26 October Simon arrived with bread, flowers and a question about where shoes were meant to go. “On your feet, usually,” Willa told him. Maren shut the apartment door before he could make the mistake of apologizing to a six-year-old for wanting an instruction. “By the mat is fine.” He looked at her over Willa’s …
24 October At six fifty-eight Maren stood outside the restaurant and discovered that the useful thing about being early was having time to become much more nervous. She had left Willa eating pasta with the paid sitter from their school block. Her daughter had inspected the green dress, asked whether Simon was going to wear …
20 October Willa took the phone into the bathroom because the princess needed an entrance. “Leave the door open,” Maren called. “It is open. The little door.” “The bathroom door.” An irritated hand appeared around it. Maren heard Blake say something, then the peculiar rattling voice Willa used for a horse. She stood at the …
17 October The little red door opened halfway and refused to go farther. Simon crouched in front of it. Maren, sitting on the floor with her legs folded beneath her, could see him trying not to apply force. “It’s listening,” she said. “To what?” “Your opinion of it.” “My opinion is currently unfavorable.” The prototype …
15 October The hotel doorman opened the door before Maren had decided how to approach it. That was ridiculous. She knew how to walk into a building. Yet the black dress, the good shoes and the fact that she was carrying no tools had made an ordinary entrance feel like a question she might answer …
13 October Willa stopped just inside the flagship and tightened her hand around Maren’s. “Is it open?” “Not yet. That’s why we can look around.” “There’s no people.” “There are people working. We stay in the part I showed you.” The temporary wall separated the work floor from the quiet front area, where Maren had …
11 October On Sunday morning Willa wanted to know whether her father knew her favorite color. “I don’t think I told him,” Maren said. “Did you tell him my name?” “Yes.” “And the birthday?” “Yes.” “You should have told him green.” Maren looked down at the three sweaters she had put on the bed. She …
10 October Blake called at nine fifty-eight, while Willa was looking for a sock she had decided was a rabbit. Maren let the phone ring long enough to close the kitchen door. She had asked for a morning conversation; she had no reason to be surprised that it was happening. Nevertheless, when she answered, her …
9 October Blake stood when she reached the table. For a moment Maren remembered how easy he had once made the beginning of an evening. “Before we talk about anything else,” she said, “you have a daughter.” His hand remained on the back of his chair. She had imagined saying it while they were both …
8 October At seven in the evening, Simon Vale’s head floated over a taxi. Maren had been trying to judge a sight line from across the street. The store lights behind him threw his reflection onto the angled window so that his broad face hovered, enormous and solemn, above the traffic. He raised a hand …
