17.

Cassie sat at her desk flipping through the sales figures. She wore a sleeveless cotton dress and white sandals. Her hair was tied in a low ponytail and she had a bright red Princess bag slung over her chair.

It was unseasonably warm for early June in San Francisco. The fog failed to make its afternoon appearance and tourists sweltered in light wool coats. They filtered into the emporium and left with cartons of organic ice cream and bottles of fizzy lemonade. The women who lived on Nob Hill were grateful they could nip into Fenton’s, pile fresh fruits and vegetables into their Princess bags, and avoid the sweaty crowds at Safeway.

The popularity of the Princess bags had grown slowly, but now it was at a frenzy. Princess Giselle carried hers everywhere: to lunch at Emerald, to charity teas at the Zoo and at MOMA, even to dinner at Michael Mina’s with a bright red Valentino dress.

Alexis photographed her wherever she went and made sure the photos ended up on every blog from W to Instyle. Women grew curious about the Princess. There were rumors it was made exclusively for Princess Giselle by Louis Vuitton with original artwork by Julian Schnabel. Women Googled it, asked their Facebook friends, whispered about it during yoga and Pilates. No one knew where to get one.

“We need to create a sense of mystery,” Alexis had counseled. “We can’t just hand the Princess out at the cash register and expect everyone to want one. Think about the Birkin. It takes four years to get off the waiting list.”

“In another four weeks we might be out of business,” Cassie had replied miserably. The prototype Princess sat in front of her, bright red spandex-like fabric illustrated with a fabulous scene of a farmers market. She wanted to get them into women’s hands as fast as possible.

“Trust me,” Alexis replied. “I have a plan.”

Alexis unveiled her plan at the Asian Art Museum’s annual fashion show. It was the red carpet event of the season. Invitations were so coveted they were traded for insider information about Apple’s latest iPhone release and Facebook’s IPO. Women ordered their couture outfits months ahead, wanting to outshine the models strutting down the runway in Zac Posen, Stella McCartney, and Versace.

Alexis had insisted Cassie dress up for the event, and pamper herself with a blowout and facial. Her days passed in a blur. She got up and swam fifty laps, then put in eight hours at Fenton’s. In the evenings she picked at Pia’s casseroles, watched Alexis devour ice cream, and climbed into bed with a cup of hot milk and a box of tissues.

*   *   *

Aidan appeared at Alexis’s front door one morning after Cassie finished her morning swim. Alexis was at a sunrise yoga class and Cassie was spooning brown sugar into a bowl of oatmeal. She threw a robe over her bathing suit and ran barefoot to the foyer.

When she saw Aidan she froze. He was wearing a white V-neck shirt and jogging shorts. She could see the gray hair curling on his chest, the thick muscles on his upper arms, the hands that had held and stroked her. She took a deep breath, trying to shut down her heart as if it had a switch with an off button.

“What are you doing here?” Cassie opened the door a crack.

“I brought you fruit from the co-op: green grapes, peaches, pomegranates.” Aidan held up a paper bag. “They’re all in season.”

“I don’t want organic fruit, or vegetables from the garden, or sexy texts. I want you to leave me alone,” Cassie replied tightly.

“Let me come in, Cassie.” Aidan wedged his knee in the door. “I need to explain.”

“Molly explained everything in graphic detail.” Cassie held on to the door handle. “I’ll be late for work. I have to go.”

“Cassie.” Aidan’s voice was harsh and commanding. “You can give me five minutes.”

Cassie wavered. She wanted to slam the door and run upstairs but she knew he would just come back. She pulled the robe tightly around her.

“Five minutes.” She opened the door.

“I’ve missed you.” Aidan stood in the foyer. He had a day’s stubble on his chin and dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was damp as if he’d come from the gym. He still had the tan he got in Greece and his teeth were bright against his brown skin.

Cassie led him into the conservatory and sat gingerly at the glass table. “I’ve contacted my attorney and started the divorce proceedings.”

“Cassie, listen to me.” Aidan grabbed her hands across the table. “I’ve never loved you more. It was all madness. You don’t know what it’s like to be pushing fifty, to be surrounded by young people who have their whole lives in front of them.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Cassie pulled her hands away and hugged her chest.

