Page 13 of Still Me
George finally took pity on me. He spotted me limping and jogged back while Agnes did stretches, her long legs extending like some double-jointed flamingo. “Miss Louisa! You okay there?”
At least, I thought it was him. I could no longer see because of the sweat leaking into my eyes. I stopped, my hands resting on my knees, my chest heaving
“You got a problem? You’re looking a little flushed.”
“Bit... rusty,” I gasped. “Hip... problem.”
“You got an injury? You should have said!”
“Didn’t want to... miss any of it!” I said, wiping my eyes with my hands. It just made them sting more.
“Where is it?”
“Left hip. Fracture. Eight months ago.”
He put his hands on my hip, then moved my left leg backward and forward so that he could feel it rotating. I tried not to wince.
“You know, I don’t think you should do any more today.”
“But I—”
“No, you head on back, Miss Louisa.”
“Oh, if you insist. How disappointing.”
“We’ll meet you at the apartment.” He clapped me on the back so vigorously that I nearly fell onto my face. And then, with a cheery wave, they were gone.
—
“You have fun, Miss Louisa?” said Ashok, as I hobbled in forty-five minutes later. Turned out you could get lost in Central Park after all.
I paused to pull my sweat-soaked T-shirt away from my back. “Marvelous. Loving it.”
When I got into the apartment I discovered that George and Agnes had returned home a full twenty minutes before me.
—
Mr. Gopnik had told me that Agnes’s schedule was busy. Given his wife didn’t have a job, or any offspring, she was in fact the busiest person I had ever met. We had a half-hour for breakfast after George left (there was a table laid for Agnes with an egg-white omelet, some berries and a silver pot of coffee; I bolted down a muffin that Nathan had left for me in the staff kitchen), then we had half an hour in Mr. Gopnik’s study with Mr. Gopnik’s assistant, Michael, penciling in the events Agnes would be attending that week.
Mr. Gopnik’s office was an exercise in studied masculinity: all dark paneled wood and loaded bookshelves. We sat in heavily upholstered chairs around a coffee table. Behind us, Mr. Gopnik’s oversized desk held a series of phones and bound notepads and periodically Michael begged Ilaria for more of her delicious coffee and she complied, saving her smiles for him alone.
We went over the likely contents of a meeting about the Gopniks’ philanthropic foundation, a charity dinner on Wednesday, a memorial lunch and a cocktail reception on Thursday, an art exhibition and concert at the Metropolitan Opera at the Lincoln Center on Friday. “A quiet week, then,” said Michael, peering at his iPad.
Today Agnes’s diary showed she had a hair appointment at ten (these occurred three times a week), a dental appointment (routine cleaning), lunch with a former colleague, and an appointment with an interior decorator. She had a piano lesson at four (these took place twice a week), a spin class at five thirty, and then she would be out to dinner alone with Mr. Gopnik at a restaurant in Midtown. I would finish at six thirty p.m.
The prospect of the day seemed to satisfy Agnes. Or perhaps it was the run. She had changed into indigo jeans and a white shirt, the collar of which revealed a large diamond pendant, and moved in a discreet cloud of perfume. “All looks fine,” she said. “Right. I have to make some calls.” She seemed to expect that I would know where to find her afterward.
“If in doubt, wait in the hall,” whispered Michael as she left. He smiled, the professional veneer briefly gone. “When I started I neverknew where to find them. Our job is to pop up when they think they need us. But not, you know, to stalk them all the way to the bathroom.”
He was probably not much older than I was, but he looked like one of those people who came out of the womb handsome, color-coordinated, and with perfectly polished shoes. I wondered if everyone in New York but me was like this. “How long have you worked here?”
“Just over a year. They had to let go their old social secretary because...” He paused, seeming briefly uncomfortable. “Well, fresh start and all that. And then after a while they decided it didn’t work having one assistant for two of them. That’s where you come in. So hello!” He held out his hand.
I shook it. “You like it here?”
“I love it. I never know who I’m more in love with, him or her.” He grinned. “He’s just the smartest. And so handsome. And she’s a doll.”
“Do you run with them?”
