“How narrow-minded of you, tea.” Meena spoke aloud to no one as she shuffled through the box and found another packet that had a bag in it. As she steeped it in the hot water, Meena reread the note. What an odd person. It had to be Neha, she deduced. It was quirky enough to fit the woman who’d lived in this apartment, a woman who had mismatched mugs in odd shapes, a sugar jar in the form of a frog with the top of its head serving as the lid.
With tea in hand, she went back to the living room and added the sleeve with the note to the envelope holding the index card. She grabbed the quilt from the back of the sofa and gathered it over her lap. It was soft, and she could feel the unevenness of the stitching. Someone had made this, not with a machine but with a needle and thread. Perhaps Neha had been a quilter, a crafter. Maybe it had been a gift to her from someone.
The chill in the air was comfortable. The quiet settled around her. No street sounds of cars or people. It didn’t even feel as if she were in a major city. For a few minutes she could breathe, appreciate that in this moment she wasn’t chasing a story, preparing, traveling, or shooting. She was simply here, in this quiet house. Gifted to her by a stranger.
Likely from her past.
Meena reached for her phone, then remembered it was broken. She’d have to take care of it in the morning. She woke her computer and opened the video chat to call Zoe, her only constant in life since they’d met as roommates at George Washington University their freshman year. It was a little after eleven o’clock on a Friday night in London, which meant Zoe was either out or just getting home.
“Where are you?”
That was how Zoe always answered Meena’s calls.
“Boston,” Meena said.
“Assignment?”
Meena saw Zoe’s face through the screen. Her makeup was still perfect, winged eyeliner and deep-red lipstick. Zoe knew exactly how to enhance the beauty of her Mediterranean genes.
“No.” Meena chewed on her lip. “Personal.”
“Well, I hope it’s a vacation,” Zoe said. “You haven’t had a proper break since last Christmas—oh, wait, I mean the Christmas before that, since you missed last year because you were chasing reindeer in Lapland.”
“And this is a not-so-subtle reminder that you still haven’t forgiven me for missing your annual pre-Christmas dinner.”
“And that you will not miss it this year,” Zoe said. “How long are you there?”
“Not sure. It was only supposed to be for a few hours, but things got a little complicated.”
“You met a man? Is that why you’re cuddled on a garish yellow sofa?”
Meena laughed. Zoe loved romance. “No.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
“Someone left me an apartment in their will.”
“Wow, really?” Zoe’s pencil-thin eyebrows shot up. “Who?”
“A woman I never knew. I don’t even know how she found me. It’s a great location and the building is nice. The place is fully furnished, clean, and lived in.”
“And there was no explanation?”
Just a vague index card. “No.”
“How did she die?” Zoe asked.
“No idea,” Meena said. “I asked the lawyer, but she was the buttoned-up type. It was mostly Sign here, here, and here. She wouldn’t even tell me anything about Neha. Like, Here’s what you need to know, let us make sure you are who you are, and there’s the exit.”
“Sounds like an episode of The Living and the Dead,” Zoe said.
“You watch too much television.”