“Uh-huh,” she said.

“We just found out . . . I just found out that my father hadn’t been faithful to his wife, and, and I wondered what your relationship with him was.”

As Harry spoke the words, a deep flush of red spread across Grace’s face.

“What do you mean you just found out?” she asked.

“I just found out that my father was having an affair with someone here in town.”

She shook her head rapidly. “He wasn’t.”

“I think you need to tell me what’s going on.”

She exhaled, and rubbed at an eye with the heel of her palm. “I was involved with your father. Down in New York. Who told you he was having an affair here?”

“My stepmother.”

“Alice?”

“Right. She said he was involved with a married woman who worked at the store, and she thinks that the woman’s husband might have had something to do with my father’s death.”

Grace was shaking her head again.

“Look,” Harry said. “Just tell me what the fuck is going on. Stop shaking your head.”

Grace lifted her head and met Harry’s eyes. In the lamplight of the room her eyes looked more green than blue.

“Okay,” she said, and took a breath. “You know how your father used to come down to New York all the time to visit his old store?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I know Ron, the owner of the store. He owns the apartment I rent.”

Harry was about to tell her he already knew that, but let it go. He wanted to hear the whole story first.

“I used to help out in the bookstore a little bit. That’s how I met your dad, about two years ago. This was right after Hurricane Sandy, and the store’s basement flooded and wrecked a bunch of books. Your father came down to help out.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Harry said.

“I was helping out as well, and we spent a lot of time together. Ron was pretty useless—you know Ron—and two of the employees couldn’t even get into Manhattan that week, so it was just us. And, basically, I fell in love with your father.”

She paused, and Harry said, “Okay.”

“I know it sounds strange.”

“It’s just that the age difference . . .”