Taller and leaner than she’d thought initially, her perspective obviously distorted during her first high-above sight of him. Straight on like this, he seemed to take up the whole doorway, the definition of his chest more apparent in the long-sleeved T-shirt he wore, sleeves pushed up, and neither of his hands lifting to his not-startled heart. Instead, they stayed tucked into the front pockets of his loose, faded jeans, everything about his body as casual and comfortable as could be.

She decided that he was, in fact, smirking, a smirk to match his stance, and also a smirk that went obnoxiously nicely with his still very attractive face: wind-machine hair, thick and deep brown to complement dark eyebrows and lashes that would probably cost her at least a hundred and fifty bucks at Sephora, because there was no justice for women in this world. Maybe she would’ve noticed the color of his eyes, but the fact was, she was too preoccupied by the final betrayal in this balcony-to-basement transformation:

He wasn’t wearing his glasses.

She’d really liked those glasses.

“You,” she said without thinking, her face heating immediately at the way it sounded to her own ears: a monosyllable that didn’t so much express her disdain as it did her sense of injury, of heart-piercing disappointment. The letter in her hands felt heavy, outsized.

He didn’t respond, other than a slight falter to his smirk, and before she could think of anything else to say, he was moving past her, his arm outstretched, his expression transforming into a full, disarming, totally charming smile, and she almost groaned when she realized he’d known exactly where to aim it for maximum tension-diffusing effect.

“Hi,” he said to Mrs. Salas, offering his hand. “I’m Will Sterling.”

“Oh my,” she said, taking it. General Hospital was her favorite show.

“You must’ve been hearing about me,” he said, with a self-deprecating chuckle. He’d somehow managed to shape his body toward her, a curve in his spine that Nora could tell was natural to him, a bedside-manner bend that reminded her of the care workers who’d come at the very end for Nonna.

When he shifted to Mr. Salas, he both maintained it and made it look different; he said, “Hey, I’m Will,” and raised his eyebrows just so at Mr. Salas’s firm handshake, who might as well have said Oh my himself for all the flattered surprise he seemed to take in Will’s reaction.

Nora had to concentrate on not rolling her eyes.

He started to move toward Marian and Emily, and Nora finally found her voice. “I’ve pretty much already introduced you, via your letter,” she said, her voice like ice, and it seemed to blow over the room—all at once her neighbors seemed to remember her and themselves, shaking off their distraction at the new arrival.