Page 78 of The New Couple in 5B

“And that leggy blonde is Jasmine.” Ella puts a musing hand to her necklace. “I’m not sure what she does, truly.”

“She’s an escort,” Xavier whispers as he approaches. He rubs at his neatly trimmed black beard and smiles wolfishly.

“Oh, stop it,” says Ella.

“It’strue,” he says. “She escorts wealthy businessmen to events, dinners, parties. It’s perfectly legitimate.”

“Huh,” I say.

Jasmine rises gracefully from the pouf, gives a bow of thanks. I didn’t hear the rest of their conversation. Her hair is like spun gold, features delicate—high cheekbones and almond-shaped dark eyes, a charming mole by her lip. She moves with the grace and perfect posture of a runway model.

“The money is very,verygood from what I understand,” says Xavier. “And to hear her tell it—she’s quite open about it—there’s no sex involved at all. Unless—”

“Xavier,” chastises Ella, coloring a bit and taking a sip of her drink.

“Unless she wants,” he finishes. “And then the money’s even better.”

We both giggle a little at that until Ella silences us with a disapproving frown.

“Everybody, this is our new neighbor,” she says, raising her voice a little. “The very talented and bestselling author Rosie Lowan. Some of you have met.”

Anna gives me a cool smile and a wave. Oga salutes me. And everyone else offers a chorus ofHi, Rosie!andWelcome!

“Rosie and her husband, Chad, are the most delightful people,” says Charles, who looks to have had more than usual to drink, a bit red in the face, words slurry. “We’re so lucky to have them here at the Windermere.”

Which strikes me as an odd thing to say when we’re only here because Ivan has passed. And then of course the fact that the apartment should have been Dana’s. But maybe I’m just being sensitive. The image of Dana comes back to me again, bringing with it another wave of nausea. The truth is I haven’t felt totally well since my ride out to see Max, that nausea coming and going. I am a bit wobbly. Maybe I’m coming down with something. What did I eat today?

I am about to ask Xavier about the box when Ella loops her arm through mine and ushers me to the pouf.

“Miranda,” says Ella. “Why don’t you do Rosie next?”

“Oh,” I say, lifting a palm. “I don’t want to cut in line.”

“Nonsense,” says Ella, pushing me forward. This is the last thing I want. If I needed my fortune told, I’d call my mother. I remember Chad’s encouragement to call my family, let them know our news. Maybe.

I can’t reasonably refuse to sit with Miranda, so finally, I sink down.

All eyes are on me, the heat of embarrassment coming up to my cheeks. Anna’s searing blue gaze is especially intense. It’s not unkind exactly but has the quality of an inspector looking for fault. I am aware of my shabby appearance, that I need a haircut, that the past few days have taken their toll in the form of dark circles under my eyes.

“Hi, Rosie,” says Miranda. “Lovely to know you. This is a safe space.”

Something about her voice, her words, the warmth of her palms as she takes my hands and I feel some of the tension leave my shoulders. There’s an aroma coming off her that I recognize as sage, smoky and sweet. The other people in the room have gone back to their conversations, the chatter low and easy.

“What is your star sign?” she asks. “Let me guess. You’re a Taurus.”

“That’s right.”

“Dependable, inquisitive, headstrong,” she says with a smile. I offer an assenting nod.

“What’s your birthday?”

“April twenty-sixth.”

“A true bull, then,” she says. “Ruled by Venus, the divine feminine, lover of all things sensual but grounded by your need for stability and security.”

“Fair enough.” Cookie-cutter Taurus. Everybody knows that.

“Big things are happening for Taurus this year, lots of explosive energy in career and family, big changes, tremendous progress toward your goals.”

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