“Why didn’t you take the dog back to your own apartment?”
“It was Griff’s apartment. Until we broke up. Griff and his ex-wife, who you just had the pleasure of meeting, got back together, and she wanted to live there. He gave me only a few days to move out, and I was desperate. It’s a temporary solution.”
“You haven’t spoken with Darby since she left, right?”
“Right.”
“Does she know you’ve been holing up here?”
She took a deep breath. “Not yet.”
He rubbed his chin. “I hate to ask this, but how exactly did you get all of your information? The book of spices, the letter, that kind of thing.”
Without thinking, she glanced at the bookshelf.
“You went through her belongings?” His eyes widened with shock. “You’re living in a woman’s apartment, squatting. If she comes back and finds you, she could call the police. You’re trespassing. And snooping.”
“I wish I could explain. But I feel this strange connection with her.”
“With an eighty-year-old woman you’ve only met in passing? That makes no sense.”
“I know, none of this does.” Her words tumbled out. “But I’ll be out of here before she returns. I’m moving into my friend Maddy’s apartment. I’ll take Bird with me and leave Darby a note. When she calls, I’ll explain everything. And she’ll be so grateful that I took care of her dog, she’ll agree to be interviewed and we’ll have a truly tremendous story. And if my hunch is correct and the woman who calls herself Darby is actually Esme in disguise? Can you imagine how huge that would be?”
He took a deep breath, his broad chest rising and falling. “What about this scenario: She comes home, finds out that you have the dog, and considers what you’ve done is a major invasion of privacy, not to mention dognapping, and turns you in to the cops.”
“I have Stella to back me up, that I helped out in a pinch. And what’s going to happen to me? I’ll get fired? Too late for that.”
“Never mind getting fired. What about the ethics of what you’re doing? What if someone did this to you? It’s criminal, no question about it.”
“No.” She punched the word. “The story is much more than that.”
“In what way?”
“It’s about losing the people you love, being alone in a big city with nothing more than the four walls of your apartment to protect you. Ending up lonely and bitter with no one around.”
“This isn’t a Grimms’ fairy tale, Rose. Darby, or Esme, whoever she is, made her choices, from what it sounds like. We don’t know what she got involved in. But she wasn’t an innocent. Whatever happened up on that terrace in 1952 was tragic, but not unavoidable. Heroin, drugs, informants. They were involved in some serious shit.”
God, he was right. His words sunk in with a bitter force. She’d deluded herself these past weeks, crossing lines and making bad judgment calls about a series of events that had nothing whatsoever to do with her.
But there was no going back now. Rose stood. “Everything you say makes sense, Jason. But I want to find out exactly what happened. I have to.”
“Why? So you don’t end up the same way? A crazy old lady with no friends, living in a dingy, rent-stabilized apartment?”
It was as if the wind had been knocked out of her. “That was cruel.”
He softened, only slightly. “I get it. With your father being so ill, with everything you’ve been going through, I understand why you might be inclined to fixate on this woman. But you shouldn’t. It’s not healthy. Maybe Darby-slash-Esme is off on a beach in Tahiti, sipping rum punches with her sixty-year-old lover.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you think you could be overcompensating for what happened to you at the network?”
She bristled at his presumption. “No. Of course not. These are two different stories.”
“Maybe. But hear me out. Before, you were afraid to go forward because you didn’t have all the information.”
“Yes. I waited, but the story got away from me anyway. Maybe if I’d shown some guts, like Gloria, I wouldn’t have been made the scapegoat. Maybe I should have been more willing to go out on a limb.”
“And so that’s what you’re doing here. You’re being aggressive, pushing boundaries and rules in order to get the full story. But you may never have it. This old lady, whoever she is, may never tell you what really happened. Maybe the unfinished business between Sam and Esme and Darby should stay that way.”
“I don’t think so. I want to put the pieces of the puzzle together. For Darby’s sake.”
“Esme’s sake.”
“You know what I mean. Don’t you want to find out what happened?”
“I do, but I’m not about to go breaking the law to do it. Tyler was right to kill the story.”
“Tyler’s an idiot. This story has legs.”
“You’re not much smarter than he is right now, as far as I can see.”
“Very nice.” Rose gritted her teeth. She didn’t have to take this. She’d had enough of men telling her what to do and when to do it.
“I can’t believe you don’t see what a tightrope you’re walking on.” Jason had turned red; a vein pulsed on his forehead. “You’re way too caught up in the story. Step back, take a break. And move out of here now.” He held his hands out, palms facing out. “If you don’t, I’m done.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t want anything to do with this. You’re digging yourself into a huge hole. You need to move out of here and get on with your own life.”
If only there was a life to move on to.
At seven thirty that evening, while reading out loud from Stephen Hawking’s latest, Rose looked up to discover her father had passed away. He gave no sign, no warning, not even a raspy breath. One moment he was there, and the next, he was gone. She was unprepared for the suddenness of the ending. The nurses said he’d been doing well that day, had opened his eyes once or twice. She’d pictured his death in her imagination already: He’d shift back into consciousness, focus on her, and even if he didn’t say a word, they’d have one last connection.
But that didn’t happen.
Maddy was by her side not long after receiving her anguished call, murmuring all the right things. Rose fell into her arms.
“I don’t know, did I do the right thing? Maybe I should have kept him in his home longer, moved in with him and found an aide to help during the day.” Had he been happy at all, in the recesses of his cloudy mind? She couldn’t say the thought out loud, and burst into tears.
Maddy handed her a tissue. “You did what had to be done, and he loved you dearly. Don’t second-guess yourself.”
“I can’t help it.” The full weight of his fear and confusion fell upon her with a brutal force. She didn’t do enough, she let herself get sidetracked by work and Griff. Just as her mother had disappeared one day, her father had as well.
All her life she’d been terrified that her father would disappear the way her mother had. That feeling had dissipated as she headed into her teens, but she’d replayed the same game with Griff. Hoping if she said the right thing or presented herself properly, he’d never abandon her.
But they all had, in one way or another. Stella was right. In the end, she was alone. Not even Jason would bother with her, now that he’d learned the truth about her craziness.
She wished she could disappear as well, leave all the pain and solitude behind. She imagined the fall off the terrace of the Barbizon. The drop would take mere seconds. A rush of air and then a burst of pain. Then nothing. What had gone through Darby’s mind during the descent? What were her regrets?
Rose’s were obvious. She regretted everything to do with her father. Each decision had been made carefully, but there was no way of knowing if any of them had been correct. He’d gotten sick, he’d fallen, he’d died. The narrative arc was all there. They might have happened no matter what she’d done. But she could have done more. She should have done more.