Moonlight Over Manhattan(13)

“You know everyone.”

“We meet at medical conferences. It’s a surprisingly small world. What time will you be dropping off this dog?”

“On my way to the airport. I’ll walk her before I leave her with you, and we need to arrange for Harriet to meet you later. When works for you?”

None of it worked for him.

“Tonight? I’ll try and get away early.”

“Good. I’ll give her my key to your apartment in case you’re late, then she can go ahead and walk Madi. Practice saying her name, Ethan. Madi. Not ‘the dog.’ Madi.”

“I need to go. I have two hours to dogproof—sorry, I mean Madi-proof—my home.”

“You won’t need to. She’s very civilized.”

“She’s a dog.”

“You’re going to love her.”

Ethan doubted it. Life, he knew, was rarely that simple.





CHAPTER FOUR


“MRS. SULLIVAN?” HARRIET paused in the doorway of the apartment, the key in her hand, an array of bags at her feet. Her ankle throbbed, but not as much as it had a few days earlier. Hopefully that was a good sign. “It’s me! Harriet. Are you there? You didn’t answer the door and I didn’t want to make you jump.”

“Harriet?” Glenys Sullivan appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, holding tightly to a walker. “Harvey and I were worried about you, sweetheart. You’re late.”

“I’m moving a little slower today.” Harriet closed the door. She was worried about Glenys too. She’d lost weight since her husband had died ten months earlier and Harriet knew she was struggling. As a result she’d taken to dropping in whenever she was passing. And if sometimes “passing” meant taking a detour, that was fine with her. She didn’t often see her clients once the dog-walking arrangements were confirmed, so she enjoyed the interaction. “I took a bit of a tumble a few days ago and I’ve been off my feet. Silly me.”

Glenys had lived in the same sunny apartment on the Upper East Side for almost five decades, surrounded by her books, her furniture and her collection of china dogs.

“You fell? Is it icy out there?”

“Not yet, but it’s coming. They’re forecasting snow and my fingers are freezing. I need to find my gloves.” Harriet carried the bags through to the kitchen, ignoring the pain in her ankle. She’d rested it for a couple of days, icing it as the doctor had instructed. It still hurt but she was tired of being trapped in her apartment and she’d wanted to check on Glenys. “I didn’t want you to find yourself with an empty fridge. It’s crazy out there. People are clearing the shelves and we’ve had around four snowflakes so far.” She bent to make a fuss over Harvey, an eight-year-old West Highland terrier she’d been walking for two years. Often she handed walks to their reliable team of dog walkers, but there were a few she did herself and Harvey was one of them. He was sweet-tempered and smart. Harriet adored him.

“I remember the storm of 2006, we had twenty-eight inches of snow, but even that wasn’t as bad as the blizzard of 1888.”

Harriet straightened. “You weren’t alive in 1888, Glenys.”

“My great-grandmother used to talk about it. The railroads were blocked by drifts. Some of the commuters were trapped for days. You could walk across the East River from Brooklyn to Manhattan. Can you imagine that?”

“No. Hopefully it’s not going to be that bad this time, but if it is you’re not going to starve.” Harriet pushed the last of the canned food into the cupboard. “Did you eat lunch today?”

“I ate a big lunch.”

“Are you telling me the truth?”

“No, but I don’t want to worry you. Truth is, I wasn’t hungry.”

Harriet made a tutting sound. “You need to eat, Glenys. You have to keep your strength up.”

“What do I need strength for? I never leave this apartment. My bones aren’t fit for much.”

“Did you get to the doctor? Did you tell him your pain is worse?” She unloaded the bags into the fridge, automatically checking the dates on the few items already in there. She ditched a cheese covered in mold and some tomatoes that looked as if they were about to turn themselves into puree.

“He said the pain is worse because my arthritis is worse. He also said I need to keep moving. Which makes no sense. How am I supposed to keep moving if my arthritis is worse? They don’t know anything, these doctors.”

Harriet thought about the doctor she’d seen in the emergency room and the way other people had deferred to him.

He’d known plenty.

Dr. E. Black.

She wondered what the E stood for. Edward? Elliot?

She grabbed a carton of eggs and some fresh cheese and closed the fridge door. “If your doctor thinks you need to move, then you need to move.”

Evan? Earl?

“Easier said than done. I’m afraid my legs might give out on me. If that happened, I’d drop on the sidewalk and everyone would just step over me.”

“So you need to walk with someone you know. Like me. It would give you a little confidence to have someone to grab if you needed to.”

“You’re here to walk my dog. Not me. You’re a dog walker, not a human walker.”