“When I was in middle school, my father got hit with a huge malpractice judgment. A patient responded badly to a sedative during a dental procedure, a one-in-a-million reaction. My mother asked Violet for help. Violet said she’d already pledged the entire profit from her last show.”

“I’m your daughter!” had been my mother’s argument. Violet had responded with “Are you saying you need that money more than people with AIDS who are homeless?”

“Anyway, my father appealed the verdict and won, but Mom never forgave Violet. I’m sure she would have bailed us out if the situation had become a true emergency.”

“Were you angry with her at the time?”

“I idolized her. I daydreamed about my parents having to downsize to a one-bedroom apartment so they’d be forced to send me to live with her. I built this elaborate fantasy life in New York. Eloise at the Plaza all the way. I had a schedule worked up of all the celebrities I wanted to meet. I had questions prepared.”

“You wanted to be an interviewer?”

“I wanted to be a star, like Violet.”

“Ambitious. My fantasy at that age was owning all the Star Wars action figures.” Bram checked his watch. “I have a meeting across town. I should probably be going. Do you have the signed papers?”

Time to confess.

“I opened the door under false pretenses. I was desperate for the coffee and the bagel.” I dug the UPS envelope out from under my pile of old letters. “I’ll sign right now.”

“Have you read it?”

“Sorry. Yesterday was a long day. I fell asleep.”

He gave an easy smile as he stood. “I’ll stop by again tomorrow.”

I walked him downstairs.

He left with a smile and a wave.

I was about to close the door when a delivery truck pulled over. The driver dropped off a pile of flattened moving boxes without saying as much as a Hey. I dragged them inside and locked the door behind me.

Boxes—check.

Caffeine—check.

No reason not to dive into packing.

My phone rang upstairs, and I raced up three flights.

Morning exercise—check.

“I have some news,” Beatriz the Realtor told me. “I’m not sure if it’s good or bad. I had a call from the buyer a few minutes ago. He saw Violet’s obituary in the Times. He wants to move settlement forward to the end of May.”

“Why?”

“He always wanted a fast settlement. Violet requested the ninety days. I thought maybe she wasn’t ready to let go. Or maybe because your mom broke her hip, and Violet knew how busy you were. Maybe she wanted to give you as much time as she could for packing up the place. Can I say yes to the buyer?”

“Tentatively, yes. I think I can do that.”