Page 80 of The Quiet Tenant

But could it be?

She follows your confused stare.

“Sorry,” you say. “It’s just—your necklace. It’s…it’s so pretty.”

She smiles. “Thanks so much,” she says, and she lifts it up to give you a better look.

It’s a silver infinity symbol dangling from a chain.

You know that chain.

It’s the same delicate chain you wore the day he took you.

Wallet? Phone?he said. Then:Gun? Pepper spray? Knife? I’m going to check, and if I find out you lied to me, I won’t be happy.

You told him the truth. Nothing in your pockets, nothing up your sleeves.

Jewelry?

Just what I’m wearing,you told him.

Julie bought you the necklace for your nineteenth birthday. She used to make fun of your fascination with the little blue boxes, thewhite ribbons. So girly, so basic. It didn’t match the rest of your personality.There’s just one thing,she said as you unwrapped it.I couldn’t let you walk around looking like an extra fromThe Hills. So I added a little something.

She fiddled with the chain to reveal an extra trinket—a pink quartz in a silver casing, which she had somehow attached to the infinity symbol.

It’s so great,you told her.I love it. You’re such a good friend.

I know,she said.

You wore the necklace every day until he took it from you.

And now it’s here.

Your necklace—unique, the only bespoke piece of jewelry you have ever owned—has found you again.

Emily releases the pendant. It lands at the base of her neck with a delicate thud.

You force yourself to swallow.

“Really nice,” you tell her in what you hope passes for a casual tone. “Where did you get it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She smiles. Is she blushing? “Oh,” she says. “It was a gift. From a…friend.”

Her cheeks are flushed, glistening. She opens her coat. “Sorry,” she says, fanning her face with her hand. “You know how it goes. You bundle up and you’re still cold outside, but the minute you step inside, you’re boiling.”

Actually, I don’t know,you want to say.It’s been five years since I’ve had a good coat. Ask your friend—he’ll tell you all about it.

She considers you. She wants things from you that you cannot give her. Conversation, small talk. Answers.

“So,” she asks. “When did you say you got here?”

I didn’t,you think. You try to figure it out—what would he like you to say? What answer will keep you out of trouble?

“Oh, just the other day,” you tell her.

Her smile pinches. You are frustrating her. You are in this man’s house. Incongruous, stupid. And she can’t get anything out of you.

You are sorry. You are so sorry. You want to fall into her arms and tell her everything. You want to tell her that it’s not—really, really not—what she thinks.

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