One Fifth Avenue

“Any outside interest in the apartment?” Enid asked casually.

“Not yet. But I’m sure there will be soon,” Mindy replied.

“Don’t forget about our interest,” Enid said pleasantly.

“How can I?” Mindy said. She strode out of the building ahead of Enid and Philip, fuming.

The memorial service was at St. Ambrose Church on Broadway and Eleventh Street. There was a snarl of traffic in front of the entrance; a cacophony of honking horns was followed by the wail of a siren as a police car tried to disperse the traffic.

Mindy put her hands over her ears. “Shut up!” she screamed. After this outburst, she felt a little better. She joined the crowd in front of the church, slowly shuffling their way in. She passed a line of police barricades, behind which stood the usual pack of paparazzi. When she reached the steps, she was stopped by a massive security guard. “Invitation?” he asked.

“I left it at home,” Mindy said.

“Step to the side, please,” the guard said.

“Mrs. Houghton was a very good friend. We lived in the same building,” Mindy said.

The security guard waved more people through, and Mindy took the opportunity to try to sneak in with the group ahead of her. The guard spotted her and stepped in front of her. “Move to the side, ma’am.”

Chastised, Mindy moved a little to her right, where she had the pleasure of seeing Enid and Philip Oakland about to pass her by. At the last second, Enid spotted Mindy and, wiggling through the crowd, touched Mindy on the arm. “By the way, dear, I meant to tell you. Sam was such a help yesterday with my computer. Thank God for young people. We old people couldn’t survive in this technological world without them.”

Before Mindy could respond, Enid moved on, and Mindy’s irritation nearly reached the boiling point. Not only had Enid insulted her by implying that she and Mindy were in the same age category (“old,” Enid had said), but she had cruelly and deliberately left Mindy outside. Enid could have easily brought Mindy into the church, as no one said no to Enid Merle. Enid was what little girls called a fair-weather friend, Mindy thought, and planned to return the favor someday.

Strolling up Eleventh Street, Billy Litchfield spotted Mindy Gooch loitering on the edge of

the crowd. Providence, he thought happily. This could be nothing less than a sign from Mrs. Houghton herself that Annalisa Rice was meant to get the apartment. Billy had been hoping to introduce Annalisa to Enid Merle and, through Enid, to make her introduction into One Fifth. But Mindy Gooch, the head of the board, was a much bigger—though less glamorous—fish. Approaching her, Billy couldn’t help thinking, Poor Mindy. She’d been relatively pretty once, but over the years, her features had sharpened and her cheeks had sunk, as if literally eaten away by bitterness. Arranging his face into an appropriately mournful demeanor, he took her hands and kissed her on both cheeks. “Hello, Mindy dear,” he said.

“Billy.”

“Are you going in?” Billy asked.

Mindy looked away. “I thought I might pay my respects.”

“Ah.” Billy nodded, immediately guessing at the truth. There was, he knew, no possibility that Mrs. Houghton would have invited Mindy to her memorial service; although Mindy was the head of the board, Mrs. Houghton had never mentioned her and most likely had not known, or cared to know, of Mindy’s existence. But Mindy, who was always full of misplaced and determined pride, would have found it necessary to attend in order to cement her status. “I’m waiting for a friend,” he said. “Perhaps you’d like to go in with us.”

“Sure,” Mindy said. Say what you would about Billy Litchfield, she thought, at least he was always a gentleman.

Billy took Mindy’s arm. “Were you very close to Mrs. Houghton?”

Mindy stared at him unflinchingly. “Not really,” she said. “I mostly saw her in the lobby. But you were close, weren’t you?”

“Very,” Billy said. “I visited her at least twice a month.”

“You must miss her,” Mindy said.

“I do.” Billy sighed. “She was an amazing woman, but we all know that.” He paused, gauging Mindy’s mood, and went in for the kill. “And that apartment,” he said. “I wonder what will happen to it.”

His gamble paid off. Mindy was much more interested in talking about Mrs. Houghton’s apartment than about Mrs. Houghton herself. “Now, that’s a good question,” she said. Leaning forward intently, she whispered loudly, “There are some people in the building who want to split it up.”

Billy took a step back in shock. “That would be a travesty,” he said. “You can’t split up an apartment like that. It’s a landmark, really.”

“That’s what I think,” Mindy said emphatically, pleased to discover that she and Billy were of one mind in the matter.

Billy lowered his voice. “I may be able to help you. I know someone who would be perfect for the apartment.”

“Really?” Mindy said.

Billy nodded. “A lovely young woman from Washington, D.C. I would only say this to you, my dear, because you’ll understand exactly what I mean. But she’s definitely one of us.”