He raises his eyebrows, seeming impressed. “What do you think they mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“If you had to guess.”
“The year the Knox was founded.”Or the number of billions of dollars you all have.
“Or what?”
“Or nothing. It’s 1817. And if it’s not, it’s none of my business.”
Peter nods. “Why did you knock on the door at nine fifteen a.m.?”
“Because that was my interview time.”
He pauses for a moment, seeming to reconsider the questionhe wishes to ask. “Did you show up earlier than that time but wait to knock?”
Did he (ortheyif there is a “they”) watch her through the door camera? “Yes, I waited for two minutes.”
“Why?”
Because Boston people are annoyingly early, and she refuses to perpetuate that habit. Taylor recalls how her fellow ER nurses would arrive by half past six in the morning for their seven o’clock shift. The first day of work she showed up at six forty-five, thinking she was early, but was met with dirty looks.
“Because that was my interview time,” she repeats, but this time he nods in affirmation.
“Why did you sit here, out of all the possible seats in this room?”
“I don’t know. It felt right.”
“Do you often do ‘what feels right’?”
With a guilty pang, she recalls the afternoon she spent in Vivian’s apartment. Was that right or wrong? If she hadn’t gone, would she be sitting here right now? She shrugs. “I don’t know. That’s a tough one.”
He leans forward, and a whiff of his cologne hits her: smoky, a hint of sage. “I saw you looking at the painting of the woman on the train, when I came in. Where do you think that woman in the painting is going?” Jutting his chin toward the left, he keeps his eyes trained on Taylor. They are like tiny blue oceans, and she feels they could swallow her whole. She wouldn’t completely mind, she thinks, her heart quickening.
“I don’t think that woman is going anywhere.”
“Go on.”
“I think she’s defined by what is her temporary location. She’s in transit.”
“Go on.”
“Sheisthe transit. She’s just existing.”
“Taylor Adams, why do you want to work here?”
His stare makes her feel raw and heady. She breaks her gaze.
Why does she want to work here?
Vivian. Her mom. Truth. Money. Opportunity. This man in front of her, maybe.
She can feel Peter studying her. Waiting.
How was Vivian involved with the Knox? How was Taylor’s mom? What really happened to Vivian, and where is she now? Did she mysteriously disappear from the hospital, or did it just seem that way from Taylor’s perspective? What if the answers to these questions are somehow here, in the Knox?
And what if, by working here, Taylor can find what she’s searching for, even if she doesn’t know exactly what that is?
