“I don’t know how long I’ll need the room,” he warned.
“We won’t rent by the week.” Her voice got defensive, and she was still clutching his hat and his coat. “Only by the month. And we need at least a month’s notice if you want to leave. We’ll keep the deposit too. For cleaning and . . . and . . .” Her voice faded off.
She was new to this, he could tell. He stepped forward and took his things from her arms.
“That’s fine, miss. The six months is yours to keep, even if I leave next week. And I’ll give notice when I go.”
“That’s very kind of you,” she said on an exhale. “But . . . I hope you won’t leave so soon.” Her cheeks pinked again, and she took off her spectacles and tucked them into the pocket of her dress.
“It’s a nice room,” she continued, her eyes averted. “The biggest in the house. We typically use the bathroom down here during the day when we are in the shop or the sewing room, but now that you are here, we will go upstairs. It will be for your use alone.”
“Won’t that be difficult for the woman with the cane?” he asked, tossing his coat and hat across the bed so he could fiddle with the radiator in the corner. It hissed and clanked but seemed to be in working order.
He was freezing. There was a small stack of wood in the fireplace, and the tinderbox beside it looked full as well. He would need it.
“Zuzana is very able,” Daniela answered belatedly, and he had to remind himself what they were talking about.
“Feel free to continue using the bathroom downstairs. I hardly need a private bath during the day.”
“That is very gracious of you. But in the evenings, we will stay upstairs.”
“All right.”
“Will the room do, Mr. Malone?” she asked.
He nodded, his eyes taking another quick run around the space. “Yes. It’ll do nicely.” The proprietors themselves might take some getting used to, but he liked the room very much, and he could avoid them.
“I will get my belongings from my car. If I need something, I will ask. But I’m guessing you will hardly know I’m here.”
Daniela nodded and folded her hands, but she made no motion to depart. He took a few steps toward the door, hoping she would get the hint that he was through with her.
She was studying him intently, her hands clasped in front of her, her jaw tight. It was as if she was waiting for something.
Her eyes were different colors. The left one was blue. The right one was brown.
She kept her gaze steady, allowing him to stare, and stare he did. He’d only seen such a thing once before . . . but he was being rude. He looked away, embarrassed, and grabbed his coat and hat from the bed.
“I’ll just get my things from my car and pull it off the street. If you’ll excuse me, Miss Kos.”
“It’s Flanagan, Mr. Malone,” she said. “Not Kos. My name is Dani Flanagan. My aunts are named Kos. My mother was a Kos. But I am a Flanagan.”
“Flanagan,” he murmured. He looked at her again, and realization finally dawned, lighting his weary brain. All the little pieces became a picture.
“Dani Flanagan,” he gasped.
“You remember me, then?” Her mouth bore a hint of a smile, but her brow was furrowed.
“Yes. I do.”
“It’s been fifteen years. It would be quite understandable if you didn’t.”
“Fifteen years,” he repeated.
“Yes . . . to the day, actually. I met you fifteen years ago . . . today.” She swallowed, and a shadow passed over her face. “Now you might not think me so strange. You gave me a bit of a shock out there.”
To the day? Good grief. What were the odds of that?
“You look exactly the same,” she said.
“Well, you don’t!”
She laughed. “I hope not. I was ten years old. I’ll be twenty-five—”
“Tomorrow,” he finished for her. “You’ll be twenty-five tomorrow.”
“Yes.” The shadow was back. Her birthday marked a terrible loss. He couldn’t believe it. “Little Dani Flanagan,” he breathed.
“Yes. And Officer Malone.”
“Nobody calls me that anymore. I haven’t been a patrolman for a very long time.”
“Well, that’s how I always think of you.”
He cocked his head in question.
“I’ve thought of you often since then, and with great fondness.”
“I can’t imagine why. I would think you’d try not to think of me at all.”