Nora stifled a laugh. Secret Santa was rarely a secret in this building. Plus that pillow hadThere’s No Place Like Homeembroidered on it. It could only have come from Mrs. Salas.
“Oh,” said Benny quickly, bending down again. “I guess I grabbed the wrong—”
Mrs. Salas interrupted him with a heavy sigh and a hand on his arm. “Never mind. We’re keeping everything in the bins. I didn’t spend forty-five minutes arguing with my husband so he could come back down and try to get this silly helicopter out of here.”
The silly helicopter—remote operated, lots of “horsepower,” according to Mr. Salas—was probably the item in the boxes that would fetch the most money. But Nora definitely wasn’t going to say that, especially because if he’d given it up he was probably right now upstairs in his workroom building something that Mrs. Salas would find even more annoying.
Nora let her eyes pass away from Nonna’s lamp, onto the other gathered items she and her neighbors had brought down. The solidarity—and she had a feeling that’s what this was—helped. This was fine! That wasn’t even one of Nonna’s favorite lamps, even if it had been from Italy.
Behind her, she could hear Marian’s muffled raised voice inside the building, and within a minute she too was crossing the yard, shaking her head. “Third time I’ve shouted up those steps,” she said, annoyed. “I know he’s up there on his computer!”
“Oh, he’s met someonenew,” said Mrs. Salas. “She lives in St. Louis! I don’t really approve of that.”
“Didn’t even meet her on an app,” said Benny. “They went to high school together.”
“Ooooh, what now?” Mrs. Salas said, and Marian rolled her eyes, but she also definitely tuned right in.
Nora might’ve joined in the gossip—she did like a good story about Jonah’s dating life—but almost as soon as Benny started to answer, her attention was pulled away by the familiar sound of gravel popping down the alley. When she looked up, she saw Will’s car pulling in to the spot for his apartment, vacated only yesterday by his first tenant.
Her stomach flipped in anticipation, and she pretended to rearrange items in the boxes so she wouldn’t get caught staring.
“Dr. Sterling is here!” called Mrs. Salas, waving at Will as he got out of his car. “Nora, did you know he was coming today?”
Nora straightened again, her face flushing. “I think he’s got someone new coming Monday,” she said, noncommittal, because shedidknow he would be coming.I’ll sneak up after I’m done, he’d said late the other night, whispering this promise against her skin.I want to see you before you go on your trip.
She hadn’t so much agreed as she had distracted him, letting her own lips move across his skin, making a set of promises to herself. Will Sterling was someone she wanted to choose for herself, and she was going to tell him so. No more secrets, no more limits, no more projects that she could take care of herself.
Tonight, she was going to tell him.
“I hope it’s not a man,” said Marian, and Benny nodded solemnly.
When Will came over, he was holding a bucket filled with a new roll of paper towels and some extra cleaning supplies, his smile in that easy, charming register that Nora had come to recognize not so much as false but asparticular. Public-facing, practiced. It wasn’t her favorite expression of Will’s, but it delighted her that she could read it so well.
“Well, now,” he said, looking over the assembled boxes. “What’s been happening here?”
“Nora’s got us doing a charity drive,” Benny said, and Will looked to her, his public smile transforming, briefly, into something private.
“Have you come here to clean your apartment all byyourself?” said Mrs. Salas, obviously impressed.
Marian clucked her tongue, because she did not approve of grade inflation in any form.
“Sure am. Took the day off.”
For this, Nora sent back her own private smile, an acknowledgment of Will having taken it a bit easier the last few weeks, not doing extra clinic shifts on his days off from the hospital.
“You won’t need the whole day,” said Marian. “That woman and her child, they were tidy people. Emily and I went in there twice, you know.”
Will looked at Marian. “Is that right?”
Mrs. Salas answered for her. “Oh, I went in there once, too! The daughter, she’s quite the young baker! Probably you’ll want to spend extra time on that oven.”
“Of course,” Marian said, “we told them they could come back for the next poetry night.”
Will nodded seriously. “Of course.”
But Nora could tell he was . . . proud, maybe. Proud and relieved, to get this tentative seal of approval from her neighbors. Suddenly she wondered if she’d even bother waiting until tonight to tell him. Maybe she’d follow him right into his apartment and tell him in the bright light of day, windows open. Who cared who heard it?
“Oh, here’s the beanpole,” came Jonah’s voice behind her. “I’ve got a bone to pick with you, now.”