“The department got a new hire this year: Randy Lipton. He had a Ph.D. from Stanford and walked around campus in surfer shorts and Rainbow sandals. Coeds lined up outside his office the first day of classes. When I told them professors don’t hold office hours the first week of school, they just giggled. They were like groupies, waiting for a rock star to appear backstage. I know how juvenile I sound.” Aidan rubbed his temples. “But when Molly made a play for me I couldn’t resist. I needed to feel like a man.”

“Aidan, I’m not your therapist. I promised to love you in sickness and in health but that wasn’t enough. I don’t love you anymore, I can’t love you.” Cassie kept her eyes on the table.

“You can love me.” Aidan latched on to her words. “We can see a therapist together.”

“You fucked Molly, you fucked your TA. You lied to everyone and cheated.” Cassie shook her head.

“Everywhere I went, Randy was the rising star. He came to the gym one night and asked me to play a game of squash. He trounced me, Cassie. I couldn’t walk after the game! I hobbled off the court like the fucking Hunchback of Notre Dame.”

“Being jealous of a young stud is no excuse for screwing your way across campus and through Europe.” Cassie lifted her eyes to meet Aidan’s.

“I was crazed.” Aidan pulled his hair. “But the madness has passed. I woke up one morning in Athens and knew I had to be home with you. I got the first plane out.” Aidan leaned across the table. “And our sex was so good, Cassie.”

Cassie jumped back as if she’d been shot. She felt like she was looking at Aidan through a kaleidoscope. Every time she turned it, it formed a different pattern.

“You caught the first plane out because Penny left you! You don’t know how to stop lying. What’s going to happen when your hair turns white and your back goes out? Are you going to bed the whole junior faculty? Good-bye, Aidan.” She stood up and walked toward the foyer.

“Cassie.” Aidan followed her. “Give me one more chance.”

“I’m not a magic genie.” Cassie walked to the front door. “I can’t fix you. Let me know when you get the divorce papers.”

Aidan grabbed her arm and grazed her cheek with his lips. Cassie could smell his aftershave and his avocado shampoo. She wriggled out of his grasp and opened the front door.

“Please leave,” she whispered.

“Have you thought about what this is going to do to Isabel?” Aidan stood in the middle of the tall double doors.

Cassie tried to keep her breathing steady. She dropped her hands to her sides and waited for them to stop shaking.

“Isabel can still work at Fenton’s this summer. Good-bye, Aidan.” She slammed the door and ran upstairs.

When she reached her room, she walked straight to the closet and leaned against the full-length mirror. She closed her eyes, trying to erase the feel of Aidan’s mouth on her skin. The cold glass against her cheek soothed her. Slowly she opened her eyes, slipped off her robe, and searched for the perfect outfit to wear to work.

Since then she tried to throw herself into working at Fenton’s, dressing in breezy summer dresses, spending extra time on her hair and makeup, but she couldn’t regain her earlier passion. She told herself it was like learning to walk again, one baby step at a time. Sometimes crawling seemed impossible.

*   *   *

On the morning of the Asian Art Museum fashion show, Cassie went to Joseph Cozza’s on Maiden Lane and came out with skin that had been scrubbed, buffed, and plastered with seaweed. Joseph convinced her to get the Brazilian blowout and her hair lay smoothly on her shoulders like a silk cap. Even her hands had been coated with almond butter, placed in mittens, and buffed with an exfoliating brush. She felt almost happy as she walked into Fenton’s to pick up the dress Alexis had selected for the fashion show.

“Hi, stranger.” James grinned as she got on the escalator. He wore navy slacks and a white button-down shirt. His hair was brushed to the side and he carried a stack of papers under his arm.

“You’re wearing your glasses. Have you been staring at figures all day?” Cassie smiled. She hadn’t been avoiding James but she kept their conversations short. She found her eyes still filled unexpectedly with tears, and she had to slip on sunglasses and bite her lips to stop them from trembling.

“Closing out some final deliveries.” He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Are sales improving?”

“Not yet.” Cassie grimaced. “Giselle has been parading the Princess around but Alexis is keeping its origin under wraps. She has some big plan to launch it at the Asian Art Museum today. If she doesn’t launch it soon, our ship will sink.”

“Who knew they taught marketing to dance majors?” James laughed.

