as I touched the first one, I drew my hand back as if I had grazed a hot stove. My mind had not completely embraced what I was intending to do. This was a splash of reality in my face. I stepped back for a moment to question myself. The answers were the same. Do it, and continue to pursue the life you dreamed you’d have, or stop now, return to New York, and start your journey home. For a moment, despite how large this room was, I felt claustrophobic, trapped, and unable to breathe.
I took a moment to calm my thumping heart, sat on the bed, and stared at the closet. Instinctively, I knew I had to embrace everything and at least pretend to be excited and grateful. After all, this was a lot of money. I’d have my independence. Gradually, my breathing became normal, and the wave of heat that had rushed over me dissipated. I rose and returned to sift through the clothes.
I plucked out and held up a navy, yellow, blue, and green floral print that had a low scooped neck. I thought it was beautiful. There was something about it that suggested it wasn’t a dress Samantha had long owned. In fact, when I tried it on, I was surprised that it still had a shop tag attached. The price was over twelve hundred dollars.
She had definitely said the closet contained her clothes. Why did she buy something for herself and never wear it? Was this a mistake, perhaps? It shouldn’t have been transferred from her closet to mine? I had no doubt that if I pointed it out to her, she would still insist I wear it. I cut off the tag and gazed at myself in the full-length mirror on the closet door. It couldn’t have fit me better if it had been tailored for me, yet I wasn’t pleased as much as a little spooked. Everything was just… a little too perfect.
I went to the dresser and began looking at what was in the drawers. Everything was my size, including brand-new bras. There wasn’t a variety of sizes, either; everything would fit me. It was so odd. I stood thinking about it all. My gaze went to the clock Mrs. Taylor had bought me on my birthday. Placing it on the night table was one of the first things I had done. It didn’t strike me then, but I was suddenly aware that it matched the blue in this room, just as it had in Julia’s and my bedroom in Guildford. It truly was as if this room and everything in it was put together in anticipation of me, not just anyone.
Of course, that cannot be, I told myself, and shook my head. It was all coincidence. I had to get hold of myself. I was getting a little too paranoid.
Wasn’t I?
For a moment, I had the suspicion that Leo Abbot might have told them about me much earlier than he had claimed. For all I knew, the Davenports could have hired a private detective to follow me, take pictures, and report to them about my behavior. Maybe I even had served him in the Last Diner.
After I put on the shoes that matched the dress, shoes that also looked unused, I gazed at myself again in the full-length mirror. On second thought, the size coincidences weren’t that astounding. Samantha and I were about the same height and weight. It happens. Stop making a thing of it, I told myself. I broke out of my reverie when I heard someone knocking gently.
“Yes?” I said.
I was expecting Samantha, of course, but Dr. Davenport opened the door and stepped in quickly.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, and I’m certainly not here to rush you,” he said.
“It’s fine. I’m ready. Thank you.”
“Yes, I imagine you’re hungry. I know I am.”
He didn’t close the door behind him completely. He had changed his clothes and wore a light-blue jacket, shirt, and slacks with a dark-blue tie. I had been so nervous in Leo’s apartment when he and I first met that I really hadn’t looked at him. I had a suspicion that he was someone who never totally relaxed in the presence of someone else, especially someone who was yet a stranger, but he looked far less severe right now, his gaze not as stern or as analytical, his lips softer. Yet he didn’t lose what I had recognized in my father early on, a posture reeking of self-confidence.