Wooden Christmas market stalls had appeared across the city, and Liv found one that sold cups of hot chocolate in many flavors. She bought a cherry and cinnamon one and wrapped her hands around the cup to warm them up.

When she reached Essie’s apartment block, the building blended against the gray-white sky so it didn’t look quite solid. It wasn’t going to be easy saying goodbye to the penthouse. It had provided her with an escape, inspiration and fantasy for three and a half years.

In the lobby area, a Christmas tree was topped with a huge angel who had feathered wings and a golden halo. Clusters of baubles were dotted around, and Liv peered at her distorted reflection in one that hung near the mailboxes. She looked pretty much the same as she did seven months ago, wearing a Rolling Stones T-shirt beneath her sweater. But she felt like a completely different person inside.

She took a few moments to think about everything she’d done since Essie passed away. She’d stepped out of her comfort zone to travel overseas on her own, met agents and publishers, completed writing Essie’s book, and made new friends. She’d found out things about her family she’d never have imagined, and felt even closer to them. Paperpress now had a better outlook and, most importantly, she and Jake had pressed the reset button on their relationship and were stronger for it. Liv looked forward to her own future.

She opened Essie’s mailbox and found nothing inside it. Leaving it open, she pocketed the key, ready to leave it in the apartment for its next owner. She sighed as she thought about other people moving into Essie’s home, not wanting to believe it was really happening. She was aware that each step she took across the lobby felt like a countdown.

Liv took the lift up to the thirty-second floor and enjoyed the floating feeling of rising up through the snowflakes as they flurried down.

She took off her boots in Essie’s hallway and stood with her hands on her hips. All the rooms had been stripped bare, so little soul or personality remained. Anthony had sourced agencies to handle the sale of Essie’s clothes and belongings. Any unbroken literary awards had been boxed and transported to the museum. The furniture was gone and had left imprints in the carpets, as if the author wasn’t quite ready to move on. Liv rubbed a socked foot along them, trying to smooth them out. She plugged in the vacuum cleaner and gave the rooms one last sweep.