like things out of order.
She learned long ago to control the few things she can in this world.
Ordinarily, she wouldn’t bypass the kitchen without tidying it, but late yesterday afternoon, a call had popped up on her phone from an unknown number. Nora answered and heard static, then Teddy’s voice in distant snatches before the call dropped.
Frustrating, but typical.
As a naturalist studying climate change, Teddy frequently travels to far-flung places. They’d last connected by phone almost two weeks ago, when they were both busy packing—Nora for New York, Teddy for an expedition deep into a South American rain forest. The conversation had been bittersweet.
“I wish I weren’t going to be out of touch now, of all times, Nora. This move is going to be so hard on you. I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“I know you don’t, but I have to do this.”
“Just leave me messages and let me know how you are, my love. I worry.”
With good reason.
On the heels of her latest tense discussion with Keith, Nora is uncomfortable calling Teddy from inside the house.
The other day, he’d suggested a surveillance system, then told her to forget he’d said it. But she hasn’t forgotten. What if he’d gone ahead and installed cameras without her knowledge? What if he can see and hear everything that happens in this house when she’s alone here?
Careful, Nora . . . Careful who you trust . . . You know better than anyone . . .
She steps out the back door with her phone. Autumn is in the air. A cool wind stirs foliage that bears the first hints of tawny undertone.
She dials. It rings just once, and then, “Hello? Nora?”
“Yes. Oh, Teddy . . .” She pauses to regain her composure. “I’m so glad to hear your voice.”
“We just got back to base camp last night. I’ve been thinking about you nonstop, worrying. How’s it going so far?”
“It was so good, and then . . . Keith and the girls found out, Teddy. About the murders.”
Stacey
Standing on the subway platform as a southbound train approaches the station, Stacey checks her watch, and then her phone. It’s too soon for this train to be Lennon’s. Only a minute has passed since he’d texted Pulling into stop before yours. In front car. See you in 5.
She steps back against the wall as people around her press forward to board. It’s only been a few days, but the rhythm of subway ridership resonates with her like a familiar song.
The doors glide open. There are announcements. Those waiting to board are asked to stand aside to let passengers off, to be aware of the gap between the platform and the train, to move all the way into the car.
The doors glide closed. The train roars away and the people who disembarked disappear through the exit turnstiles at the opposite end of the platform, leaving Stacey alone.
She pushes her hands deep into the pockets of her army coat. She can hear distant rumbling along the tracks and a hollow drip of water somewhere in the tunnel.
She checks the time again.
Three minutes.
Already, other passengers are trickling in to align themselves along the platform, because you can’t be alone in public for very long in this city. That’s a good thing, and a bad thing, depending on the circumstances.
She’s developed a sense of who’s harmless and who isn’t, giving a wide berth to potential perverts, beggars, and psychos.
She stares at a now familiar If you see something, say something sign. She’s come a long way in the week since they arrived in New York.
Really, in a few short days. So much has happened since she ran into Lennon at Edgemont Grind on Tuesday afternoon.
That night, he’d texted her, as he’d promised.
Ready to walk the dog in the park? I can meet you.
She’d hesitated.
Is it safe at night?