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morning?”
    “Unsuitable.”
    “You’re not sharing, Miriam. Come on, honey, let’s have it.”
    I told Kevin the details of Jean’s interview and he shook his head. “I’m definitely sticking around for the afternoon. I want to meet this gal from Birmingham. What’s her name?”
    “Liz. Liz Harper. Works in admissions at Hunter College.”
    “That can’t pay much. Does she come from money?”
    “I think not. Turns out she’s the daughter or niece of a friend of mine.”
    “And we care, why?”
    “Exactly. I mean, does she think I’m running a day-care center for adult children? I raised my kids, thank you.”
    “Well, maybe she’ll be okay.”
    “We’ll find out at four.”
    By three forty-five that afternoon I had made the dreaded phone call to the pervert and lied very nicely that my niece was going to be using the apartment. Kevin was upstairs painting and blasting an old recording of La Bohème . The doorbell rang. She was early, which I took as a good omen. I flipped on the gas burner to heat the kettle for tea and buzzed her in.
    Kevin was bounding down the steps as she was coming in and I was opening the front door to my apartment. We nearly collided head-on in what would surely have been an auspicious beginning to our relationship.
    “Oh, golly! Sorry! Hi! I’m Liz Harper.”
    “Yes, you are!” Kevin said, grinning like a cat. “Didn’t mean to scare you half to death.”
    “My goodness! Won’t you come in? I’m Miriam Swanson. I think my tiny vestibule is violating your personal space.”
    “Oh! No bother at all! Thanks!”
    “May I take your coat?”
    “Thanks.” She pulled off her gloves, stuffed them in her pockets, and handed her coat to me in kind of a wound-up wad. Perhaps she thought I was going to stuff it in a cubby.
    “I’ll get the tea going,” I said.
    Kevin was enthralled with her. I could tell by his solicitous remarks.
    “Don’t you just love living in the city? I knew someone from Birmingham once; they say it’s such a beautiful place! Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Cameron Diaz? You’re thirty-one? Nooooo! Impossible. I would have guessed you weren’t a day over twenty-five. I should be twenty-five and know what I know now…”
    I heard her say, “And I’m just thinking how wonderful it would be if I did know what you know!”
    They burst into a fit of laughter and I felt a twinge of annoyance. I was actually a little jealous and it surprised me. In the next breath, I asked myself what was I thinking to be bothered by Kevin’s easy rapport with a girl young enough to be my daughter? But only technically. It was ridiculous of me and I got over it.
    I hung her coat in the closet, checking the label. It was a classic, single-breasted black merino-wool tuxedo coat made by Searle. Sensible. Investment dressing. Not covered in cat hair. After all, my Harry was not fond of cats. Her hand-crocheted scarf was at least ten feet long, which Iimagined she needed because her neck rose from her shoulders like a swan’s.
    I fixed the tea and carried the tray to the living room, where they were chatting away like magpies.
    “Tea, anyone?”
    “Oh! What a great idea! Thank you!” Liz said, smiling.
    “Why don’t I pour, Miriam?” Kevin said. “You sit right there like the regal creature that you are.”
    Attention! My ego was healed.
    “We’ve just been talking about Liz and her work at Hunter College…”
    “And I said that I like my other jobs just one whole heckuva lot better.”
    “And what are your other jobs?
    “Bartending and nannying. I like kids.”
    Bartending?
    “And where do you tend bar?”
    “Oh, I work for several caterers and we work private parties and benefits…”
    I wondered if she had ever worked at the museum. I’ll admit that I liked her appearance and her taste. She was tall and blond, not with classical good looks, but rather angelic in an angular way. She was dressed in moderately expensive clothes, a sweater set