“I got a membership a while ago,” he chuckles. “And we gotta stop meeting like this.”
“You’re telling me.”
Rohan looks odd without his museum barista apron, standing in my place of worship in a tan v-neck and gym shorts. Like work followed me into my personal life.
He takes me in as well, cheekily gesturing to my sweat-soaked body and the emptying class behind me. “They turn on the fire sprinklers in there or something?”
I swat him with my yoga mat and laugh. “No! You try hot yoga and see if you come out looking any better.”
“No complaints here.” He makes a show of checking me out. “You always look great in pink.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help grinning as I walk backward. “Still too old for you, Rohan. Anyways, I’ve gotta get home.” I point my yoga mat at him. “Hot yoga. Challenge extended.”
“Challenge accepted.” He salutes, then disappears around the corner.
Chuckling, I stride to the front desk right as Levi emerges from the door behind the counter. He still has his outdoor coat over his polo, but he shoots me a friendly smile. Ever since our awkward conversation in the washing machine room, it’s like the tension between us has vanished. I smile back.
“Night shift?” I ask.
“Yup.” Levi gives me a look as if to say“I don’t get paid enough for this.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I say with a laugh as I hand him my yoga mat.
“It’s all good.” He tucks away my mat alongside the rolls of others. “Oh, hey! I saw a social media post about your exhibition coming up! Lookin’ good, art girl.”
I laugh. “Thanks, but it’s not my exhibition. My friend Amantha is the one in charge, I’m just the photographer.”
“Well, it’s pretty cool.”
“I have to agree. Hey, you should come!” I say. “The beginning gala is open to the public.”
“Really? I may just have to check it out,” he says.
I tap the counter twice before saying, “Alright, I’m gonna call it a night. Thanks, Levi.”
“Have a good one,” he calls.
After a lengthy shower and a quick bite to eat as a late dinner, I climb into a taxi. The Waterborough community gates were glitching earlier but are now safely sealed shut. I just tell my driver to drop me off by the pedestrian gate.
Shadows warp this way as I cross the cobblestone street and approach my darkened driveway. Mrs. Kovolchuk’s window is lit up despite the late hour, her lonely lamp the only sign of life I can see. Regardless, the night air is making me jumpy. I decide to run to her condo if any chainsaws present themselves.
Clutching my pepper spray, I steal toward my front step. I go to insert my key in the lock, but I catch sight of a cardboard box by my feet.
I don’t remember ordering anything, but maybe Liza did. I stoop to read the label.
There’s no postage. Or writing of any kind.
Paranoia prickles along my neck like watching eyes, and I whip around. Only the looming shadows greet me, bony tree branches stretching across the starry sky.
While it’s unclear who the box is from, one thing is crystal. Whoever left it stood right beside this door, depositing who knows what for Liza or me to find.
Sucking in a deep breath of icy cold air, I chide myself for being such a baby.
The box could be from Mrs. Kovolchuk. Or maybe Mom dropped something off?
I grit my teeth and pry it open. The cardboard gives easily, and amid the darkness sits a wide clamshell jewelry case. I lift the top, cracking it open.
A dainty chain necklace glitters like stars, and although it doesn’t scream luxury, it’s beautiful. It reminds me of one I’ve seen my mother wear. Maybe itisMom’s and Liza asked to borrow it or something? I go to pluck it out when a piece of paper grazes my fingers beneath the velvet mount.