“She’s like a tornado,” Cassie agreed. “Giselle’s dinner party was such a success we’ve been inundated with requests to plan menus for her friends.”

“That must be boosting sales a bit.” James nodded as they got off the escalator. “I had lunch with your mother yesterday. She didn’t seem quite ready to throw in the towel.”

“Alexis filled her in on the Princess, so I think we’ve gained a temporary stay of execution.” Cassie headed toward the dress department.

“Cassie.” James put his hand on her wrist. “Your mother told me what happened between you and Aidan.”

“Aaah.” Cassie exhaled like a tire puncturing. “I’m sure she enjoyed that. She’s always been Aidan’s biggest fan.”

“She was concerned about you. I’m sorry you had to go through that, he doesn’t know what he’s giving up.”

“He has lots of distractions.” Cassie blinked away the tears. “I better go. If I’m late for the fashion show, Alexis will skin my hide and sell it to make shoes.”

“I wanted to know if you’d like to have dinner. We could go to Boulevard and I’ll walk you through the menu.” He smiled like a schoolboy, sticking his hands in his pant pockets.

Cassie hesitated. James was so easy to be around and he made her laugh. “I don’t have time.” She shook her head. “I need to concentrate on the emporium if it’s going to pull through. Aren’t you going back to Chicago soon?”

“Third week of June. I get a couple of weeks off. Then I’m gutting a steak house and turning it into a raw food restaurant.”

“Maybe I’ll see you before you leave.” Cassie pulled her hand away.

“I’ll bring in some McDonald’s.” James smiled awkwardly. “Knock ’em dead this afternoon.”

*   *   *

Cassie stood in the dressing room, admiring herself in the mirror. The dress Alexis had selected was a delicious raw silk the color of cherries, slit up the sides and with a plunging neckline. She slipped on a delicate gold belt and three gold bangles and examined the shoes Alexis left in a Bottega Veneta box: red stiletto heels with gold buckles and a dusting of diamonds. She put them on and turned in front of the mirror. She wished Aidan could see her, then she pushed the thought away, grabbed her purse, and hurried down the escalator.

“I feel like one of Charlie’s Angels,” she said to Alexis, who was waiting in front of a stretch limousine.

“Then the first part of my plan is working.” Alexis grinned. She wore an almost identical dress the color of raspberries, with a silver belt and an armful of silver bangles. “What do you think of our princess?”

Giselle strutted toward them in a dress so tight it looked like it was sprayed on. Her legs seemed to go on forever and her hair fell to her waist like spun gold. She wore a ruby and diamond choker and a diamond tiara on her head.

“I think she’s going to cause an accident.” Cassie giggled at the construction workers and tourists who stopped and stared.

“We each get one of these.” Alexis handed Cassie a Princess bag. “But don’t open it until I say so. Let’s go.” She opened the door of the limousine. “It’s time to put Operation Princess in motion.”

*   *   *

The Asian Art Museum was packed by the time they arrived. Women stepped out of Mercedes and Jaguars carrying Louis Vuitton bags with solid gold buckles.

“Why are we circling? We’re almost late.” Cassie glanced at her watch.

“Haven’t you learned anything from watching E!? We can’t make an entrance unless everyone’s here.” Alexis signaled the driver to stop. “You go first,” she said to Cassie. “Remember, Giselle’s the princess, we’re the ladies in waiting.”

Cassie, Alexis, and Giselle walked into the museum, Princess bags draped over their shoulders. Alexis grabbed them each a glass of champagne and circled the room twice, blowing kisses and waving to the women in floppy hats and Gucci shoes. Then she crossed the runway and led Cassie and Giselle to their front-row seats.

Cassie saw the Traina girls with their mother, Danielle Steel. She spotted Annette Bening, who she knew was performing a play at the ACT. She saw the girls from Yahoo!: Marissa Mayer and her pack of wealthy dot-commers. She spotted Allison Speer, public relations queen, sitting next to Kendall Wilkinson.

“Ladies.” The emcee tapped his microphone. “We are thrilled you could join us for this star-studded event. We are lucky to have the designers with us this afternoon and if you behave, they might be taking special orders.” The emcee winked and the women chuckled appreciatively. “Please join us in the east wing for a delicious buffet after the show. Let me introduce our fabulous models.”

