I’m about to extricate myself from this cringe-worthy encounter, but she ends up making the first move.
“I should go up and get settled,” she says, turning to Logan. “And I ordered us a few snacks. They’re going to send them up momentarily.”
“Right, right,” Logan says. “I’ll join you in a minute.” Though he doesn’t look flustered, I know that he is.
“Okay,” she says after a brief hesitation. “See you shortly.”
She strides away, her two-toned hair swinging behind her.
“Thanks for being gracious about this,” Logan says quietly after we’ve heard the elevator ascend.
I shrug. Part of me resents Logan for creating this situation—couldn’t he have just given Lisa a pair of fucking diamond earrings to show his gratitude for her help on the scholarships—but I also feel sorry for him. The dinner tonight and the reception Thursday are a culmination of his yearslong plan to pay tribute to our daughter, to make sure her name lives on, and instead of simply relishing the experience, he’s got to navigate having both his ex-wife and current girlfriend on-site with him.
“What weshouldbe focusing on right now is Halligan,” I tell him. “Making sure he talks to Jack when he’s here and also starts thinking about other suspects.”
“Absolutely. By the way, I also texted you the details for the dinner tonight. Will you need a lift?”
You mean: Do I want to ride over with you and Lisa?
“No, thanks. And Maya isn’t expecting me to say anything tonight, is she?”
Logan shakes his head. “Not unless you want to. I can speak for both of us if you like.”
“Yes, please ... See you later, then.”
I take the stairs to my floor, and after peeling off my coat, I sit in the armchair for a couple of minutes, decompressing. Being around Lisa would be far more tolerable if she weren’t so irritating.
Finally, I dig my phone from my purse, scroll through my contacts, and tap the number for Harry Kronish. He was one of Melanie’s twoapartment mates the year she died, and as far as I know, he’s still living in San Francisco. He’d been out of town at his family home the Friday night of the murder—her other roommate, Jennifer Choi, had been away as well—but he’d rushed back as soon as he heard the news.
Once the police went through everything in the apartment, Harry joined Logan and me in packing up Mel’s belongings, and he also helped us track down extra copies ofThe Muse, which he’d worked on, too. He even wrote to us a few times in the years right afterward. Since last night I’ve had time to consider what I want to say to Harry, and I’m just hoping that the old number I have for him is still one he uses.
The phone rings and rings, not even going to voicemail. I’m about to hang up when a man answers, though—to my dismay—not one who sounds like the Harry I remember.
“Hello?” he asks, his tone wary.
I tell him who I’m looking for and inquire if this is the right number.
“Yup, but it’s a landline, not a cell. And he’s at work right now.”
I give my name and ask if he’d mind providing Harry’s cell number, adding that he used to share an apartment with my daughter.
“Why don’t you give meyournumber, and I’ll have him get in touch.”
I do, half expecting that I might never hear back, but twenty minutes later, Harry calls me.
“Bree,hi,” he says. “My partner just gave me your message.”
His voice sounds deeper, more mature than I remember, and I realize that the image I have of him in my mind—the dark spiky hair, the oversize greatcoat—is probably all wrong now, too.
“Thanks so much for calling back, Harry.”
“I’m just happy you got through to me. Though I’ve had this landline ever since I moved here, I’m finally about to get rid of it.”
“How lucky for me, then. Tell me what you’re up to these days.”
“Still loving the Bay Area. As you might have surmised, I’ve got a boyfriend with the social skills of a stapler—but otherwise he’s a great guy, ridiculously brilliant—and I handle branding and social media fora big apparel company here. Which means I didn’t end up becoming the fabulous writer of my dreams, but it’s a fun job.”
“I’m so glad to hear that, Harry.”
