Chapter 24: Hale Street at Dawn

He knocked at five, and he wasn't alone.

Hal stood one step behind him on the landing, in a gray overcoat, holding a leather folder against his chest.

"Good morning, Miss Deming," Hal said. "I apologize for the hour. I'm only the witness."

"Witness to what?"

"Sir?"

Ansel took the folder and opened it on my kitchen table.

The first page was the lease. Ten years, full rent, my name on every line.

"It's signed," he said. "My signature. Yours is the empty box."

"I told you I'd sign it."

"You did. I wanted you to see the rest first."

He turned the page.

It was a printed calendar, one week, in tidy columns.

Every day began with a block of blue at five o'clock. Under it, in Hal's small hand, was written: HALE STREET. DO NOT BOOK.

"I moved the Monday board meetings to eleven," Ansel said. "The Asia calls are Tuesday and Thursday, from the car."

"You can't do that."

"I did it on Friday. The board cried a little, I think. Hal says it was the quarterly figures."

"It was the quarterly figures," said Hal gravely.

I looked up at Ansel.

"Why are you showing me this?"

"Because the question I asked at the grave," he said, "I'm asking in daylight, with the paperwork."

He took a breath.

"There's room in my life for nothing but you, Anneliese. I'd like to ask if there's room in yours."

Behind him, Hal turned to study the refrigerator with fierce attention.

I picked up the pen.

I signed the lease on the line.

Then I set the pen down and took his face in both hands.

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