something like pepperoni away from an old man,” he said, and Nora let out a relieved breath.
Will shook his head. “It didn’t say you couldn’t have pepperoni,” he said. “It said you should have less. And more fiber.”
“This is about my diver—” He broke off in the middle of this announcement to the full group. “What’s it called again?”
“Diverticulitis,” Will said, and then automatically looked to Nora. “It’s very mild.”
Mrs. Salas made a little fanning gesture beneath her chin. “He’s talking medicine!” she said to Marian quietly.
“It’s about my colon, Corrine,” Jonah said, annoyed.
“Are you being his doctor now?” said Marian, a note of suspicion in her voice. “Giving him medicines or something?”
“Not at all,” said Will, because now he knew you answered Marian’s questions. “We email a bit.”
He looked back to Nora, something sheepish in his eyes. That night they’d first been together, Will had told her he’d done what he had about the apartment—the longer stays, the more careful selection of tenants—for her. But Nora had a feeling he’d done it for everyone else, too, even if he hadn’t admitted that to himself. Somewhere between poetry night and cats in his apartment and taking care of Nora, he’d gotten to know her neighbors.
“Did he tell you about the woman from St. Louis?” asked Benny.
“That’s enough of that,” said Jonah, but his face might’ve gone a shade pinker as he set down his bag. “It’s a good thing you’re around, Beanpole. I found another book that belonged to your uncle.”
Once again Nora went tense. Bringing up Donny was worse than picking any bone, a tender spot she and Will still stayed away from.
But when she looked at him, she could see that his unbothered expression was authentic, his posture loose. When Jonah passed the paperback his way—the pages wrinkled and yellowed, the cover halfway torn off and faded—Will didn’t flinch, didn’t tense. He set down the bucket and took it. He looked down at it, not quite with curiosity, but not with pained indifference, either. The hold Donny had on Will seemed, at least lately, to have loosened.
“Were you going to try to donate this torn-up book to charity?” Marian said to Jonah.
“Someone would’ve taken it,” said Benny. “Like this—”
“Bernard, if you say something about my Wizard of Oz pillow . . .”
Nora stopped listening, though, because she was watching Will, who’d gently opened the book’s damaged cover to look inside, and something he saw there transformed him, made his jaw harden and his brow lower. He ran his thumb along the side of the pages, a flash reveal of text that Nora could see had been underlined, annotated. Blue pen, loopy cursive.
He cleared his throat. “This was my mother’s,” he said quietly, but she wasn’t sure if he’d meant to.
“Now that explains it,” said Jonah. “A whole box of books about some detective with an alcohol problem and then this one! Definitely didn’t seem like Donny’s type of thing.”
Will didn’t respond. He closed the book again, bent to pick up his bucket, and Nora’s stomach clenched in sympathy for him, this surprise intrusion of something painful.
“Thanks for passing it along to me,” he said lightly, but she could tell that this was strained. “I guess I’d better get to work. I’m sure I’ll see you all soon.”
“Oh, wait,” said Mrs. Salas, as Will was turning away. “I think this must’ve fallen out.” She reached down to a white rectangle that had landed on top of the kitchenware box, and even before she turned it over, Nora had a sick, sinking feeling that the surprise intrusion was about to get a whole lot worse.
“Well now, these have to be your parents!”
Nora winced inwardly as Mrs. Salas stared down at the photograph she’d revealed—flat and glossy and well-preserved from the pages of the book it’d been tucked inside, bright with vivid color. Immediately, her neighbors had tucked in, getting closer to peer over Mrs. Salas’s shoulders, their expressions warm and interested.
“Golly,” Jonah said, looking up at Will. “There’s a real family resemblance!”
“All your height from your dad’s side, I guess,” said Benny. And Mrs. Salas added, “But this smile! Exactly like your mom’s. I see a bit of Donny in this smile.”
Nora opened her mouth to say something, to stop this, but right before she could speak her gaze caught with Will’s, his mask of calm marred by the pained look in his eyes, and he gave a small, warning shake of his head.