remember what Joe had, which of his possessions would mean something to me. I wanted everything of his, and yet I could not bear to take a thing.
“What are we doing with his clothes?” I yelled over my shoulder, though weakly. Neither of my sisters answered. I pulled at the towel on the window until it came down with a flurry of dust, and raised a hand to my eyes with the sudden influx of light.
A tall chest of drawers was pushed inside the closet. All those drawers, and I both did and did not want to see what was inside. I had no right to uncover Joe’s secret self, and yet I felt an obligation to protect him from embarrassment; anything bad, anything Joe wouldn’t want Noni to see, porn or drugs, I would take it away and destroy it. Flush it down the toilet, stuff it into my bag, and drop it into the sea. I felt a sudden, urgent nausea to think of what Caroline and Renee would find in my bedroom were I to die unexpectedly, unprepared.
But I found only boxer shorts and socks, white T-shirts still wrapped in plastic, belts, jeans, shorts—so many shorts, plaid, canvas, and khaki. And then, deep in the last drawer, my hand closed around a small box. I brought it out into the bedroom’s new, tentative light. It was a pale blue, the color of a perfect sky. Across the top, in black letters, were etched the words tiffany & co. The box looked brand-new, the edges sharp, the surface unmarked.
I sat on Joe’s bed holding the box in my hands. It seemed almost to emit light, to glow deeply, bluely from within. I opened the top. Inside was another box, this one covered in a deep navy velvet. Carefully I lifted the hinged lid, and there, nestled in a crack of velvet, was the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. A diamond, large and round, smaller than Sandrine’s, but somehow more brilliant, positioned on a band set with smaller diamonds. The whole thing took the light from the room and flung it back at me magnified a hundred times, a thousand. The ring seemed on fire, and I threw it down onto the bed.
* * *
After a spell I returned to the living room.
“What were you doing back there?” Renee asked.
“Cleaning. Joe’s bedroom.” I held the box loosely in my hand and considered for the briefest, rashest moment just tucking it into the pocket of my jeans, taking it home with me to New York. But that, I knew, would be cruel.
“Look what I found,” I said, and held out the box on an opened palm.
“Tiffany blue,” Caroline remarked as she walked in from the kitchen. “What’s inside?”
“A diamond ring. An engagement ring.”
Renee dropped her half-full garbage bag. “Sandrine’s?”
“No,” I said. “This one’s brand-new.”
“Are you sure?” asked Renee.
“Yes. I’m sure. Sandrine kept hers. Remember? And look at it. Look at the box.” I held it up but did not move toward Renee. She stepped forward and plucked it from my palm. She lifted the lid and whistled.
The three of us remained still, eyes trained on the ring. All silently asking ourselves the same question.
“Is it . . . ?” Caroline breathed. “The woman who was with him?” The detectives had told us about Luna Hernandez, the woman who’d left him alone that last night.
“The detectives said she hadn’t known Joe for very long, just a few months.” Renee turned toward Caroline. “And he wanted to marry her?”
“I . . . I don’t know,” said Caroline, and then she held up a hand. “Wait—” She darted out of the room, into the kitchen, and returned with the polaroid. Caroline placed the photo of Joe and Luna on the coffee table, and we crowded around to look. For a moment no one spoke. The muffled clang of the elevator reached us from the distant interior of the building.
“Look at them,” said Renee. “How old do you think she is?” My sister appeared to vibrate ever so slightly, like a rocket in the seconds before liftoff. “So the woman who leaves him, leaves him to die, he was going to propose to her?” Renee’s hands were shaking. She sat down on the couch. Her garbage bag hit the floor with a splinter of glass. “Does Joe have a will?” Renee said. “We need to get in touch with that lawyer. This is important.” She was looking directly at the ring, as