“You,” she said without thinking, her face heating immediately at the way it sounded to her own ears: a monosyllable that didn’t so much express her disdain as it did her sense of injury, of heart-piercing disappointment. The letter in her hands felt heavy, outsized.
He didn’t respond, other than a slight falter to his smirk, and before she could think of anything else to say, he was moving past her, his arm outstretched, his expression transforming into a full, disarming, totally charming smile, and she almost groaned when she realized he’d known exactly where to aim it for maximum tension-diffusing effect.
“Hi,” he said to Mrs. Salas, offering his hand. “I’m Will Sterling.”
“Oh my,” she said, taking it.General Hospitalwas her favorite show.
“You must’ve been hearing about me,” he said, with a self-deprecating chuckle. He’d somehow managed to shape his body toward her, a curve in his spine that Nora could tell was natural to him, a bedside-manner bend that reminded her of the care workers who’d come at the very end for Nonna.
When he shifted to Mr. Salas, he both maintained it and made it look different; he said, “Hey, I’m Will,” and raised his eyebrowsjust soat Mr. Salas’s firm handshake, who might as well have saidOh myhimself for all the flattered surprise he seemed to take in Will’s reaction.
Nora had to concentrate on not rolling her eyes.
He started to move toward Marian and Emily, and Nora finally found her voice. “I’ve pretty much already introduced you, via your letter,” she said, her voice like ice, and it seemed to blow over the room—all at once her neighbors seemed to remember her and themselves, shaking off their distraction at the new arrival.
Will straightened, apparently feeling the chill, and when he looked over at her, the smile dropped from his lips. In the crowded space, he only had to take a step back from the arc of hastily arranged folding chairs to be beside her, so now it was like they were awkward partners in one of those awful group project assignments from school, the ones where you had to get up in front of the whole class and pretend like one of you wasn’t harboring a terrible bitterness about the uneven work distribution.
Nora cleared her throat, determined to demonstrate—however false it was—that she was the prepared one. “We—”
“I don’t intend to cause any of you trouble,” he said, before she could really begin, and when she shot him an annoyed look she saw the way he’d put his hands up, a gentle, deferential surrender that looked obnoxiously earnest. “In fact I feel lucky I came by to find you all here, because I’d like to—”
“You’d like to explain that you’re taking advantage of a loophole?” Nora snapped, holding up his letter.
Marian made a littlehmm!noise, like Nora had scored a point. She would’ve liked to feel encouraged by it, but the way Will turned to Nora—with his eyebrows raised in something like amusement, with his posture still so calm—it made her feel likehewas the one winning. He knew he’d caught her flat-footed on those bylaws.
“Doesn’t strike me as much of a loophole,” he said, shrugging. “There’s no prohibition on owners operating short-term rentals. And I’m an owner.”
If she didn’t dislike him so much, she might’ve winced for him. Boy, he’d stepped in it there, acting like Donny had never existed.
“Listen here,” said Jonah. His voice was commanding, but he also weighed 130 pounds and was pointing at Will with one of his knobby, arthritic hands, so the effect was somewhat dulled. “I don’t think you need to be speaking to her that way. She’s in charge here.”
“Yes, sir,” Will said. “I understand she’s your association president, which is why I wrote to her first. But seeing as all of you have lived here for so much longer—”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marian nearly shouted. “Nora’s been with us for twenty years!”
Even without looking over at him, Nora could feel that Will had turned to look at her. Her whole right side felt hot with his gaze.
For long seconds, no one said a word, and that’s because everyone was waiting for Will to respond. That’s how it worked when it came to Marian Goodnight: if she asked you a question, you answered it, and quick, too. Everyone knew that.
Everyone but Will Sterling.
“I thought you said you moved in last year,” he said, to Nora’s very hot right side.
“Last year!” shouted Jonah. “She lived here when she was in diapers!”
“She never lived here in diapers,” said Mrs. Salas. “You’re thinking of Benny.”
Jonah scratched his head, looked over at Benny, who had, in fact, lived here for a good portion of his childhood. Which was over forty years ago.
“She came when she was nine, Jonah, remember?” said Mr. Salas. “She had a bowl cut.”
Jonah furrowed his thin, white eyebrows, and then he laughed, slapping his knee. “Right! Called her Ringo that first summer.”
Beside him, Benny snorted. “Good thing you grew that out.”
Rightandleft side—all sides, really—now hot with embarrassment. It was a Herculean task not to touch her ponytail, just to reassure herself it was still there. At the moment, she felt about as awkward as she had when she was nine, standing outside with her parents on the hot-concrete cracked sidewalk with a brand-new suitcase and a whole lot of anxiety.
“You’ve lived here since you were nine?” Will said, and this time—it wasn’t quite a golden-hour echo, but it was softer, quieter. She looked his way.
