Sarah answered her door wearing a black angora sweater and winter-white wool trousers with black suede pumps. At her throat was a necklace of gleaming pearls that I took for the real thing. I thought of myself as someone who loved clothes, but I realized I was at the foot of a true master. “You look like you’re going out,” I said quickly. “I just wanted to say thank you for last night…”

“They’re lovely.” Sarah took the bouquet from my extended hand. “That is so thoughtful of you, Lily. You didn’t have to do a thing.” She smiled at me. Last night’s adventure wasn’t showing on her. “Won’t you come in?”

“Thank you.” I stepped inside and shrugged off my coat, which Sarah hung in the closet. Her apartment faced Rivington, but it didn’t get much more light than my sister’s. All of these old tenements dwelled permanently in the shade.

“Can I get you a drink?” Sarah asked.

“I don’t want to be any more trouble.”

“You’re not.” She smiled at me sweetly. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.” She disappeared with the bouquet.

I set the bag from Roni-Sue on the glass-topped table and looked around the room. Mrs. Felesky had filled it with colorful memorabilia from her days as a showgirl, with every flat surface covered by framed photographs. Sarah’s apartment was stylish black-and-white Spartan. There was little furniture, and nothing on the walls except for a pair of mirrors in etched Venetian glass. I remembered sitting in a clear Lucite chair the night before; now that I was no longer dazed, I realized Sarah had a pair of Louis Ghost chairs, the famous Philippe Starck design that replicated the silhouette of a Louis XVI design. Everything in the room was opulent but understated, much like Sarah herself. I’d wondered why someone who could afford an Hermès Birkin bag lived in such a down-at-the-heels building, but I understood as I looked around. Sarah had impeccable taste but limited funds, and she knew how to spend money for maximum effect. It hit me, just before she came back in, that there were no bookshelves and no books.

“I hope that you’ll enjoy this, Lily,” she said, handing me a faceted crystal tumbler filled with clear liquid.

I took a drink. “Coconut water? I love it.” I’d first tasted coconut water when I’d visited Trinidad. In New York, most people thought that I was asking for coconut milk, which was entirely different. “I haven’t had this since I moved to Spain.”

“I discovered it while on holiday in Trinidad,” Sarah said. “Believe it or not, Fresh Direct delivers it now.”