Alan. Putting his things away. The rattle of hangers as he made room for himself, shoving Elliot’s clothes farther back into the closet. Or worse, trying them on. Beautiful Elliot’s beautiful clothes.

At two in the morning, he came and stood outside her bedroom door. He said softly, “Lindsey? Are you awake?”

She didn’t answer and he went away again.

In the morning he was asleep on the sofa. A DVD was playing, the sound was off. Somehow he’d found Elliot’s stash of imported pocket-universe porn, the secret stash she’d spent weeks looking for and never found. Trust Alan to turn it up. But she was childishly pleased to see he hadn’t found the gin behind the sofa cushion.

When she came home from work he was out on the patio again, trying, uselessly, to catch her favorite iguana. “Be careful of the tail,” she said.

“Monster came up and bit my toe,” he said.

“That’s Elliot. That’s what I call him. I’ve been feeding him,” she said. “He’s gotten used to people. Probably thinks you’re invading his territory.”

“Elliot?” he said and laughed. “That’s sick.”

“He’s big and green,” she said. “You don’t see the resemblance?” Her iguana disappeared into the network of banyan trees that dipped over the canal. The banyans were full of iguanas, leaves rustling greenly with their green and secret meetings. “The only difference is he comes back.”

She went to get a take-out menu. Or maybe Alan would come down to The Splinter with her. The door to Elliot’s room was open. Everything had been tidied away. Even the bed had been made.

Even worse: when they went down to The Splinter, every time someone sat down next to her, Alan made a game of pre tending that he was her boyfriend. They fought all the way home. In the morning he asked if she would lend him the car. She knew better, but she lent him the car just the same.

Mr. Charles knocked on her office door at two. “Bad news,” he said. “Jack Harris in Pittsburgh went ahead and sent us two dozen sleepers. Jason signed for them. Didn’t think to call us first.”

“You’re kidding,” she said.

“ ’Fraid not,” he said. “I’m going to call Jack Harris. Ask what the hell he thought he was doing. I made it clear the other day that we weren’t approved with regards to capacity. That’s six over. He’s just going to have to take those six right back again.”

“Has the driver already gone?” she said.

“Yep.”

“Typical,” she said. “They think they can walk all over us.”

“While I’m calling,” he said. “Maybe you go over to the warehouse and take a look at the paperwork. Figure out what to do with this group in the meantime.”