Your Perfect Year(49)

The headline of the Hamburg News once again appeared before Jonathan’s inner eye.

“They are,” he said. “But it’s a hassle—I don’t want to take up any more of your time.”

“No hassle. And time’s the one thing I have plenty of.”

Jonathan pondered for a moment longer, then accepted Leopold’s offer gratefully. He went home to fetch a flashlight from the cellar.

Leopold was waving out through the slot in the container as he returned. “Good. So what are we looking for?”

“A stack of papers covered in numbers.”

“Could you be a bit more specific?”

“Someone made a few notes here and there in red pen and highlighter.”

“Okay. Preparing to dive!” He vanished into the depths of the container. Jonathan leaned in as far as he could with the flashlight and lit up the area around Leopold.

“That’s good,” he said in a muffled voice, quickly followed by “Ugh!” A banana skin flew past Jonathan’s head, brushing his left ear. “People are such pigs, the things they throw in here!” Leopold muttered. Jonathan had to agree. Pizza boxes might be forgiven, but organic waste really did not belong here. He immediately felt a closer bond with his new acquaintance, who seemed to share Jonathan’s view of right and wrong.

“Is this it?” Leopold called out, waving a crumpled piece of paper through the slot. Jonathan took it and glanced at it.

“Yes,” he said with a relieved smile. “But only some of it.”

“Hang on, I can see some more.”

“Take care, now.”

“Take care?” Leopold said in a pained voice. “You’ve got me rummaging around in the trash for you and now you tell me to take care?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt in there.” Jonathan held back from pointing out that the whole thing had been Leopold’s idea.

“How many more pages to go?”

“I don’t know,” Jonathan replied. “Let me check; they’re numbered.” He pulled out the flashlight and held it over the pages.

“Hey!” Leopold complained. “Let there be light!”

“Coming right up. I can’t see what I’m doing without it.” Jonathan gripped the flashlight between his teeth and searched the crumpled sheets for page numbers. He saw 3 of 12 in the bottom-right corner of a page. He began to sort them. 1, 2, 3, 4 . . . 8, 9, 10, 12. “There are four pages still missing,” he called in to Leopold.

“So shine that light in here!”

Jonathan shone the flashlight back into the container, and Leopold crawled from left to right, rummaging through the paper and cardboard. “I hope this is really important.”

“It is,” Jonathan assured him.

“So what in God’s name is it doing in the recycling?” A plastic bottle whizzed past Jonathan’s head.

“A mistake,” he said as he ducked. “Can you . . . please could you look where you’re throwing things, or at least give me some kind of warning?”

“Sorry.” He could practically hear Leopold’s grin. “I’ll take care, promise.” A moment later, a cushion flew past, followed shortly by an “Oops!”

“You should keep that,” Jonathan joked and threw the cushion back. “It’ll make your night cozier.”

“I won’t be needing it,” Leopold replied. He poked his head through the slot and triumphantly held up four more crumpled pages. “I’d say I’ve earned myself a night somewhere warm.”

“Oh yes?” Jonathan asked, taking the pages gratefully. “Where’s that?”

Leopold grinned. “Guess!” He gestured with his chin toward Jonathan’s villa across the street.

“No!” Jonathan N. Grief wanted to cry out. “No way!”

But then he thought of Sarasvati’s advice. “Yes, of course, be my guest!”





24

Hannah

Fifteen days before:

Tuesday, December 19, 11:52 p.m.

When her friend rang the doorbell thirty minutes later, Hannah summoned all her energy and stumbled to the door to let her in. As soon as she saw Lisa, Hannah fell into her arms, sobbing.

“Hannah!” Lisa cried out in shock as she caught her. “What happened?”

Hannah cried harder, released by the security, wanting to be held like a little child who runs to Mama for comfort.

Lisa said, “I’m sorry it took me so long, but—”

“Shhh,” Hannah said, silencing her. She didn’t care how long it had taken, the main thing was that Lisa was with her.

“Will you tell me what’s happened?” her friend eventually asked, stroking Hannah’s hair. Lisa gently took hold of her arms and steered her into the little living room, where they sat together on Hannah’s wicker sofa, snuggled beneath a blanket.

Lisa listened without interruption as Hannah told her about the evening at Da Riccardo. The words tumbled out of her, streaming faster and faster from her mouth as though she’d opened a floodgate. She told Lisa about the cancer diagnosis the doctors had given Simon. About his conviction that he’d be dead in a year, and about his refusal to undergo further tests because he thought it pointless.