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On Wednesday morning I drop the kids at school, force myself to run, and then somehow find myself in the car headed south on I-95 toward the city. My intention is benign; I need to return the money that does not belong to me. And in returning that money, I will set off a chain of events wherein Weezie as his proxy will have to inform him that the money has been returned, triggering the memory of me in Leo’s mind. He will have no choice but to stop what he is doing and call me. Nora, he’ll say, I miss you so much, and your returning this money shows me just what a good and true person you are. I’ll be on the next flight . . .
Oh, also, I’ve gone completely insane. My second reason for delivering this money is that I definitely need a change of scenery. And by “change of scenery” I mean I need to see where he lives. Somehow this will help, I tell myself, coming to see his city life so that I can release him to it. Yes, this is a great idea.
I get off the FDR on Sixty-Third Street and head west. I find a parking garage on Sixty-Fifth and Lexington Avenue and decide to stop there so I can enter his neighborhood on foot. As I walk west the streets become less congested, though it always feels like it’s garbage day in Manhattan. I cross Park Avenue and look both ways, up and down the median. They’ve planted tulips in red and yellow, and I stop to take a photo.
Women pass me in heels I could never stand in. I look down at my peasant top, jeans, and sandals and think, When did I turn into Carole King? His apartment is between Madison and Fifth Avenues. The town houses that line both sides of the street are exquisite brick and limestone buildings, and I have a momentary feeling that I am trespassing. His is a prewar doorman building in the middle of the block. I loiter and wonder not for the first time how I got here.
I’m walking into the building through the narrow, gilded door and the doorman stands to greet me. “May I help you, ma’am?”
“Yes, I have something for Leo. Vance.” I indicate the envelope but don’t offer it to him. I realize that I’m not ready to leave. “Is Weezie here?”
“I believe so. May I have your name?”
“Nora. Nora Hamilton.” He dials and I am full of regret. I don’t have anything to say to Weezie, and there’s no reason for her to know I drove ninety minutes to see Leo’s apartment.
“She says to go right up. Just press PH in the elevator on the left.”
I’m grateful it’s not one of those elevators where the doorman has to ride with you to operate the thing. I press PH and take advantage of the mirrored wall and long ride to check my teeth and my overall bearing. Teeth are fine, but I’ve lost weight in just three days, and I look really tired.
The door opens into a small foyer with a marble table and an umbrella stand. There’s only one door to knock on and it’s already open. “Nora! This is so fun! What are you doing here?” Weezie is in her pajamas and has a bagel in her hand. “Come in. Come in.”
“I’m really sorry to drop in like this, but I had an appointment in the city so I thought I’d drop off the money in person.” Everything is marble and cream. Couches and chairs are arranged so that conversations won’t last more than twenty minutes. There is no place to get cozy. I scan the space for a personal photograph. This place belongs to no one.
“What kind of appointment?” she’s asking me.
“Hair,” I say too quickly and now she’s looking at mine, which has certainly not just stepped out of the salon. “I mean I’m going to an appointment. Gotta do something about this hair, right?”
“I think you look great. Kinda Carole King.” Oh my God. “It must feel so good to have your house back to yourself, especially after a surprise houseguest.” Weezie rolls her eyes and motions me into the kitchen. “Coffee?”
“Sure,” I say, because I want to see his coffee mugs. She hands me a white mug that’s straight out of a hotel restaurant. “This place is really stark. Does Leo spend a lot of time here?”
“Ha. He hates it too. Naomi’s decorator did the whole thing while they were in Saint Bart’s in January. He said ‘surprise me!’ and she really did. Naomi loved it but Leo kept saying he didn’t know where to sit. Still doesn’t.”
“I don’t understand,” is all I can say.
“He just didn’t grow up like this; he likes things a little more homey.”
“No, I mean about Naomi. Why were they away together? Filming?”