Chapter Thirteen

Now

Matt’s apartment wasn’t far away as the crow flies, but it took a while to get there. He lived on the east side of the city, in one of the strangest digs I’d ever seen. His apartment was the former servants’ quarters of one of the large mansions on Lake Drive. It had been converted into a rental space by the owners of the house, who also had a condo in Florida, a ski chalet in Aspen, and a yacht, inexplicably in Virginia. They liked to have a tenant who would take in their mail and presumably scare off potential thieves with his four meager windows lit in the northwestern corner of the property. The place was gorgeous, though, and Matt was alone on the gated lot most of the year. Apparently, the servants had lived well when they were there: hardwood floors, a natural fireplace in the living room, and high plastered ceilings. My own apartment was a pre-fab nightmare in comparison.

I parked in the short drive that served the back of the house and walked around the ivy-covered corner to the side entrance that was all Matt’s. I hit the buzzer and had to wait for him to come down the stairs to let me in. The owners had updated the place to the hilt when they’d converted it, but had stopped short of installing an actual mechanism to open the door from the second floor.

It took him a long time to answer, which made me more nervous. I swallowed hard, and shifted my shoulders. It seemed that my light cardigan had somehow shrunk two sizes. It felt so tight—like it was trying to crush me. Hastily, I unbuttoned it and shrugged out of it. Then it was my hair that seemed determined to wrap around my neck and squeeze out the air. I used my hands to gather it back into a ponytail for a moment of reprieve. It was then I realized I’d left my glasses on in my distraction. I took them off and stuffed them into my purse. I knew it would be a miracle if I remembered where I’d put them, but at least I’d de-nerded.

Then suddenly, Matt was pounding down the stairs in his socks, nearly slipping on the third-from-the-bottom and flinging his arms out to gain his balance. I watched the whole thing through the mullioned door and couldn’t help laughing.

“Hey, come on in,” he said, turning his back to run back up the stairs without further greeting.

“Nice to see you, too!” I shouted after him, stopping to take off my shoes.

“Sorry!” he called back. “My timer just went off!”

I wouldn’t exactly call what Matt had at the bottom of the stairs a foyer, but there were a few hooks on the wall for coats and a small collection of shoes he left there. I always took mine off when I arrived, though he’d never asked me to. It just seemed like the thing to do.

When I went to hang up my coat, the usual hook I used was already occupied by a dirty baseball cap. I burst out laughing when I saw it. Matt wasn’t the kind of guy who wore hats all the time, like so many of the guys I’d known in college. But there was one summer where he always seemed to have a hat on. Like he was in disguise. And it had been this sad, filthy cap. I hadn’t seen it since then, now that I thought about it. I thought he’d lost it.

For that matter, I thought I’d thrown it into Lake Mendota.