“We’ve got her,” the PI says. “Someone called in about the ad.” Anna watches Nathan wave a final time and close the front door.
It’s Marion’s current employer who replied. It seems Marion has kept up her bad habit of taking what does not belong to her, and so this employer would like a face-to-face meeting. Anna wholeheartedly agrees, and is looking forward to working with this new employer. When she gets the address of the midtown penthouse, she asks the PI, “What was Marion doing there?” The PI replies, “The woman wouldn’t say. She sounded Russian.”
A van honks at Anna, who is double-parked and blocking the street. She gives the van the finger.
“And Marion is still working there? They have an address?”
“They were kind of cagey about that. I think so.”
The van driver leans on the horn, and Anna attempts to finish the phone call with the investigator. She compliments him on a job well done.
He says, “One more thing. Did you know the Palms are tapped out?”
“Marion and Nathan?”
“No, the whole family. The trust. It never recovered from the recession. So, the reward. I get a ten percent finder’s fee, right?”
The van is able to inch around Anna’s car but still knocks off her right side mirror. It speeds away. Anna hangs up on the PI, grips the steering wheel, and attempts to scream in frustration. What comes out is a high-pitched but soft vowel sound.
Inside the brownstone, Nathan is plating spaghetti Bolognese with an arugula salad and focaccia he baked from scratch. His delinquent daughters sit at the table, and Nathan places the plates in front of them. He grates Parmesan onto the plates. Ginny picks up her fork, but Nathan says, “Wait.” He takes pictures of the food. He says, “Go ahead,” and Ginny and Jane begin to eat, and Nathan continues to take pictures. “Can you smile?” he says. Jane smiles, but Ginny does not. “My soul, Dad,” she says. “What about my soul?”
Nathan takes more and more pictures, because he cannot eat any of the food he prepared. He can’t ingest anything; his heart and stomach won’t permit it. Also, he must keep moving or his daughters will see his deterioration.
Marion in Custody
Sveyta and Marion sip white wine until they finish the bottle, and Sveyta tells Marion she knows. Marion asks Sveyta, “Know what?” Sveyta replies that she knows about the money. Marion looks out the window and asks if there are any blini left, and Sveyta shakes her head. There is a knock on the door.
Sveyta opens the door with curt yet elegant Russian greetings, and a short man with broad shoulders and a buzz cut enters carrying a rolled-up magazine. Sveyta leads him into the kitchen, and says, Eto ona. Marion translates: This is her. The man grunts and sits at the kitchen table and opens the magazine and leafs through a few pages.
“Is he going to take me somewhere?” Marion asks.
“Eventually, but for the time being he’s going to make sure you don’t leave,” Sveyta says. “I have work to do in the morning.” She washes the dishes and says goodnight.
The short man reads his magazine, then stretches out on Sveyta’s white sofa, kicks off his loafers, and begins to snore. Marion leaves the kitchen table and is walking to her bedroom when the man speaks.
“Don’t even think about leaving,” he says. “There is no escape scenario for this situation.”
“Why not?” Marion asks, genuinely wanting an answer.
“It would not be safe,” the man says, and he appears to fall asleep again.
Marion returns to her bedroom and sees that Sveyta has tidied. The skirt was spilling out; her clothes were on the floor. Now the skirt and the clothes are neatly folded on her bed and the suitcase is zipped shut and upright by the door. Marion opens it and finds what she expected. The money is gone. So is the Russian girl’s laptop.
She tucks herself under her blanket. She turns off the light. The cross is back above her bed. The air is humid with the hurricane that didn’t happen. She listens to the short man snore in the living room.
Anna and the Matriarch
The day after the failed hurricane, Anna drives alone into the city. She hasn’t told the board about the Palms’ financial situation, or about the reward money she now owes. She has a certified check in her bag from her personal checking account, but it’s not the whole amount. It’s all she could get her hands on in a day, but she’ll come up with the rest. That’s what she’ll say. And it’s better to handle this reward situation on her own. Better to report that action has been taken, rather than ask for permission. Anna’s learned a lot in her years of service to the school.
It’s occurred to her that this meeting may be pointless. She may find Marion, and the Wing Initiative will still be unfunded. The school will still be missing over $100,000. Anna tells herself that Marion could sort out the taxes, could be of some use. But Anna expected total victory. She has found herself to be, at long last, incompetent.
It’s a shiny tall building next to the park. In spite of her anxiety and depression, Anna is able to sneer at the new construction. This ostentatious wealth is both a relic and a beacon, she believes, of a different New York. The New York she knows and loves is vanishing, being replaced by a mausoleum for the financiers of the world and their pampered families. She enters the cavernous, boring lobby and is directed by a suited doorman to the multiple elevators. She takes one to the twenty-sixth floor, and a well-manicured woman is waiting for her when the doors open.
“Ms. Fisher,” the woman purrs.
“Oh, Anna’s fine.”
“Anna, it is a pleasure to meet you.” The matriarch leads Anna to the open door down the hallway and into the light-filled apartment. Anna is, like everyone else, astonished by the view. This sort of view does not exist for most. She wants to press her nose and her hands against the window and look down at the magnificent stretch of the autumn park. She will never again have this perspective of the park, but when the matriarch gestures to the leather sofa, she obediently sits.