Chapter 22: Gemma Moves In

Justine's POV

Gemma moved in on a Wednesday, with the cat, eleven cardboard boxes, and a drafting table that took three people to get up the stairs.

Donovan carried the table with Sergio, who had turned up in jeans and said only that his mother had told him to.

Nobody mentioned the party.

Sergio carried boxes for an hour, said "I'll do the next one, too," and was still there at noon.

I did not forgive him, and I did not tell him to leave.

Gemma took the second bedroom, the one with the window onto the fire escape.

She set the cat down on the floor, and the old grey tabby walked three slow circles and lay down in the middle of the bare boards.

"That's his approval," Gemma said. "It's the best you'll get."

She had a frayed felt mouse in her coat pocket, and she tossed it onto the floor.

The cat did not look at it.

Then he put one paw on it and held it down.

"He's home," she said, and had to sit down on a box.

By two the drafting table was by the window, and the kitchen smelled of the sauce Dario's mother had sent over in a glass jar.

I was labeling a box that said GEMMA, KITCHEN when the buzzer rang.

I pressed the speaker.

"Yes?"

"It's me," said a heavy voice. "Gemma's father. I'd like to speak to my daughter."

I looked at Gemma.

She was standing very still in the doorway of her room, with a paintbrush in her hand.

"Tell him I'll come down," she said.

I went with her.

Donovan came too, and stood a step behind us on the stairs.

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