The door of the first-floor flat opens and a woman comes out. She’s carrying a casserole dish and she heads right for me. I don’t know her, but she’s dressed in a tracksuit that emphasizes her ampleness, big hair caught up in a topknot, Crocs on her feet. She is comfortingly like the women I knew growing up, big and generous, a little loud but kind. I can smell the cigarette smoke on her.

“Are you Justine?”

“Yes.”

“I heard about your dad. I’m so sorry. I made you this.” My new friend hands me the still-warm casserole. I can smell tuna and cheese, and suddenly I’m so hungry, I could sit down and eat all of it.

“Thank you so much. I think Adele is at Paul’s. Do you mind if I take your dish there?”

“Not at all. Just leave the dish on the porch when you’re through with it. Don’t even wash it.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Diane Santos. We’ve lived in that house for ten years. Your dad was so good to us. I’m going to miss him.” Unbelievably, she actually tears up, adding to my impression that she, like so many of the women I knew around here, keeps her emotions handy.

“I don’t know what the arrangements are yet, but please come if you can.”

She presses a hand to my hand. “I will. And if there’s anything…”

“I’ll let you know.”

Diane leaves me standing on the walk with the warm casserole in my hands. She turns and waves as she goes back into her house, into the very apartment I once lived in with two parents. I’m almost tempted to ask if I can go inside, see if there is anything there that will give me one more memory of my early life.

I walk inside and put the casserole on the counter. The delicious and familiar odor of my favorite comfort food wafts up, and I yank open the silverware drawer and pull out a fork. I’ll just have a little. I’m still buzzed from the long drive and from my encounter with Artie. I can’t keep the image of my dog dead on the side of the road out of my mind. I need a moment to regroup before heading over to Paul’s and the fresh drama that awaits me. I have no doubt that they will be royally pissed that I disappeared for half the day on the day that my father died.