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image of Dale calling her Nora with Steven looking
     
on, and vice versa, was fraying her nerves.
     
"I'll let you do your business," he said. "Just promise me
     
I can take you out to dinner sometime." The guy certainly
     
was an opportunist. He knew what she knew, that yes was
     
a much quicker answer. No would've required making an
     
excuse.
     
"Yes," said Nora. "That would be nice. Call me."
     
"I will. I'm on vacation beginning next week, but when I
     
get back, I'm going to hold you to that promise."
     
Steven Keppler turned to go with Dale still a few feet
     
away. It was close, but she dodged a bullet. Then…
     
"It was good seeing you, Olivia," called Steven loudly.
     
Nora gave him a weak smile and glanced at Dale, who
     
looked thoroughly confused. "Did that man just call you
     
Olivia?
" he asked.
     
Nora prayed to the goddess of quick thinking. She deliv-
     
ered. Nora leaned into Dale with a whisper. "I met him at a
     
party a few months back. I told him I was Olivia -- for ob-
     
vious reasons."
     
Dale nodded, no longer confused, and Nora smiled. Her
     
two lives remained safely apart.
     
For now, anyway.
     
     
----
Chapter 47
     
A BLOND WOMAN drifted from one piece of old furniture
     
to another, her eyes shielded by a pair of dark sunglasses.
     
She was playing detective and feeling slightly ridiculous, to
     
tell the truth. But she
needed
to watch Nora Sinclair.
     
Had this been anywhere but New York, she would've
     
stood out. But this was the Upper East Side of Manhattan.
     
Here, she blended in. Simply another browsing customer at
     
Hargrove & Sons.
     
The blonde stopped at an oak hallstand with shiny brass
     
hooks and pretended to look at the price. Her eyes and ears
     
remained fixed on Nora.
     
Or was it
Olivia
Sinclair?
     
She didn't know what to make of the exchange with the
     
balding guy.
Anyone who answers to two names is probably
     
guilty of something.
     
She continued to watch Nora -- now joined by an older
     
man. Just to be careful, she wandered away from them a
     
couple of times. Still, she managed to overhear some of the
     
conversation.
     
The older man was a client. Accordingly, Nora was actu-
     
ally an interior decorator. Her comments and suggestions,
     
the jargon -- she definitely knew how to talk the talk.
     
Nora's profession was never really in doubt, though. It
     
was the rest of her life that was in question. Her two lives,
     
her secrets. But there was no proof of anything yet. Which
     
was why the blond woman had decided to have a look-see
     
for herself.
     
"Excuse me, do you need any help? May I be of assis-
     
tance in any way?"
     
The blonde turned to see an elderly sales clerk hovering
     
close behind. He was wearing a bow tie, a tweed jacket,
     
wire-rimmed eyeglasses that looked as old as he was.
     
"No, thank you," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
     
"I'm just looking. But I don't see anything I like."
     
     
----
Chapter 48
     
AFTER I LOST Nora up in Boston that Saturday, the rest of
     
the weekend could be summed up in one word:
shitty.
     
On my list of spontaneous dumb things to do, squaring
     
off with a rental-car window scored pretty high. Thankfully,
     
I hadn't broken my hand, at least according to my extensive
     
medical self-evaluation. The epitome of rigor, it consisted of
     
one question:
Can you still move your fingers, you idiot?
     
When Monday morning finally rolled around, I swung
     
by Connor Brown's house to see if Nora had returned. She
     
hadn't. After making the same trip, with the same result,
     
in the late afternoon, I decided it was time to try her cell
     
phone.
     
I took out my notepad, where I'd written the number
     
Nora had given me, and dialed from my car.
     
A man answered.
     
"I'm sorry, I may have the wrong number," I said. "I was
     
trying to reach Nora Sinclair."
     
He didn't know anyone by that name.
     
I hung up and checked my notepad against the