Tristesse ignored the gesture. “About Bobby,” she said. “You want him, I can tell. Why you do, beats the shit out of me. I'll admit he's sexy, but so are a million other guys, and a chick who looks like you, who can afford steaks from ‘21,’ isn't exactly going to have a hard time meeting people of the masculine persuasion. But hey, each to her own poison is what I say. And if I were you …” She paused to reach into a pocket of her pants, pull out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, and extract one. “I wouldn't let him know that you showed up trying to feed him and went crazy when you couldn't find him.” She lit the cigarette. “With Bobby, you want to play it mellow. You dig?”

And Rose did dig. Bobby must never know she missed him. Or—God forbid—that she needed him. It had been stupid to come to his apartment with her little steak dinner and her little-girl dreams. It had been worse than stupid.

“I understand,” she said to Tristesse. “And when you see Bobby, please don't tell him—”

“Sister, my lips are sealed. We girls gotta stick together.” She opened her arms and for a terrible moment Rose thought she wanted a hug. But then Tristesse stretched and started scratching the small of her back.

“Thank you,” Rose said. “Thank you.” Then she fled.

It wasn't until she was on her way home in the cab that Rose wondered how she was going to play it mellow when she still didn't know where he was in New Haven. Or if he was having sex with someone.

The next day, she went to the Catholic church in their neighborhood and prayed to St. Jude, the patron saint of lost causes, for help. She bought the saint's medal and put it on a chain around her neck. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Chapter 24 - New York 1962

WHETHER IT WAS an intervention from St. Jude or just Rose's reward for not going crazy, Bobby called two days later. And with her newfound wisdom she didn't even ask where he was. “Hello, stranger” was what she said. Her tone was light, and just a little amused—if you couldn't see her, you'd imagine that her tongue was planted firmly in her cheek.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “You're not mad?” Bobby asked. Rose could hear how pleased he was; obviously tongue in cheek was the right choice.

“The thing is,” he went on, “I started working and I got stuck and I knew I had to go back to the character's roots. Lu's roots. I got all wound up in subletting the apartment and trying to find a place to live in New Haven …”

“So that's where you landed.” Was that light enough?

“I know I was wrong not to tell you,” he said.