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This is the first time I’ve had more than a glimpse of another apartment in the building, and I can’t help but be curious. Not surprisingly, her living room is small like mine, but she’s done a great job of fixing it up in the short time she’s lived here. Almost everything in the room is white—the walls, curtains, slipcovers on the couch and armchair, even the small pieces of wooden furniture. On the wall opposite the door, there’s a single shelf of blond wood, almost like the top of a mantelpiece, and it’s lined with sun-bleached shells and conchs. The air smells of fir trees, thanks to a scented candle burning on top of the bookcase, and the whole vibe is incredibly serene and calming.Except for a few textbooks piled on the coffee table, it looks like a magazine shoot.
“Wow,” I say after taking it all in. “This feels like a beautiful spa retreat. Ha, not that I’ve been to one, but I’ve seen pictures.”
“Thank you,” Mikoto says. “My mom is Japanese and one of many things I’ve gotten from her, besides my name, is an appreciation for Zen-like interiors.”
“You mentioned you were in a doorman building before this. Was it nearby?”
“No, uptown. I worked for a tech company before law school, which meant I could afford a pretty nice place. Once I had to quit work for school, I brought in a roommate to cover costs, but she turned out to be a nightmare, so I gave up the apartment and managed to get a much cheaper one down here.”
I smile. “And now, whenever you need a tattoo, a vintage dress, or a dumpling, you’re only steps away from it.”
“Exactly,” she says, laughing. “Though I’ll take life on Seventh Street over having a roommate any day.... How are you doing, by the way? Has the guy’s wife made any more trouble?”
“Not yet, but I still definitely want to talk to an attorney.”
“Okay, well, I’ve got a couple of names, and I thought I’d explain what my uncle says are the pros and cons of each one. You want a drink while we go over it? I was about to have a glass of white wine.”
“I’d love one,” I say, touched by her hospitality. “If you sure it’s not too much trouble?”
“None at all.”
The layout of her apartment is almost identical to mine, just in reverse, and as Mikoto slips into the kitchen, I lower myself onto the couch. I can’t remember the last time I had a friendly drink with someone else or even sat in another person’s apartment. When I moved to New York from Boston, I worked at a magazine website fortwo years, designing pages, and then for a small marketing agency, and at each place I had a couple of colleagues that I sometimes socialized with. We’d meet for drinks at a bar or occasionally do a potluck dinner at someone’s apartment.
But over time it became too much of a strain to fake it around other people, to contain my grief and fury at the world and plaster on an insipid if-I-can-make-it-here-I-can-make-it-anywhere smile. Once I left the agency to go freelance, I let those people fade from my life, and though a few persisted with calls for a while, most gave up without a fight.
“Here you go,” Mikoto says, returning with two long-stemmed glasses, frosted a little on the sides. I wait until she takes a seat and then indulge in my first sip. The wine has a buttery taste and is refreshingly cold, as if she’s had it chilling in the refrigerator for hours. Does being so together come naturally to her, I wonder, or is it a skill she honed over time?
“I hope I’m not interrupting your studying,” I say, nodding with my chin to the textbooks on the coffee table.
“No, I’m done for the night. After you leave, I’ll make an omelet and go to bed. Though I often have to study at night, I’m really a morning person and get more done early.”
“Are you glad you did it? I mean, law school.”
“Yeah, I think so.” She wrinkles her nose a little. “Though if you’ll excuse the expression, the jury’s still out. My uncle says being happy as a lawyer all comes down to picking the right area of expertise for yourself and the right firm, so I’ll have to see what the future holds.... And speaking of my uncle, let me give you those names.”
Still holding her glass, she uses her free hand to tug a sheet of paper from beneath one of the textbooks and holds it out in front of us so we can study it simultaneously. There are three names typed on the page—one woman and two men—and beneath each one is a short description of their education and expertise. All three havedegrees from fancy colleges and specialize in estate law. She gives me a minute to digest it all, but I have no idea where to start.
“My uncle says they’re all good,” Mikoto says, as if sensing my confusion, “but from what he told me, I think Rebecca Rosenbaum would be the best fit. Her practice is newer, so she might not charge as much, and since she’s a woman, you have less of a chance of getting attitude about the one-night stand.”
“What do you think her hourly rate might be?”
“My best guess? About seven hundred, maybe eight.”
“Holy cow. And how long do you think it might take to get in to see her?”
“Lawyers are generally hungry for work, so it might only take a couple of days.”
I nod. I wish it were tomorrow, but I have no immediate sense of Jane breathing down my neck, so the timing should be okay. “I took your advice, by the way, about trying to figure out why the guy left me money. It turns out you were right—it had nothing to do with nostalgia or warm, fuzzy feelings. He was apparently furious with his wife for sleeping with a close friend of his and I was part of his revenge on her.”
“Ouch,” Mikoto says. “Well, at least you know now. And what about the other situation, with that guy you dated?”
“Oh, I forgot, there’s a bit of news on that front, too.” I tell her about getting a look at the clearly besotted Deacon and the doubts I now have about him as the culprit. “Which means I’m back to square one, without any clues,” I add.
“You can’t think of anyone else? Maybe someone who seemed weirdly interested in you at a party, for instance? Or at a gallery show of yours?”
I shake my head. “This is my first show, and socially, I-I mostly keep a low profile.”
Mikoto sets her glass on the coffee table and furrows her brow.She stares at a spot on the far wall while tapping her hands lightly together a few times. It’s not hard to picture her doing that one day as an attorney, thinking through a strategy.
