Page 83 of The New Couple in 5B

There’s something odd about the way he says it. He keeps his eyes on me.

“George said you were looking for a package earlier, too.”

He squints, then gives a slow nod. “I was. Bad day for deliveries, I guess.”

“Are you looking for it now?”

“Oh, no,” he says. “I just thought I’d come man the door for a while. Some of the residents are still out.”

I’m about to bid him good-night when I remember the chat forum. I tell him that I was on earlier, just reading up on issues in the building.

“I noticed a chat called ‘Ghosts of the Windermere.’ But it looked like it had been deleted.”

Charles gives a subtle shake of his head. “Now, you don’t believe in ghosts, do you, Rosie?”

“No,” I say with a smile. “But I’m always curious about energies. Or what people think might be ghosts.”

I wonder if he’ll mention Miles, the son he lost. But he doesn’t.

“Is this part of your research?” he asks, taking his seat behind the desk. He rubs at his shoulder as if it’s causing him pain.

“I’m more interested as a resident. Why was the forum deleted?”

“Because it’s silliness,” he says stiffly. “And in this market, we don’t need anything else lowering our property values.”

“You’re not a believer?”

“I wouldn’t say that. I’ve always had a curiosity about themystical, shall we say? But we can’t have potential buyers scared away by the idea that the Windermere is haunted. It isn’t. I assure you.”

I can see we’re not going to get any further with this tonight and I’m late, so I turn toward the door, waving good-night.

“Chad said you’d be meeting him,” he says, rising. “Can I hail you a cab? I hate to think of you out on the street flagging down a cab by yourself.”

I smile at that, the chivalry that smacks up hard against sexism, the attention that’s kind and weirdly controlling, infantilizing all at once.

“I’m good,” I tell him. “Thank you. I think I’ll take the subway.”

“Oh, don’t do that—not in your—” He brings himself up short. And I know in that second that Chad told them. He told Charles and Ella that I’m pregnant, that Ella told Miranda. I feel a wash of anger, betrayal. That this thing that is mine,ours, has been shared and gossiped about.

Gossip can be toxic.

“Good night, Charles,” I say.

I don’t wait for him to answer, just rush out the door and jog down the street.

twenty-four

“How long are you going to stay mad at me?” Chad asks in the cab.

The city rushes by us in strands of light. I’ve been to his performance, the cast party afterward, playing the loving and supportive wife. But by the time we left, I couldn’t contain it any longer. And then we had a big fight on the street outside the theater. We walked it uptown, finally got tired and hailed a cab.

I don’t answer, because I’m not mad. I’m furious.

“Rosie.”

I explode, nearly yelling. “I haven’t eventried it on yet, gotten my head around it, seen a doctor. I wasn’t ready to share this. Not with anyone.”

“You didn’t tellMax?” he asks, as if it’s a foregone conclusion that I did.

---