The outer door clicked behind her, and Ellie skipped the elevator to trudge the three flights to her apartment, taking exercise where she could. Meg-next-door meant a real incursion into her privacy, she realized, as she clicked open her own front door.
Comings and goings and visitors could hardly be concealed. And Meg seemed like the type to snoop. Always trying to help, asking questions. And who would leave cookies? It was almost creepy. Stalkery. But again, maybe Ellie was being unfair. Maybe that’s what neighbors did.
Blinker padded into the room, holding something in her mouth. Ellie swore the cat spent her days moving her toys from one room to another: stuffed mice with shredded tails and missing ears, a plush hedgehog with chewed feet, a frondy felt carrot that she sometimes slept with, her paws wrapped around the thin orange cone.
“Whatchagot, cat?” Ellie opened the closet door to dump her coat.
The cat placed a crocheted white dove at her feet. Ellie picked it up between thumb and forefinger, examining it. Its nubby white form fit into Ellie’s palm, and it was pretty enough, with fluttery wings and a cat-enticing tail, but its cross-stitched eyes gave it a disturbingly flat expression. Like the bird was supposed to be dead.
Ellie had never seen it before. “Where’d you get the weird bird, honey cat?” she asked. But Blinker just curled through her legs and didn’t answer.
The knock on the door startled her so much she dropped the thing. Blinker grabbed it and scampered away.
“Get a grip, woman,” Ellie muttered. She looked through the peephole. Sighed with the recognition of a situation. Pushed her glasses higher on her nose.
“Hi, Meg,” she said as she opened the door, trying to hide her reluctance.
Meg raised her right hand. “I swear, I’m not coming in,” she said. She wore a Life is Good T-shirt, jeans and flip-flops. Her toes were painted pale blue, and the polish looked wet. “I’m sure you have plans. Only wanted to make sure—without Warren around—that you were okay with this. With me being the assistant producer. I know it kinda got sprung on you. But I know what I’m doing. I promise.”
“Sure.” Ellie kept her arm blocking the door. “Grateful for your help when you have time. The other reporters will keep you busy too. When they get here. So—”
She saw Meg try to peer over her shoulder and into her living room. The woman’s very existence made everything ridiculously complicated. Meg could easily know if anyone else were in Ellie’s apartment. Not to mention know when she was and wasn’t home. Just what Ellie needed, a human surveillance system.
“Cool,” Meg said.
They stood there, silent for a beat. The elevator rumbled behind them. Just three apartments on this floor. Three-C was empty, far as Ellie knew.
Which reminded her. “How come you didn’t tell me last night? About Channel Eleven? How’d you even get hired? You acted like you didn’t know I worked at the station, and you even said—I mean, I asked you. Didn’t I?” She tried to remember. Sometimes her memory went iffy.
Meg laced her fingers under her chin, made a wincing face. “A family friend wrangled me the job,” she said. “They know the station owner. And I’d promised not to tell, until all the t’s and i’s on the paperwork were crossed and dotted.” She shrugged. “Human resources red tape, I guess.”
So you lied, Ellie didn’t say. Although, to be fair, Meg hadn’t done anything last night but sit by her boxes. Ellie had invited her in, unbidden, when she could have simply said hello, gone inside and closed the door. If Ellie had already been home, they might not have met. It wasn’t like Meg had orchestrated their meeting. Ellie herself had encouraged it.
“I see. Huh. How’d you wind up living here, though?” Ellie took a step into the hallway, half closing her door behind her. “Here, particularly?”
“Warren,” Meg said. “He set you up here too, right?”
“Yeah, true.” Channel 11 was stashing some of its new hires in the building, short-term, even had a designated super to handle all the comings and goings.
“Warren also said you were in the midst of an investigation. A good one?”
“I wouldn’t say ‘midst.’” How transparently nosy could anyone be? Ellie took a step back into her apartment, signaling the conversation’s end. “I’d say beginning. I’m at the library a lot. Too early to talk about. Anyway, so—”
In a flash of white, Blinker raced out the open door, became a blurry streak headed into the hall. Dumb cat. There was nowhere to go. But it was her life’s ambition to escape.
“Cat!” Ellie called.
“I’ll grab her!” Meg scooped her up with one swift motion. “Did you get the bird, by the way?” she asked, handing Blink back.
“That was from you?” Blinker squirmed out of Ellie’s arms, racing back into the apartment.
“I put it through your mail slot.” Meg pointed at the door. “My goal is to be an investigative reporter, just like you. But I make animal toys, little crafty ones, in my spare time. Weird, I know, but we all need a hobby. Crafts and cookies. Wild and crazy me. And I thought Blinker might be lonely.”
“Great,” Ellie said. Which she guessed it was. Ellie sure didn’t have any hobbies, not anymore. “Nice of you. And, oh, thanks for the chocolate chip cookies.”
“No problem,” Meg said. “See you around campus.”
As she turned away, finally finally, Ellie began to close the door.
But Meg pivoted, pointing a finger at Ellie. “Hey,” she said, “know what we should do?”
“What?” Ellie tried not to let her impatience show.
“Exchange keys. In case, like, you’re out on some big story, and you need me to feed Blinker? Or some work situation? Or an emergency?”
“Exchange—?”
“I don’t have any, you know, friends here.” Meg’s expression seemed lonely and longing, a solitary newcomer in an unfamiliar apartment hallway in an unfamiliar city.
Ellie felt a twinge of conscience for her own brusque and dismissive attitude. She could be self-centered, she knew that, though she preferred to think of it as determined or driven or focused. But she couldn’t always be alone in the world. No matter what, she still believed that.
“And I’m honored to be working with you,” Meg went on. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Sure,” Ellie said, half agreeing and half hustling Meg out of there. “I’ll get a copy made.” Maybe, she silently added. She needed to shower off the day, get organized and see how on earth she was going to make this work.
CHAPTER 7
NORA
Impossible to say yes. Impossible to say no.
Nora stood in the vestibule of her apartment building, still wearing her coat and shawl. Errands accomplished—drugstore and dry cleaning—she’d planned to forget about the rigors of Pharminex and collapse on her couch, another glamorous Saturday. Pizza for dinner, a good book, and a sleep-late Sunday. But then Guy’s call had come. She clamped her cell phone between her ear and shoulder, frozen with indecision. Finally she lowered the two shopping bags to the floor and hooked the dry cleaning hangers over the mail table.