The suitcase in Adrian’s hallway was not large enough to justify the feeling it gave her. Celia had come to his house on December 11 with a bag for Nell, a small bag for herself and a paper sack containing the good cheese she had found in the market. She had expected to be ridiculous …
Dorothy answered the phone with Celia’s name spoken as a question. For a moment, Celia was back outside their old apartment on an ordinary afternoon, carrying too many shopping bags, with Dorothy calling to ask whether she was eating properly while Quentin was away. There had been years of those calls. Dorothy knew which fruit …
At ten minutes to nine on December 4, Celia put a clean glass on the table, filled it with water, and moved it out of reach of her elbow. Then she moved it back. The place she had chosen for the call faced the kitchen, so that Quentin would not see the bassinet behind her …
On December 2, Celia arrived at the depot with a sleeping baby, a revised route, and no intention of staying to hear Adrian explain himself in front of other people. His voice reached her before she saw him. “We aren’t taking the bus on Thursday.” The little office door stood open. Gavin was inside, his …
Celia sent the email before she put Nell’s clean clothes away. If she began with the laundry, there would be another small task after it and another after that, and by lunch she would have found a reason to wait until Monday. It was November twenty-seventh. Gavin needed an answer today. She wrote to Imogen …
The attachment had Adrian’s name at the bottom and hers in the middle. For several seconds Celia looked at the two names as though they might explain each other. She was at her kitchen table, Nell asleep in the next room, answering the small number of project messages she had agreed to handle before her …
On her actual birthday, Celia had eaten toast over the sink while Nell watched the ceiling with an expression of deep suspicion. Adrian called between meetings and sang four entirely wrong notes before giving up. Ruth delivered flowers in a jug she wanted back. The day was lovely in pieces, but Celia had already arranged …
Adrian asked the question while Celia was trying to get the front door to stay open for the stroller. “Where do you think you’ll be in the spring?” She nudged the rubber wedge with her foot. The door slipped off it and caught the stroller wheel. “Here, probably.” “I meant living.” “Here. Unless the rent …
One of the fox buttons slipped out of its hole as Celia lifted Nell into the car seat. She fastened it again, holding the small wooden face between her fingers while her daughter objected to the delay. “I know. Terrible service.” The red cardigan was still soft, although it had spent years folded in a …
Celia had been inside Adrian’s house before, briefly, to collect a book and once to wait out a downpour. She had not arrived with a small overnight bag, having left Nell in her own apartment with Mara and an arrangement Celia could afford without resenting it. The difference made the front door look much larger. …
