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21 when she is distressed about something.
22 She shakes her head. “No,” she says. “Peg saw him, on the
23 way home from Casteel’s the other night. She said he was
24 walking down Chestnut with some . . . hussy.” She bites her
25 lip now, as if she is holding back tears.
26 “I’m sorry,” I say. “But maybe it isn’t what you think?
27 Sometimes things, people, they are not as they appear to be.”
28S “What else could it be?” she asks.
29N I shrug, because I honestly don’t know, though I also know
Margot
    Shelby has sat across from me for three years, and she neither 01
knows nor seems to suspect nearly anything real about me. 02
She has an American blind trust in the people around her. 03
“His sister?” I finally say. 04
“He doesn’t have a sister.” 05
“Cousin?” I ask. She shrugs. “Maybe you should just ask 06
him?” I tell her, thinking how ironic it is that I am giving her 07
advice about getting the truth. 08
She considers it for a moment, as I find my eyes drawn 09
back to Joshua again, through the glass. He hangs up the 10
phone, moves toward the door, and I quickly avert my eyes 11
and hands back to my typewriter. 12
He walks out of his office, grabs his brown hat off the hat 13
rack by my desk, and places it atop his chestnut curls in one 14
swift motion. Shelby turns the music down so it is barely 15
audible. “Don’t do that on my account,” Joshua says, smiling 16
at me. I remember my image of Peter, broad-shouldered and in 17
a suit, wondering if this might make me immune to Joshua’s 18
smile now, but apparently it does not. I smile back. “Margie,” 19
he says. “I have a new client coming in Monday afternoon, 20
and I want you to sit in on the meeting.” 21
“Me?” Though Joshua has encouraged me on the paralegal 22
front, he has never offered me more than secretarial duties. 23
“You speak Polish, right?” 24
I nod, and my smile falls away in an instant as I swallow 25
back the lie I tell everyone when they ask me about my accent. 26
It is only a hint of an accent by now, but still, Americans seem 27
to have the ability to detect even the slightest bit of foreign S28
ness in a person. Yet, of course, they cannot tell the difference N29
01 between German and Polish accents. And I cannot say the 02 truth, that my accent is German. There is so much hatred still 03 for Germans in America, especially among Jews. 04 “It has been a long while,” I tell Joshua now. “I barely 05 remember my Polish.”
06 “That’s all right,” Joshua tells me. “She speaks English. But 07 heavily accented. So I might need your help understanding.” 08 I know many languages: French, Hebrew, German, Eng 09 lish, Dutch. Some Latin. Polish is not one of them. 10 “Well, have a nice weekend, ladies,” Joshua says, tipping 11 his hat in my direction as he floats toward the elevator. The 12 doors shut behind him. Shelby turns up her music, louder, 13 and for a moment Frankie seems to be shouting at us. Surely 14 the things I ask can’t be too great a task . . .
15 “Maybe you’re right,” I hear Shelby saying. “I should just 16 ask Ron.”
17 But now all my words are gone, and all I can do is sit there 18 and cling tightly to my sweater against my chest. 19
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Chapter Eight 04
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The weekend passes in a blur of restless nights, as I 14
pace my apartment, staring at my paralegal work without 15
absorbing any of it, and folding and unfolding the yellow 16
square from my satchel, though now I have memorized both 17
the address and the number by heart. P. Pelt. It cannot be him, 18
I think, and yet, maybe it is. But Sunday afternoon I become 19
more consumed with what is waiting for me at work on Mon 20
day, and I find myself at the Free Public Library of Philadel 21
phia, browsing through a Polish dictionary. 22
I am quite good at learning. In the annex, through