Page 67

But I had been wrong. They were both very nice and welcoming of a stranger. Somehow, his mom had even managed to get me a gift and I was glad that I brought both flowers and wine, thanks to the shops on my street.

“It was really fun,” I answered.

“I can tell by how you’re smiling. And now, because everything is so ‘safe’ here, you’re staying at Oliver’s house.”

“How did you know that?” I wondered.

“Word gets around,” she said. “What did he give you for Christmas?”

“A new yoga mat, a really nice one.”

“Oh, the romance.” She rolled her eyes.

“I didn’t expect a romantic gift!” I retorted. Why would I have? She wanted to know what I had given him, too. “I got him a milk frother.”

“What?” Her nose wrinkled, either in confusion or distaste. “What’s that?”

“He likes foamy milk in his coffee, and now he can make it at home. It’s not a handheld one, it’s a real machine that works great.”

Her nose-wrinkle was definitely distaste. “I don’t understand your generation. First, you’re sleeping on a pool float, and then you give your boyfriend a frother?”

“He isn’t my boyfriend,” I said shortly. “And my mattress wasn’t a pool float!”

“Nutty as a fruitcake,” Vera informed me, and swept off toward her garden apartment.

Oliver came back from getting his mail. “What’s with her?” he asked.

“Nothing, besides not liking products that enhance your hot beverage experience. She’s weird,” I stated. “Are you ready?”

He had wanted to come with me to the Milaflores Building today, so I could check on things. I was slowly rebuilding my wardrobe after it had been stolen, and that now included a new jacket that he had happened to find just lying around in his house somewhere. It fit me perfectly although he insisted that it had belonged to him, the guy a foot taller than I was.

A week had passed since the robbery but there was no news of either my mom or her boyfriend, not from the police and not from either of them showing up unexpectedly. But I was still staying at Oliver’s house, news which had apparently gotten around the building since Vera knew. She had obviously been wrong when she’d also called him my boyfriend and I hoped that she wouldn’t mention that to him.

I was only staying with him because I was still nervous about Maël/Michael, and so was Oliver. “There’s something wrong with him,” he had said repeatedly. He’d also pointed out that he had a lot of space in his house for guests.

That was true. There were five bedrooms and even more bathrooms, which made the place really large for only one guy. It was still large with me there, but he said that he liked having someone else around. And even though I had rented my one-bedroom apartment so that I could be on my own, sola, solitary, just me…I also liked the company. I enjoyed making breakfast for two people and eating dinner together after we cooked it on his stove, which worked much better than the very old one in my kitchen at the Milaflores Building. I enjoyed that we were car sharing to go to work at his office, which was great for the environment—yes, it had also been great for the environment when I had stayed to work in my apartment by myself, with no commute at all.

But still. I liked it.

“Here, I’ll take this,” he said now, and took the strap of the bag I’d borrowed from him and filled with more of my belongings. “Gramps is waiting.”

We went out into the frigid afternoon to meet him at the record shop, which had a new awning. That had been Oliver’s Christmas gift, along with his sister. The letters “Marchand’s Records” were all perfectly visible and it was clearly not an abandoned storefront, as you might have thought if you’d gone there before.

“It looks great,” I said as we approached the building.

“He likes it and I think it will help with business, although—has he said anything to you about that?”

“About needing customers?”

“No, about closing up the shop and retiring,” he explained. “He was texting me about how much he enjoyed his vacation and he mentioned how he’d like to take more of them. I said, ‘Why don’t you?’ and he answered that he might go on permanent one pretty soon.”

“It sounds kind of lonely,” I answered, and then realized how weird that statement was, coming from me. I had lived alone ever since I had finished my freshman year of college, and I had been happy to be by myself without all my mom’s hangers-on and without all the noise and action of other students. It had been great, and traveling alone would have been, too.

Gramps was waiting for us at the door and he looked as good as his new awning. “You’re so refreshed,” I told him.

He hugged me. “Am I? Like I got dry cleaned?”

“You’re tan,” Oliver said. “Did you sit on the beach and listen to music?”