Before she left, I’d asked if she wanted me to join her for part of the trip. “If it was up to me, Alex, you could stay the whole time, but Gram’s possessive. It’s a ritual with her— ’special time’ with each of the grandkids.”

At thirty-nine, Allison was the youngest grandkid.

“Am I keeping you from anything?”

“Not a thing,” I said, wondering if that were true.

“Consults work out okay?”

“As good as can be expected.”

“So what else is up, baby?”

I deliberated telling her about Duchay’s call. “Nothing exciting. What time does your flight arrive?”

“That’s one of the reasons I’m calling. Gram asked me to extend my visit for another two weeks. It’s hard to tell her no.”

“She’s ninety-one,” I said.

“The rooms smell like camphor and I feel a hundred and twenty. I’m getting serious cabin fever, Alex. She turns in for bed at eight.”

“You could make snow angels.”

“I miss you,” she said.

“Miss you, too.”

“I was thinking maybe we can do something about it. Gram has a friend coming from St. Louis tomorrow so she’ll be occupied for three days. The hotels in New York are running a post–New Year’s special. Big discounts and free upgrades.”

“When do you want me there?” I said.

“Really?” she said.

“Really.”

“That’s great— you’re sure?”

“Hey,” I said. “I need special time, too.”

“Oh, boy,” she said. “You don’t know what you’ve just done for my spirits. Is there any way you could make it by tomorrow? I could take the train and be at the hotel by the time you arrived.”

“Which hotel?”

“When I traveled with my parents we always stayed at the St. Regis. The location’s perfect— Fifty-fifth off Fifth— and they’ve got butler service on every floor.”

“Nice touch, if the butler’s not intrusive.”

“He won’t be if we bunk in and never call him.”

“Which bunk do I get?” I said. “Upper or lower?”

“I was thinking more in terms of share-zies.”

“I’ll bring a flashlight and we’ll play pup tent.”

“Alex, it’s incredibly flexible of you to do this.”

“Not in the least,” I said. “I’m acting out of pure self-interest.”

“That,” she said, “is the best part.”

* * *

I booked a nine a.m. flight out of LAX, scrounged at the back of my closet for the gray tweed overcoat I never wore, found a similarly neglected pair of gloves and scarf, packed a carry-on, and went for a run.

Beverly Glen was seventy degrees and clear, let’s hear it for winter. Weather’s a trivial reason for living somewhere unless you’re honest.