I wake to the sound of a ringtone. With one eye open, I pat the coffee table, searching for my phone, but with a start I realize that the sound is actually the doorbell. Since no one except Clarissa knows my exact address, I assume it must be her dropping by to check on me or it’s a door-to-door salesperson.
I struggle up to a sitting position, having no idea how long I’ve been asleep but noticing that the back of my top is damp with perspiration. The doorbell chimes again. I push off the couch and make my way to one of the two narrow windows that frame the front door. It’s not Clarissa on the stoop outside, but rather a pleasant-looking woman in her late thirties or early forties. She must have come to the wrong address, because she doesn’t look like someone about to pitch me on solar panels or better lawn care options.
“Yes?” I say, after opening the door.
The instant our eyes connect, the woman offers me a friendly smile. Her wavy brown hair, ribboned finely with gray in places, is loose around her shoulders, and she’s wearing a midcalf-length floral dress, which she’s paired with blue sandals.
“Hi,” she says. “I’m Gillian Parr. I—hope I’ve come to the right address.”
“Are you interested in renting here at some point?” I say, keeping my tone cordial. Maybe she learned it’s sometimes listed with Airbnb.
I glance over her shoulder and notice she’s pulled her white four-door sedan into the driveway, and there’s a dog sitting in the back seat. As soon as he notices that I’ve spotted him, he sticks his head out the window and rests his chin on the door, a sweet, yearning look in his eyes.
“No, no, I live around here,” she says. “I’m looking for Jamie Larsson.”
I let out a small gasp, shocked by her words. Is she a friend of Jamie’s who hasn’t heard the news? Someone he was dating? But why has she turned up at my rental house to ask me about him?
“Oh god, you haven’t heard,” I say. “Jamie passed away last Saturday night.”
As her eyes widen with distress, one hand flies to her mouth.
“Oh, dear, how awful,” she exclaims. “I guess I should have known something was wrong when he didn’t get back to me.”
“He was a friend of yours?”
“More of an acquaintance. I’m so terribly sorry.”
“Thank you. But I don’t understand. Why did you come here? Did someone tell you that you could find me here?”
Her brow wrinkles. “No, I didn’t know anyone else would be here. I was looking for Jamie himself. This is the address he gave me.”
There are a few seconds when nothing computes, when it feels like she’s presented a riddle that’s impossible for me to solve. And then, seconds later, the truth goes off in my brain with all the force of a firecracker.
Jamie was staying here, in this very house.Thisis the property he started renting not long after we split up, and his death is the reason the house showed up online midweek, seemingly out of the blue. According to Ava, Jamie’s belongings were packed up early in the week, and the owners must have put the house on Airbnb immediately afterward.
I touch a hand to my temple, feeling woozy. I’ve been living in the same house Jamie had stayed in, breathing practically the same air he had before he died.
“Are you okay?” Gillian asks.
“Um, yes, thanks. My name is Kiki Reed, by the way. It’s just a shock. We were a couple once, and I rented this place this week not knowing it was where he’d been staying.”
“Oh dear, thatmustbe a shock,” she says and shakes her head. “I should get out of your hair. Again, I’m so sorry.”
She turns to leave, but I raise my hand, indicating I’d like her to wait.
“What was it you needed?” I ask. “I mean, maybe I could be of help.”
“It’s actually fairly sad,” she says. She glances over her shoulder and then returns her gaze to me. “He was going to take Maverick, the little guy in the car.”
“What?”
“I work at a local animal shelter, and Jamie adopted Maverick from us.”
She’s caught me totally by surprise. When Jamie had told me about Cody dying, he mentioned he’d probably get a new dog, but I had no idea he’d actually gone ahead and done it. But then, I wasn’t part of his life anymore.
“I’m the outreach coordinator,” she continues. “I don’t usually deal directly with adoptions, but since we hadn’t been able to reach Jamie, and I live not far from here, I decided to swing by with Maverick.”
I glance at the car again and see that the dog’s ears have perked up, probably from hearing his name.