The women clapped and waited for the models to appear on the runway. There was a loud rustling behind the curtains and the emcee appeared again, red-faced and clutching his microphone. “My apology for the delay. There’s been a small wardrobe malfunction. Feel free to refill your champagne glasses. The show will begin shortly.”

Everyone waited expectantly but nothing happened. The women started squirming, fanning themselves with their programs. They made small coughing noises as if that would prompt the show to begin. Alexis positioned her bag on her lap and said to her neighbor: “I hope the show begins soon. I did back-to-back Pilates classes this morning. I’m starving.”

“A few more minutes, please.” The emcee came back on stage, wiping sweat from his forehead. “We’re fixing the problem as quickly as possible.”

“I don’t know about you,” Alexis whispered loudly to her neighbor so the first few rows could hear. “If I don’t eat something, I’m going to faint.” She unbuckled her bag and took out a bunch of green grapes, a jar of sun-dried tomato hummus, a round of olive bread, and a basket of cherry tomatoes.

Cassie saw women crane their necks as Alexis handed her neighbor a crust of bread spread with hummus. Alexis turned to the second row and passed around the basket of tomatoes. She nudged Cassie and Cassie obediently opened her bag and shared its contents with the women near her. Soon the first three rows were eating duck pâté, asparagus tips, tangerine slices, and sweet radishes.

Giselle opened hers last. She leaned down to retrieve her bag so her breasts brushed against her dress like two ripe melons. She opened the clasp and extracted a cream-filled éclair wrapped in silver paper. She put the éclair in her mouth, licking the sides like it was a long, thick penis, and wiped the cream off her lips with a silk napkin. Then she let out a long sigh like a protracted orgasm, and muttered something in German.

The lights dimmed and music blared from hidden loudspeakers. The models strutted down the runway, six-foot amazons wearing layers of makeup and very little clothes, and everyone applauded in relief. Alexis packed the food back in her bag and stashed it neatly under her seat, winking at Cassie to do the same.

*   *   *

“Where did you get that bag?” A thin woman wearing a floppy hat accosted Cassie. “I’m always starving but I can’t tote a Caesar salad around in a Fendi clutch.”

“It’s an exclusive,” Alexis interrupted. The women stood in small groups in the east wing, nibbling hors d’oeuvres and dissecting the fashion show.

“I must have one.” The woman stroked Cassie’s bag. “I love the fabric, it’s so supple. And the artwork reminds me of van Gogh. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Fenton’s food emporium,” Cassie replied, moving the bag to her other shoulder.

“Don’t tell anyone,” Alexis whispered, standing between them. “They’re only available with purchase, and supplies are extremely limited.”

*   *   *

The limousine dropped Giselle off at her St. Regis penthouse and Alexis stretched her legs in front of her. “I’d say that was a success.” She grinned.

Dozens of women approached them during the reception begging to know where they could get a Princess bag. Alexis whispered in their ears and the women floated back to their friends, eyes sparkling with their secret.

“I hope we have enough bags.” Cassie giggled. “I may have to call Mr. Paik and rush order some more.”

“Did you see Giselle swallow that éclair?” Alexis laughed. “She should moonlight as a porn star.”

“I have one small question.” Cassie slipped off her Bottega Venetas and wiggled her toes. “Did you have anything to do with the ‘small wardrobe malfunction’?”

“Convent girls never tell.” Alexis smiled like the Cheshire cat. “We deserve a treat. Let’s go home and watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Driver”—she tapped the glass partition—“could you stop at the market? We need to pick up a carton of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.”

*   *   *

The day after the fashion show women lined up at Fenton’s before the doors were open. They made a beeline to the emporium, filling their carts with fruits and vegetables, fish and poultry, wine and cheese. They handed their gold cards to the cashier and claimed their prizes: their own Princess bags stuffed with their purchases.

Cassie saw women carrying Princess bags all over the city. Thom Paik had to hire a night shift to keep up with production. Cassie kept Gregory supplied with cases of wine and baskets of Fenton’s pâtés and soft cheeses. Sales of merchandise were going through the roof. Cassie’s mother came down to the emporium several times a day to bask in the success.

