slight adjustment.”
He complied, sighing.
“Okay, I’m done. Turn around.”
She handed him a snow globe. The shop had carried a variety of scenes-the Inner Harbor, the city’s skyline. But Tess had chosen the one of the Bay Bridge, and made a small alteration with a marking pen, inking a large red X toward the bottom.
“Remember, that’s where you are.”
“Where Adam Moss is.”
“Where Adam Moss is,” she amended. “How you’re going to keep from being recognized is beyond me. You don’t have a forgettable face, you know. One photograph of you and the new candidate-”
“I’m not the kind of operative who ends up in photographs, or yakking on CNBC. I’m from the old school. I stay in the background.”
The tote board’s tiles began turning, and the Northeast Direct showed “All Aboard” at Gate E. To Tess’s surprise, Adam began walking toward the stairs.
“I thought you were heading west-”
“I am. But I have someone to see in New York first.” Mysterious to the end. Adam Moss may change his name, but he’d never change his ways. Tess walked with him to the staircase, and down to the tracks, into the icy night air. She wanted to see him get on the train, wanted to know he was safely away. The train swept in, already full of holiday travelers. Intent on getting a seat, Adam pressed forward, not even saying goodbye.
“Hey, Joe-”
He turned at his new name. Good for him.
“Pick a better candidate this time, okay?”
“I couldn’t find a worse one, that’s for sure.”
epilogue
THE MOST SURPRISING THING TESS RECEIVED FOR Christmas was an eviction notice.
“I’m so sorry, Tesser,” Kitty said, after breaking the news at their holiday dinner. It was a small affair, just her, Tyner, Tess, and Crow. Tess’s parents had decided to go away for the holidays, given that it would still be months before their house was rebuilt. “But when I got the permits for the elevator construction, they found out about the apartment on the third floor and reappraised the property. My tax bill has gone up so much that I’m going to have to start charging a fair market rate for the apartment. To justify that, I have to make some improvements. You’re welcome to move back in, after the renovations, but I’ll understand if you think you can do better.”
“It’s not your fault,” Tess said, suddenly glad that Crow had remembered to put some dope in her Christmas stocking. It more than made up for his failure to find a local beauty supply store willing to part with its “Human Hair” neon sign.
But when Crow saw her rummaging for rolling papers after lunch, he proposed taking a drive instead.
“We can start looking for a new place for you to live,” he said. “Check out other neighborhoods. You’ve got to treat this as an opportunity.”
“On Christmas Day?” But there was nothing else to do, except digest turkey and sauerkraut, so she put on her coat, pulled Esskay’s new Christmas sweater over the dog’s head, and piled into Crow’s Volvo.
It quickly became apparent that the drive was much more targeted than Crow had let on. He headed north, into the funky little neighborhood they had found when trying to get to Thirty-fourth Street all those weeks ago. They never did make it to see the lights, she realized, feeling wistful for the holiday season that had passed her by. Next year, she resolved, work was going to be less consuming. There were worse things than divorce work and dumpster diving.
Crow turned up what appeared to be an alley, although it was marked with a street sign. East Lane. One side was bordered by the long, wide backyards of the large houses one street over, while the other side was a deep slope, with smaller houses and cottages hugging the hillside overlooking a wooded park.
“ Stony Run Park,” Crow said. “Named for the creek that runs through it.”
He stopped at a small dilapidated bungalow, which looked more like someone’s abandoned fishing cabin than a real house. Built into the side of the hill, it was virtually a tree house, with decks and screened porches taking up more square footage than the proper living quarters.
“Who lives here?”
“No one anymore. It’s for sale,” Crow said, taking a key from under an old milk box.
“I don’t see a sign,” Tess said.
“The real estate agent hasn’t listed it yet. He’s a friend of Tyner’s, said he’s going to put it on the market at the beginning of next year.”
“So Kitty has been planning to kick me out all along, and you knew it, and Tyner knew it, and you didn’t tell me?”
“We thought it would soften the blow if you had a place to land,” Crow said, letting her into the empty house. It had the feel of a place where no one had lived for a very long time. She liked that feel. It also had a neon sign that said “Human Hair” hung on the wall. Crow really did pay attention, she realized. He not only listened to her stated wants, he was capable of anticipating her desires as well, desires she had yet to form. She tried to find a downside to this, but failed utterly.
The house was perfect-or could be, with months of work. Walls would have to come down, the kitchen would have to be completely redone, the floors needed sanding and, given the water stains on the peeling wallpaper, a new roof was probably required as well. The window sashes were mushy from dry rot, the doors had swollen with humidity until they scraped the floor, mice droppings were thick in the corners. But all Tess could see was herself, here in the spring, surrounded by trees, living out a Swiss Family Robinson fantasy.
The moment she gave into the dream, she saw it slipping through her fingers. It hurt, wanting something this much, then realizing she could never have it.
“I can’t afford a house in this neighborhood.”
“It’s surprisingly cheap for Roland Park,” Crow said, “because it’s so small and in such bad shape.”
“No bank would give me a loan.”
“They will if you have a cosigner. And when the cosigner’s name is Dick Schiller, you’d be surprised at how easy it is to get money. He said he’d give you a personal loan at market rates, if it came to that.”
She wasn’t ready to give in, not yet. “It needs at least fifty thousand dollars’ worth of work. I don’t have that much cash, and I couldn’t do it myself.”
“I could,” her father said, stepping out of the rear bedroom. “I’m pretty handy, Tesser, in case you didn’t know.”
They eyed each other cautiously. Although they had spoken by phone after Dahlgren’s debacle, making halfhearted apologies and assuring each other there were no hard feelings, they had not seen each other since the night of the house fire. Her father was always at Spike’s place, working, when she stopped by the Catonsville rental that was the Monaghans’ temporary home. He was very busy, her mother assured her, and very happy. Tess had tried hard to believe both things were true.
“I thought you were away for the holidays,” she said, pushing up her sleeves so he might notice the gold watch on her left wrist. She didn’t really like it much-it felt prissy and delicate, after so many years of wearing a man’s Swiss Army wristwatch. But it told the time, it was reliable. If her father wanted to think a watch could make her more of a girly-girl, she was willing to go along with it.
“We were going to Deep Creek Lake, but Crow told me what he was up to when he stopped by the bar this week.”
“Crow was at the bar?”
“He’s a partner.” Her father smiled at her confusion. “Not a full one, just a little piece. He’s going to bring bands in on the weekends. Blues, he says, maybe jazz.”
She should have been pleased, but it unnerved Tess a little, this vast conspiracy to make her happy. She
