Page 35 of The New Couple in 5B

Xavier steps on looking freshly shaved, stylish in a long black coat and checkered scarf.

“Good morning, Rosie,” he says with a little bow. Does he give Abi a look? “Abi.”

His cologne is light and pleasant, but I notice when he steps on and the door closes, how small the elevator is. He glances down at the box at my feet.

“How’s the research going?” he asks.

I smile. “It’s—going.”

He offers a polite nod. I breathe a sigh of relief when the elevator opens and we step out into the lobby, Abi hefting the box and Xavier opening the door for all of us. Abi goes to the curb to hail a cab. And I’m surprised when Xavier leans in close, lowering his voice.

“I could tell you a thing or two about the Windermere,” he says. There’s something strange about his gaze, his tone. He seems a little glassy—his tone almost ominous.

The air is growing cooler and the leaves on the trees in the sidewalk and on the median are starting to turn. When I look at him again, he’s smiling. Whatever darkness I imagined is gone.

“Can we get together? For coffee?” I suggest. “I’d love to hear what you know.”

“Yes,” he says. “Let’s do that. See you tonight?”

Oh, game night. Right.

“I think so. Yes, I’ll be there.”

Then he’s striding off down the sidewalk, hands in pockets. I watch until Abi calls for me. He’s hailed a cab.

As I climb in, the driver opens the trunk from the front seat, and Abi loads the box, then shuts the trunk, giving the cab a knock to indicate it’s time to go.

“Have a good day, Ms. Lowan.”

“Thanks so much. You, too!” I call as the cab pulls away. He waves happily.

Had we been in the East Village, I would have had to haul the box down five flights of stairs, put it down on the curb while I hailed a cab, hefted it into the trunk myself. I could get used to this maybe, even with all the game nights and doorman chitchat, this new uptown life.

I’m thinking on my encounter with Xavier, when I get a text from Chad.

You know what? I think that went well. I’m excited. Maybe the good luck charm worked.

I flash on the tiny hand with the eye in its palm. And I feel that little twinge of what—fear? Yes, it’s fear. Anxiety.

Yay!I type anyway.

Heading to the theater for some big meeting about changes to the set. And I’ll be late tonight—drinks with Ron after the performance. You going to game night tonight?

Maybe.

It’ll be good for you. You can ask Ella all your questions.

We’ll see.

Don’t be a hermit. See you tonight.

My finger hovers over the screen keyboard. Should I tell him about Dana?

But it seems like too much to text, and then the cab is pulling in front of the restaurant. I stow my phone, pay the driver and ask him to pop the trunk again, which he does.

But when I walk behind and peer inside, my stomach bottoms out with surprise. The trunk is pristinely clean and empty except for the spare tire.

Dana’s box is gone.

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