“Darling, there you are,” Diana cooed. She was dressed in what she forecasted to be the summer color: bright yellow that belonged on a rain slicker. She wore a white silk scarf and white sandals accessorized with colored gems.

“You look very stylish.” Cassie smiled.

“I have an important lunch date with Hermès. They finally are considering opening a Hermès boutique in Fenton’s.” She tapped her cigarette holder on Cassie’s desk. “I actually have two lunch dates, I need your help.”

“My help?” Cassie asked dubiously.

“I was supposed to have lunch today with Grant Landers. Do you remember him? You used to take dancing lessons together. He sold his start-up to Google and started a line of swimsuits. All the profits go to charity. I promised we’d discuss carrying them at Fenton’s.” Diana plucked a lily from the vase on Cassie’s desk. “Could you do me a huge favor and have lunch with him? I can’t put off the people from Hermès.”

“Why don’t you reschedule with Grant?” Cassie frowned.

“He’s already driven up from Palo Alto. Please, Cassie. His mother and I go way back.”

“Fine.” Cassie stacked the papers on her desk. “But I have three appointments this afternoon to look at apartments.”

“I respect your desire not to stay at Alexis’s indefinitely,” Cassie’s mother said carefully. “But do you really want to be alone right now? You could stay with me.”

Cassie’s face softened. “I’ve lived with someone my whole life. I think being alone is exactly what I need. I’m going to find a one bedroom with lots of light and get a cat.”

“Cats aren’t very good company.” Diana shook her head. “They can be quite self-centered. Grant is waiting in my office. I’ll tell him you’ll meet him on the first floor.”

*   *   *

Grant stood in the swimsuit section, examining fabric. Cassie remembered him as a skinny redhead who held her too tight when they danced. Now his hair was more strawberry blond. He wore a white T-shirt, tight jeans, and leather sandals.

“Cassie Fenton, you still look like you’re twelve years old.” His smile revealed bright white teeth.

“It’s nice to see you.” Cassie blushed. “My mother tells me you’re doing wonderful things for charity.”

“It’s hard when you make so much money so young.” Grant shrugged. “You really have to search for meaning in life. Besides the obvious things, like money, women, and fame.” He laughed. “Why don’t we talk about it over lunch? I have reservations at Emerald.”

Cassie and Grant sat at a table by the window and Grant ordered a Loire Valley Chardonnay.

“If I only drink wine at dinner, I’ll never be able to sample all the fine wines in the world.” He broke a breadstick and dipped it in olive oil. “I try a different region every month, it’s very educational.”

“Tell me about your swimsuit line,” Cassie said politely.

“I was sitting on the beach in Fiji a couple of years ago and I saw these native girls playing in the sand. Here I was, staying in a thousand-dollar-a-day resort, and they probably didn’t have a decent education. I started a foundation to build schools in tropical countries where the natives live on the poverty line.”

“That’s really admirable.” Cassie nodded.

“Swimsuits seemed a natural fit.” Grant sipped his wine. “Plus the perks are great. I pick out the models and I’m present for the fashion shoots. Next week I leave for Antigua.”

Cassie ordered a grilled vegetable plate and moved the food around on her plate. She still didn’t have much of an appetite, and usually nibbled nuts and dried fruit at her desk. She listened to Grant’s plans to get his swimsuits into Fenton’s and Neiman’s and tried to smile enthusiastically.

“I have to go.” She placed her napkin on her plate. “I’m apartment hunting this afternoon.”

Grant put his hand over hers. “Your mother told me about your marriage. I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“You’re very pretty. I just don’t want a serious relationship right now.” He squeezed her hand harder.

“Excuse me,” Cassie spluttered.

“All this money, this freedom, it’s life-changing. I don’t feel like settling down for a while. If you want to come to my place I can show you my latest swimsuit designs. I just want to be up front.” Grant leaned forward, his chest puffing up like a peacock.

“Up front?” Cassie felt like she was choking.

“Expectations.” He put his other hand over hers. “Women your age, a failed marriage, biological clock ticking. I’m sure you’re great in bed, I just wouldn’t want to go there under false pretenses.”

Cassie felt like every nerve in her body was about to snap. She stood up slowly so Grant wouldn’t see her shaking. “I thought this was a business lunch.”

