Page 62 of Nobody's Fool

I am wondering this as I use my key to open the door of my (thankfully) rent-controlled apartment. I am surprised when I hear voices coming from my kitchen. One, of course, belongs to Molly. The other, I see as I come closer, is Victoria Belmond’s. Victoria sitsacross the table from my wife. They are having tea. Molly takes tea seriously. She makes it fresh, buying the ingredients from a local farmer’s market or growing specific herbs on our windowsill. She takes her time. She knows how to perfectly bruise the mint by rolling it between her fingers. She uses wooden spoons, not metal ones. She times how long she steeps, usually twelve minutes. She has a muddler to crush the leaves. We have infusers, strainers, airtight canisters, a variety of kettles.

Both women turn to me at the same time. I don’t like myself for what I think first. You will judge me for it, but hey, warts and all, right? My first thought—and I’ll defend myself by saying the thought was fleeting and instinctive and not considered—is that these two women are beautiful and that I’ve made love to both. There you go. Sorry not sorry.

Under any other circumstances, I would probably preen.

Molly speaks first, stating the obvious. “We have a visitor.”

“I’m sorry,” Victoria says. “I should have called, but if I did, I worry I’d lose my nerve.”

“It’s okay.”

Molly says that, not me. She reaches a comforting hand across the table and puts it on Victoria’s forearm. Victoria’s hands are wrapped around the teacup as though she needs warmth. She looks up and gives my wife a grateful smile. Molly keeps her hand there another second or two, then rises.

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” Molly says.

“No, don’t go,” Victoria replies. “In fact, it may help if you stay.”

Molly isn’t sure how to respond to that. She looks at me. I’m not sure how I feel about it, but I nod that it’s okay. She slowly sits back down.

We fall into silence. There is a chair in the corner of the room. I’m tempted to pull it up and sit with them, but right now I feel betterstanding. I don’t know whether I should start or give Victoria space. A few seconds pass. Victoria uses both hands to bring the tea to her lips. We give her time and space. When she puts the cup back down, she turns to me.

“I don’t know you,” she says.

I say nothing. She didn’t come all this way to tell me only that. So I wait.

“Or at least, I don’t remember you. But there is something… I’m not sure of the term. It’s not déjà vu. But there’s something… familiar. There is something drawing me to you.” She smiles awkwardly and shakes her head. “I’m not saying this right.”

Molly puts her hand back on Victoria’s forearm. “You’re doing fine.”

“I don’t mean drawn to you in that way. I mean, and this will sound weird, like the opposite. Like I could offer you some kind of comfort. Does that make any sense to you?”

They both look at me and wait. I swallow, not sure what to say to that. I try to take it step by step. “You came to my class the other night.”

“Yes.”

“Could you tell me why?”

Victoria Belmond stares down at the teacup. “I saw your photo in the news. It was a story on how you’d been fired and how a killer was going to be freed because of your misconduct.”

Molly leans back in her chair as something clicks for both of us. We’d tried to find the connection between Tad Grayson being released and “Anna” showing up in my life again. Now we had it.

“Anyway, once I saw your photo, I kept coming back to it. Like it was calling out somehow. I also kept thinking—and again, don’t take it the wrong way—but I liked your face.” She sees my expression. “What?”

“That’s what you said back then,” I tell her. “The first time we met.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“You said we met in a nightclub in Spain.”

“In Fuengirola,” I say. “A place called Discoteca Palmeras.”

“And when we met, I said that I liked your face?”

“Yes. You said it had character.”

Molly smiles. “I totally get that. It does, doesn’t it?”