subject its foundations. This man’s face was perfectly round, with two small eyes, a thin mouth, and a weak chin lightly dusted with graying stubble. He reminded Nina of an oatmeal cookie that had too much butter. The kind that, when baked, could not retain its shape, but would simply melt outward on the pan.
“Calvin Gardner,” the man helpfully supplied as he reached Nina and held out a hand. “I was with Craig and Jeffries Fund, helping your dad with an investment. Or trying to. Christmas Eve, 2003.” He winked. “I made you laugh by the punch bowl, remember?”
“Oh,” sniffed Nina. “Oh, yes. That’s right.” She didn’t remember at all. So instead, she cleared her throat. “I, um, I use de Vries now.”
She vaguely remembered meeting this Mr. Gardner at some dinner party or another the last time her father had visited from London, maybe four or five years ago. Her father hadn’t had time to spend with his daughter at Christmas, so Nina had been shuttled to a business party and watched men like this one beg for his attention all night.
If there had ever been a night to run off with a busboy… Perhaps she might have if she had thought her father would have cared at all.
Nina tried to suppress the rest of the memories. How she had begged her grandmother for the rights to her maternal family’s name rather than her absent father’s. Or how she had only been given permission with the awareness that it wouldn’t change her chances at inheritance.
She’d get a trust like every other female member, but the de Vries fortune and company were patrilineal. Meanwhile, its single heir had run away in fury.
Fuck Eric, Nina thought with sudden vengeance, the word sounding as strange in her head as it would have on her lips.
“Nina?”
She shook her head, yanked back to the present.
“It’s really too bad that deal never went through,” Mr. Gardner was saying, chatting on about the night they apparently met, though his words didn’t translate as Nina’s own mind started to cycle.
Had he seen her hand on the door?
Had he seen her about to cry?
Did he know why she was here?
Gardner’s eyes flickered to the title on the door, clearly printed in peeling white letters: Clinic: Abortion Services and Other.
There it was. Plain as day.
“I—oh.” His small brown eyes flew back over Nina, landing on her stomach, where her right arm was clasped around her waist.
She dropped it immediately, all sorts of inappropriate language flying through her mind. Well, if he hadn’t known before, he did now.
To his credit, though, Gardner’s face softened.
“Ms. Ast—de Vries,” he said. “Nina. Do you—can I help you with something? Is there someone we should call?”
Nina glanced around. “I—oh, no. There is no one here.”
That, she would realize later, was her first mistake.
Mr. Gardner’s head tipped. “Really?”
“Really,” she insisted weakly. “And you know, Mr. Gardner, I should probably be going…”
He took her wrist before she turned away completely. Nina stopped and stared at it.
It had been two weeks, four days, and seven hours since someone had touched her. Since Peppe had slipped his hands around her neck and pressed his lips to her cheeks at the train station, one at a time, before letting her go.
Buon viaggio, principessa.
“You don’t need to be ashamed,” Mr. Gardner said, glancing at the door again and then back at Nina. “I don’t judge. Really.”
“Oh, Mr. Gardner, it’s not what it looks—”
“Calvin, please.” Gardner offered a kind, if somewhat forced, smile that made his otherwise dull features warmer. The hand on Nina’s wrist relaxed but didn’t let go. “You shouldn’t be here alone. If there isn’t anyone you’d like to call, I could come in and sit with you. If you want. Only until—until you need to go in.”
As awkward as the offer was, he almost looked eager. And as alone as Nina felt, it almost seemed sweet. More attention than anyone had given her recently. Except, of course, one.
She opened her mouth to tell this Calvin everything she knew she should say. That he was mistaken. That she was in the neighborhood looking for a fabric store, or got lost on her way to the Queens MoMA, or some other tall tale that would protect her reputation and keep him at arm’s length.
But suddenly, the idea of walking into this crumbling building, up the stained carpeted steps to a waiting room that was probably just as depressing made Nina want to cry all over again. Calvin seemed to