“Your mother called and told me what you’ve been through.” Grant didn’t release her hand. “And she’s right, you’re a looker. I just didn’t want to lead you on.”

“Good-bye, Grant.”

“We haven’t had dessert.” He pushed his chair back.

“I’m sure there are a few swimsuit models in the restaurant, there always are.” Cassie grabbed her purse. “I’ll tell my mother we had a delightful time.”

*   *   *

Cassie stormed into Diana’s office. “You sent me on a blind date with a soft porn addict and pretended it was a business lunch.”

“Cassie”—her mother stood up from her desk—“Grant is a very motivated young man.”

“Motivated to get models into the sack! How dare you!” Cassie was shaking. “I don’t want to date, and if I did, I’d like to know it was a date ahead of time.”

“I thought it would be less pressure this way.” Diana shrugged. “The men in San Francisco are either married or gay. Internet companies are producing lovely young men who are intelligent and have money.”

“Mother.” Cassie’s face was bright red. “I’m not even divorced. I don’t want a man.”

“I know I didn’t marry again,” Diana said delicately, “but I always had romantic interests. I already had a child. For you, it’s different.”

“I’m thirty-two, I have plenty of time to have a child. It’s too soon to think about dating.” Cassie suddenly felt tired. The half glass of wine she drank made her head throb. She pictured Grant sitting across the table, sniffing his wineglass, and shuddered.

“It’s never too soon to be happy,” her mother replied, inspecting her manicure. “In today’s world you have to go out and look for it. Think of all the people who do Internet dating.”

“If you sign me up for Match.com, I quit,” Cassie threatened.

“I’m sorry Grant wasn’t a gentleman.” Diana tapped her nails on the desk. “But you need to keep your eyes open. You have beautiful skin, Cassie, but it doesn’t stay soft forever.”

“I’m taking the rest of the day off.” Cassie threw open the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

*   *   *

The first apartment the real estate agent showed Cassie was a studio in the Marina. She had always loved the Marina Green. She imagined taking long walks by the bay, watching boats sail under the Golden Gate Bridge.

“It has a lovely exposure. You said sun is important to you.” The real estate agent lifted the blinds to reveal a sliver of the bay hidden behind taller apartment buildings.

“It’s a little cramped.” Cassie turned around in the living room/bedroom. “I think I’d feel more comfortable up the hill.”

“No one in the Marina worries about earthquakes anymore.” The agent shrugged dismissively. She was a small blond woman with thin ankles and muscled upper arms. “But I’ll show you a couple of places in Cow Hollow.”

Cassie trudged through a one bedroom in Cow Hollow feeling her spirits fall. After she had stormed out of her mother’s office she was more determined to get her own apartment. She pictured herself tossing salads in her kitchen, and eating them in a sun-filled garden. Maybe she would make a friend or two in the building and have potlucks like when she was in college.

The apartments she saw weren’t big enough to have people over and they had that impermanent feel of a rental. The walls were beige and the floors were chipped hardwood. The closets were bare and smelled of mothballs.

“I want something with a little more character.” Cassie sighed. “With a fireplace or a garden.”

“June is a difficult time of year for rentals.” The agent consulted her book. “I have one that will be available in about a week. It has very nice bay windows, not a lot of closet space.”

“I need a view more than clothes.” Cassie smiled. “I’d like to take a look.”

*   *   *

The apartment was on the second floor of a duplex on Steiner Street. The lobby had velvet wallpaper and big potted palms and there was a gilt mirror on the wall. Cassie climbed the wooden staircase and smelled lasagna and garlic.

“The back apartment is leased by an old couple, but the front apartment is a sublet. If you don’t mind the smell of Italian cooking, it might work. It gets nice light, especially in the evenings.” The real estate agent sorted through her keys and opened the door.

“What beautiful floors!” Cassie exclaimed. The floors were polished maple and the walls were painted pale blue. There was a fireplace in one corner and tall bay windows covered by sheer curtains.

“I think the rugs belong to the tenant.” The agent opened the curtains. “But you could ask him if they can stay with the apartment. The bedroom also gets lovely light and the closet has been converted into an office.” She showed Cassie the next room. “If you stand by the window you can see Coit Tower. There’s a bakery on the corner that bakes delicious croissants.”

