“They are a mystery.” But then he spied a note on the table next to us and picked it up. “Ah. Aunt Cornelie. Uncle Cent’s widow. She says she also put fresh linens on the bed, and she will be gifting you her piano as a wedding present. The landlord must have let her in.”

The woman’s kind and generous gesture burrowed into my heart, a warm ember. “I must write her a thank-you note.”

Theo took my hand. “Tomorrow will be time enough, dearest.” He drew me farther into the apartment. “Let me show you the rest.”

We had two bedrooms. And everything was connected to everything.

“Goodness. We have no fewer than ten doors.”

“We can play hide-and-seek.” Theo grinned and pulled me into the larger bedroom where the bed waited covered in fresh linens indeed. More yellow-white daffodils greeted us from their cobalt-blue vase sitting on the bedside table. The pink walls showed off yet another half dozen vibrant paintings that celebrated life in all its colors.

“Dearest?” Theo reached for the buttons of my dress.

I trembled. “And if I disappoint?”

“I love you, Jo. I am going to love you forever.” He kissed me. “I know you’ll miss your family, but I promise you shall not be lonely. My friends will be your friends. Pissarro and his son are coming over to meet you tomorrow. And then Isaacson and the young Nibrig. Your brother and his wife are not far. Your friends can come to the World Fair and stay with us. And you’ll have me. I shall do my best to make you happy.”

In that light-filled room, surrounded by cherry blossoms, I let him pull me onto the covers.

Nothing was awkward. Or difficult. It was as if we’d always been together.

Happiness.

The following morning, I was truly a married woman. Even if I couldn’t, for the life of me, project a matronly air. No matter how many times I corrected the baker that I was a madame, the dratted man insisted on calling me mademoiselle.

Theo laughed when I complained. “May that remain your greatest problem, dearest.”

Fate did not grant his wish.

Difficulties came for us, lined up like joined train cars, one following the other. And fast.

Chapter Eleven

Emsley

My ringing phone startled me awake. I groaned and picked up the call blind.

“I have a few minutes before work,” a man I thought should be auctioned off to a roomful of PTA cougars for a school fundraiser told me. “Just checking if you’ve signed the papers yet. I could pick them up.”

I blinked my eyes open. It was Saturday morning. Stage-set bedroom. Car horns, police sirens, garbage trucks. New York.

Bram Dekker.

A groggy no was working its way up my throat.

“I’m outside. I brought you coffee and a bagel.”

“Okay.” I stumbled from the bed. The cougars would have to find other prey.