I took the stairs, feeling somewhat silly and amused with myself. She was standing at the door, and I saw she was possessed of kind gray eyes, plump cheeks, and extensive smile lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes. She was smiling now, and her smile exuded warmth and welcome. A pair of glasses dangled from a cord around her neck. Her dress was light gray, with a large pocket across its center. Her shoes were brown and sensible. She had pulled her hair back in a bun, and her ears were studded with tiny silver earrings. She held herself with poise and elegance and extended her hand for me to shake much as a man would.

"Elena Warshavski."

"Adam Lapid."

I clasped her hand in mine, and she gave it a single resolute pump before releasing it.

"It's good that you've come," she said, eying me up and down and nodding once, as if in approval. "I've been sitting on my balcony for the past hour, watching you walk in and out of one building after the next, and I asked myself, Elena, what is this serious-faced man up to? And when is he going to come up here and tell me? But where are my manners? Come in, come in. Let's go sit on the balcony."

She led the way through a cozy living room to her sun-bathed balcony and gestured toward one of the two wicker chairs that stood by a round table, which carried a pitcher of lemonade, two glasses, and a plate of rugelach. My nose told me the rugelach were freshly baked. My mouth watered. I swallowed the excess saliva. Elena noticed and laughed.

"Go on. Take one. Or two. A big man like you—one would hardly suffice."

I took two rugelach and ate them with greater speed than good manners would tolerate. The outer shell was crispy, but the soft dough inside fairly melted on my tongue, filling my mouth with the taste of cinnamon and butter. Elena had dotted each rugelach with raisins, and these had puffed up in her oven, popping like hot balloons when I broke their skin with my teeth.

"Good, huh?" said Elena with obvious relish. "Here, try the lemonade."

She poured me a tall glass and I took a big gulp. The lemonade was tasty and cold and very sweet. I raised an eyebrow.

"You've either been saving up your sugar rations or you have a good black-market supplier."

Elena poured herself a glass and sat down. "Don't tell me you're one of those government hounds always sticking their snouts into other people's business."

"Do I look like one?"

"I wouldn't have invited you up here if you did. When I first saw you from my balcony, I thought you might be a salesman. But you weren't schlepping around a sample case or any merchandise I could see. Besides, you don't look like a salesman."

"What do I look like?"