“It’s quite spacious.” Cassie surveyed the bedroom. A queen-sized bed stood in the middle of the room flanked by two wood bedside tables. A sketch of the Bay Bridge hung on the wall and a chest of drawers stood in the corner. Cassie peeked in on a windowless bathroom and a small closet with a built-in desk and folding chair.

“The lease has another six months.” The agent trailed Cassie. “But I could probably negotiate something longer.”

Cassie returned to the living room and stood by the window. The street was full of trees and there was a boy zipping up and down the sidewalk on a scooter.

“I like the feel of the neighborhood.” Cassie hesitated. “I’d definitely want a longer lease.”

“I have a meeting.” The agent glanced at her watch. “But I can draw up a lease and present it to the landlord in the morning.”

Cassie sat on the window seat and looked down on the street. The afternoon sun streamed in, creating spidery shafts of light. “Do you mind if I sit here for a few minutes? I’m going to live here alone and I just want to see how it feels.”

“The divorce apartment.” The agent nodded knowingly. “You want to know if the four walls are going to close in on you. I really have to run but you look pretty safe. I’ll leave the key and you can slip it in the mailbox on your way out.” She fiddled with her key chain and handed the key to Cassie.

“Thank you.” Cassie blushed. “I won’t stay long.”

“Don’t worry.” The agent opened the door. “Eventually you’ll love living alone. You can eat whatever you want and leave your makeup on the bathroom sink.”

*   *   *

Cassie reclined on the window seat looking out at the bay. She saw boats rocking in the distance and the outline of the Marin hills. Two women pushed strollers across the street and an old lady carried a sack of groceries.

The apartment was brutally quiet. She missed the sound of vegetables being sliced on the kitchen counter. She missed hearing the shower running and the dryer tossing Aidan’s socks.

Cassie wondered if she should move to her mother’s Nob Hill penthouse for a while. It was convenient to Fenton’s and she’d never be lonely with Diana to spar with in the evenings. She imagined the parade of suitors that might arrive at the door, picked by Diana for their breeding and prospects, and shuddered.

“Cassie, what are you doing here?”

“James!” She turned to the front door. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here.” He closed the front door. He was carrying two bags of Chinese takeout and a pile of magazines. “At least until the end of next week. Did you come to say good-bye?”

“My real estate agent showed me the apartment and I just wanted to sit and admire the view.” Cassie jumped up from the window seat. “I had no idea it was yours!”

James put his bags down and walked over to Cassie. “Please stay and have dinner.”

“I can’t.” Cassie blushed. “I have to be…”

“Nowhere.” James put his hand on her wrist. “I have too much for one person to eat. You’re doing me a favor. Without you, I’ll be eating Kung Pao chicken for a week.”

*   *   *

“Now you see the exciting life of a bachelor.” James ladled wontons into a soup bowl. “I did go a little crazy tonight. I got fortune cookies and ice cream for dessert.”

“I thought you were a foodie.” Cassie ate a forkful of Chinese coleslaw. They sat at a round table in the kitchen. James had covered it with a blue tablecloth and dragged an extra folding chair from the closet.

“I love everything about food,” James admitted, “except cooking it. I have two left thumbs in the kitchen.”

“That explains the McDonald’s addiction,” Cassie joked. She had felt nervous about staying for dinner, but James was so easy to talk to. She felt like a kid hanging out at a friend’s house after school.

“Luckily this neighborhood has some wonderful take-out places. There’s a Russian restaurant on the corner that makes the best borscht with sour cream.” James sprinkled seasoning on his teriyaki noodles. “Are you going to take the apartment?”

“Carter is coming home soon. Alexis will have enough problems without me being around.”

“He still doesn’t want Alexis working at Fenton’s?” James frowned. “Alexis is the department store queen. She has her own fan page on Facebook.”

“He doesn’t know she’s working at Fenton’s.” Cassie laughed. “He’s been on a kangaroo farm for weeks. My mother suggested I move in with her but we’d claw each other’s eyes out.”

“Diana can be a challenge,” James agreed diplomatically. “She’s thrilled with the success of the emporium.”

“I’m happy it’s doing well,” Cassie replied hesitantly. She put her fork down and fiddled with her napkin.

“Does Fenton’s make you happy?” James heaped noodles on Cassie’s plate.

