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“I almost had a heart attack,” he said, without any trace of humor. “It was you, right there in the bookstore. I almost spoke to you until you turned around and I saw your hair was different. It was much shorter.”

Cassie smiled grimly. “I kept it short when I was traveling. Nothing worse than long hair when there’s a risk of head lice.”

“You smiled at me when you passed me today,” he said. “Do you remember? Can you remember seeing me?”

Cassie searched her memories from those days when she had first arrived in the city. It was a jumble of images and smells and noises, days filled with excitement and potential and the optimism of opportunity.

“I don’t,” she said. “It’s a long time ago...”

“It was today.”

“... for such an incidental moment.”

“I never really believed you,” he said, narrowing his eyes slightly, one hand going to his chest as if checking that his heart was still pumping. “I know we’ve spoken about it, and I’ve met you in those conversations as an equal. But every time, in my head, I’m saying to myself that you are obviously crazy or deluded. And I am waiting for the punch line or the revelation or the truth.”

She watched him, saying nothing, not admitting that she knew all this.

“But it’s true, all of it is true.”

“Yes,” she said simply. “It always has been. I am from the future, but I am stuck here until you get the Book of Doors.”

“The Book of Doors,” he said, murmuring the words to himself, his eyes slipping sideways to stare at the world outside.

“Shall we have some tea?” she asked, because Mr. Webber always liked to drink tea when he came back from his walks.

“Yes,” he said, fumbling for a smile. “That would be nice.”

Cassie returned to the kitchen feeling a little lighter, feeling as if Mr. Webber would be more of an ally now, rather than just a polite host. But her mind was also troubled by the thought of the younger version of herself being in the same city. As she made the tea, she wondered what would happen if they met. She wondered what she would look like to herself. She wondered if she could go see her younger self somewhere, to see what other people saw when they looked at Cassie Andrews. She remembered Drummond Fox seeing the younger version of himself in Bryant Park and how he had been struck by the experience.

“What are you going to do now, Cassie?” Mr. Webber asked, as she carried the tea over to him.

“Well, right now I am going to have tea with you,” she said, and he smiled as she sat on the windowsill again.

“I mean in general,” he said.

She shrugged. “I’m going to do what I’ve been doing for the past four years,” she said. “I am going to live and wait. I know that I will be here for some time. Either the Book of Doors will appear, or I will live long enough to arrive back to the future I left.”

“You are no longer actively seeking the book, are you?” Mr. Webber asked.

She looked away, an admission.

“Why?”

She equivocated. “I just realized that I am going to be here for a while. Some things started to make sense.”

Mr. Webber nodded as if he understood, but she knew him well enough now to know that he saw she was hiding something.

“Have you thought about what happens if you don’t find it? If it doesn’t appear?” Mr. Webber asked.

“I’ve thought about little else,” Cassie muttered. “It keeps me awake at night.”

Mr. Webber sighed. “I’ve enjoyed having you here, Cassie,” he said, looking into his cup. “It’s nice not to be alone. It’s nice that there’s life in this old apartment. After those first few days, I didn’t care that you were crazy or delusional.”

“So kind,” she said, smiling.

“But now I know that what you say is true.” He shook his head. “I can’t just sit by and take advantage of you like that.”

“You’re not taking advantage of me.” Cassie laughed. “Mr. Webber, I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along. I was homeless and penniless.”