I hesitated when she asked what she owed me. If I were to take her money, then I would be solidifying an employer–employee relationship. But if I did not take her money, then I still wouldn’t know if our friendship was purely one of convenience for her.

She’d been paying me to babysit Natalie and she wouldn’t have it any other way. However, I considered the photographs to be in a separate category. For one thing, I typically charged a lot for my photographic skills. And something told me that Amelia was looking for a deal. She would be put off if I said my price was fifteen hundred for the day. But I couldn’t devalue my work. It was all or nothing. I chose nothing.

In early February, Amelia and Fritz had a business trip. They were going to Rome for four days to meet with their biggest client. They asked me to stay with Natalie, and of course I agreed.

For those four days, each morning I made breakfast for Natalie and we walked to school together. Then I’d spend the majority of the day at my apartment, editing, if I didn’t have a shoot. The hours in my apartment were growing difficult, because my body and brain were becoming accustomed to the scale and light in the Straubs’ home, including the design of their windows and glass doors, which allowed the eye to borrow all the space outside their home as well. In the Straubs’ house, I had the freedom to stretch and run, metaphorically speaking, with no constraints, whereas, in my own apartment, I felt myself shrink and compress.

Amelia had told me Natalie was old enough to be in their house alone for a couple of hours in the afternoon, but I didn’t agree, so I made certain to return by four thirty, when Natalie arrived home, and often earlier.

I knew that Gwen, the tenant downstairs, was at work during the day and it was possible to enter the garden apartment without fear of being observed. I felt that someone ought to be keeping tabs on her. I’d noticed several odd patterns of behavior. For instance, at the foot of her bed was a blanket that she always rolled into a tight cylinder—an indication that she was tightly wound and might be a loose cannon.

Sometimes I would arrive as early as 2 P.M. so that I could take a nap in the bed downstairs. I slept so soundly in that bed. It was perfect for me. I’d been repeating the puddle-of-water trick at least once a week, along with rearranging Gwen’s clothing from time to time, just to keep her off-balance.