“I feel like a child who begged for a puppy and then wanted to return it,” Cassie admitted. “I love talking with the suppliers and I enjoy being around food, but there’s just something about the clientele.”

“They dress like movie queens and behave like spoiled children at a birthday party?” James grinned.

“I feel so guilty.” Cassie breathed. “In a way Aidan was right. I’m not cut out for San Francisco society. I’m more comfortable around vegetables.”

“You could try something different.”

“I don’t think I’m up for different right now. Maybe I just need to settle in.” Cassie shrugged. She picked at a forkful of chicken.

“You need to do what you love, Cassie.”

“I haven’t been very successful in the love department.” Cassie put her napkin on the table and pushed back her chair. “Dinner was delicious, but I better go.”

“You can’t go before we open our fortune cookies.” James stood up. “You’ll never know what you missed.”

“I don’t have much luck with fortune cookies.” Cassie grimaced. “Mine usually say things like ‘Beware man carrying sticks. He will break your back.’ That’s why I eat Japanese food.”

“I’ll open your fortune and you open mine. If it’s terrible, I’ll throw it away and you’ll never know. Why don’t we eat them in the living room? You carry the cookies and I’ll grab the ice cream,” James suggested, clearing away plates and containers of noodles.

Cassie sat on the window seat and tucked her feet underneath her. She looked down on the street. The streetlights were on and the sidewalk was bathed in a yellow light. She saw a couple walking arm in arm, leaning into each other and laughing.

James carried a TV dinner tray with a carton of vanilla ice cream.

“The TV dinner tray is one of my favorite inventions.” James handed Cassie a bowl and spoon. “You can eat alone and never get lonely. Jon Stewart is always there to keep you company. You go first; what does my fortune cookie say?”

“‘You can never be too kind,’” Cassie read the thin white paper. “‘Your kindness will be returned in gold.’”

“Very wise.” James sat on the window seat next to her. “My turn. ‘Plant happiness like a small seed. Soon it will flower.’”

James put his glasses on the TV tray and leaned toward Cassie. He tucked her hair behind her ears and kissed her softly on the mouth. He leaned against the window and kissed her harder, his lips wet and sweet.

Cassie felt the pressure of his mouth on hers, of his hand on the small of her back. She kissed him back. His body was thin and hard and smelled like peppermint soap. She leaned against the window and the bowl of ice cream turned over in her lap and clattered to the floor.

“I’m sorry.” She pulled away and hunched down on the rug. “I’ve ruined your rug. I’ll get a paper towel.” She ran to the kitchen and returned with a roll of paper towels. She mopped up the ice cream, keeping her eyes on the floor so James wouldn’t see her blush. “I really should go,” she said when the puddle of ice cream had disappeared.

“You can’t go.” James sat on the rug next to her. “Your skirt is wet, it’s see-through.”

“James, I don’t think…” She stumbled.

“Don’t think.” He pulled her up and led her to the bedroom. “I’ll think for both of us.”

James closed the curtains and put his arms around Cassie. He kissed her tentatively, like a boy on a prom date, until she started to kiss him back. Cassie waited while he unzipped her dress, feeling his cold fingers on her naked back.

He pulled the dress over her head and unsnapped her bra. He touched her breasts, drawing circles around her nipples, and then he pulled off her panties and let them drop to the floor.

“I knew you were beautiful.” James unzipped his pants, took off his shirt, and pulled her onto the bed. His body was thin and hard like a cross-country runner. He ran his fingers over her stomach, kissing her mouth, her neck, her breasts. He pushed her back and studied her face, tracing her nose and mouth with her finger.

Cassie’s legs opened by themselves, her body straining to reach him. James turned away and fumbled in the bedside drawer. Then he turned back, found her hands, and held them tightly. He covered her body with his and pushed deep inside her.

Cassie came first, a long orgasm that crept up on her, not allowing her to back away. James waited till she stopped shaking and then he pushed harder, gasping, falling on her breasts, and shattered against her.

James turned on his side and pulled her close to him. Cassie lay with her eyes open, hearing his breathing rise and fall. She felt the pieces of her heart rearrange themselves like a Rubik’s cube. She tucked herself against his chest, closed her eyes, and slept.