again that day, but he knocked at the kitchen door later that afternoon. I was starting to get ready for work, and I had to throw on a robe when I answered the door.
He held up a piece of paper. “I got your note.”
“I didn’t —”
I heard a knock at the other door, a quick, sharp rap, and then the sound of the door opening. I could have sworn that I’d locked it. I ran toward the front of the apartment, Hank behind me.
Nate swept off his hat. “Hello, Hank.”
Hank froze. “I guess I’ll be going, Kit —”
“In a minute,” Nate interrupted. “Kit, why don’t you make us some coffee?” His voice was low and polite, but Hank looked nervously toward the kitchen, as if he wanted to dash that way and out the other door.
“What’s going on?” I asked. My hand drifted to my robe, holding it tightly closed. This felt like an invasion.
Nate had walked in as if he owned the place. Which he did. Like he had every right to be here. Which he didn’t.
My words got swallowed into the tension in the air. It was like I wasn’t even there. Nate just held Hank’s gaze.
“I’m Nate Benedict, Hank,” Nate said.
“I know. I saw your picture in the paper.”
“And I’m your landlord. I own this building. Isn’t that right, Kit?”
I nodded. Hank gave me a swift, surprised glance.
“I bought it before the war, as an investment. I’m the one who’s been giving your parents a break on the rent. I know they got a raw deal, losing their jobs because they’re Reds.”
“They’re not Reds.”
“Doesn’t matter, does it? You see, I don’t like it when people get pushed around. That’s why I became a lawyer, no matter what the papers say. Kit, go make some coffee,” he said, and this time the tone in his voice made me move toward the kitchen. I just didn’t want things to get worse than they were.
I ran the water and filled the pot, measured the coffee and dumped it in, but I didn’t plug in the percolator. I moved back toward the living room to listen.
“You’re going to Yale, right? Scholarship and everything, smart kid, you have a future, no question about it. This is just a rough patch in the road. I’m sure you’ll get through it. The thing is, I can help. Believe it or not, I take an interest in my tenants.”
“I don’t need any help.”
“Just hear me out.”
I could recognize something hard behind the pleasantness in Nate’s voice, like he’d knocked Hank’s shoulder, the way kids do before they fight. And I could tell by Hank’s voice that he was scared. I couldn’t leave him alone like that. I walked back into the room.
“Coffee ready?” Nate asked.
“Not yet.”
“I have to get home,” Hank blurted. He went by me without seeing me, blundering into the kitchen. I heard him fumbling with the knob.
Nate followed him quickly. “Hank, wait. One more thing.” He slipped an arm around him and talked quietly to him. I couldn’t hear a word unless I got right on top of them.
I’d seen this before.
That night at the Riverbank, Jeff Toland holding the napkin-wrapped ice to his swollen face, listening as Nate put a gentle arm around his shoulders. That quiet voice in his ear, telling him what was going to happen. I knew that now. Jeff had listened, and he’d gone off to Hollywood, and his career had been saved by a contract. Was that what Nate had promised him that night?
When Nate released him, Hank opened the door so fast he slammed it into his forehead. Then he rushed out, shutting it behind him.
Leaving me alone with Nate.
“What was that all about?” I asked.
Nate lit a cigarette and blew out the smoke. “He’s a good kid. I’m just trying to help out.”
I started to get an ashtray and stopped. I wasn’t going to wait on him.
“Did you just walk in the door before?” I asked.
“I knocked, but you didn’t hear. It wasn’t locked.”
“Funny, I thought it was. I have to get dressed.”
“You have time.”
“No, I have to do my makeup and my hair and everything —”
“Kit, it’s only five thirty. You’ve got an hour. You heard what happened at the Lido last night.” He opened the cupboard and took out a saucer. He tapped his ash onto it.
“I can read the papers like everybody else.”
“Yeah, well, Tuesday is a slow news day. They need headlines.”
Tuesday. It was Tuesday. How could this impossible, terrible