In the Age of Love and Chocolate

XX HAVING VOWED TO BE ALONE, I AM NEVER ALONE

WHEN I AWOKE, I was in a hospital bed. Without knowing why, I could tell that this was different from any other time I had been injured. I was not in pain, but my body had a peculiar, ominous numbness to it.

The miniature nurse said something encouraging in Japanese. It seemed like she was saying, “Yay, you are not dead!” But I couldn’t tell. She scurried out of the room.

Moments later, a doctor came in, and with him were Mr. Delacroix and my sister.

I knew whatever was wrong with me must be serious if Natty had been summoned to Japan. She took my hand. “Anya, you’re awake, thank God.” Her eyes filled with tears. Mr. Delacroix stayed in the corner, as if he were being punished. It did not strike me as particularly odd that he had come, as there was business to attend to in Japan. With me indisposed, either he or Theo would have needed to make the trip.

I tried to speak, but there were tubes in my throat. I pulled at them, and the nurse grabbed my hand.

“Do you remember what happened to you?” the doctor asked. It was a relief that he spoke English.

I nodded because that was the only response I could make.

“You were attacked and stabbed.” He showed me a diagram: I was represented by a one-dimensional cartoon girl with an intimidating series of red Xs to indicate areas of trauma. The girl looked as if she had made many mistakes.

“The first wound went from under your shoulder blade, penetrating through your chest, to below your collarbone. Along the way, it grazed the wall of your heart. The second wound penetrated your lower back, severing nerves along the left side of your spinal column. That is why you can’t feel your left foot.”

I nodded—same reason as before.

“Luckily, the wound was very low. A bit higher and your entire leg might not work. A bit more central, and you might have been paralyzed entirely. The other good news is that your right foot should work perfectly, and it is likely that you will be able to walk normally again but no one can say how long that will take.”

I nodded though I considered rolling my eyes to mix it up.

“When the wall of your heart was damaged, it set off a series of cardiac incidents. We had to perform heart surgery to repair the wall and to return your heart to normal function.

“You’ve broken your ankle, so you will notice that your foot is in a cast. We suspect you tried to stand at some point after you were stabbed, and you must have twisted your foot.”

I had not noticed, but now I saw that it was. It didn’t seem to make much difference as my foot apparently didn’t work anyway and obviously this was only one of many problems.

“Also, your larynx was badly bruised, but as you are intubated, we can’t yet know the outlook for this injury.

“You are on a morphine drip, and your pain should be manageable for the time being. I don’t want to sugarcoat the situation, Ms. Balanchine. You have a long recovery ahead of you.”

He probably didn’t need to say that last sentence. The fact that it had taken over two minutes to deliver a cursory description of my injuries was a pretty good sign that I would not be up and about for a while.

“I’ll leave you to your friends,” the doctor said, and then he left.

Natty sat down on my bed and immediately began to cry. “Annie, you almost died. Does it hurt?”

I shook my head. It didn’t. That would come later.

“I’ll stay with you until you’re well,” she said.

I shook my head again. I was glad to see her, but even in my current condition, I could think of nothing worse than her staying with me when she was supposed to be at college.

Mr. Delacroix came over to my bedside. He had not spoken once during this scene. “I am, of course, attending to the openings of the Japanese clubs while you are out of commission.”

I wanted to say thank you, but I couldn’t.

He looked at me with eyes that were steady and unemotional. He nodded and then he left.

Natty kissed me, and though I had been awake for less than a half hour, I fell asleep.

And now a small irony: I, who had only recently vowed to be alone, was never alone. I had never been so humbled. I could do nothing for myself. I could not get to the bathroom without assistance. I could not eat without help. Moving my right hand to the level of my mouth would reopen the stitches in my back and chest, and so I was encouraged to stay very still. I was worse than a baby, because I was so unwieldy and not adorable in the least.

I could not bathe. I could not brush my hair. I could not walk across the room, obviously. My ribs had been broken during the surgery to repair my heart, so those hurt, too. For a while, I was considered too fragile even to be placed in a wheelchair. I did not see the outdoors for weeks. It hurt to talk so I avoided it, but it hurt more to write. So I whispered. But what was there to say? I did not feel clever anymore. I did not care about the news from home. I did not care about the Family or the clubs.

I had been in the hospital before; I had been sick before. But this was not comparable in any way to those other occasions. I could not do anything except lie in bed and stare out the window. There was no revenge to be plotted. I had killed Sophia Bitter and I was tired.

The police came to see me. As Sophia had attacked me, the case appeared fairly cut-and-dried to them. We were both foreigners, gaijin, and so no one much cared what her, or for that matter, my reasons had been.

After a week or so of being tended to, I no longer had much in the way of self-consciousness. Who cared if my breasts were exposed when they re-dressed the stitches on my chest? Who cared if my hospital gown fell open when the bedpan was slipped below me? Who cared if I could not do anything without the assistance of at least one other person? I gave myself over to it. I did not fight with anyone like my nana had. I smiled sweetly and let myself be attended to. I was like a broken doll. I believe the nurses liked me very much.

Although I had stopped caring about most everything, my one concern was Natty. She had been a superb advocate in those first days. Though I was broken, I was no longer in danger of dying. I wanted her to return to college.

“I have a nurse and I don’t like you to be away from school,” I managed to say in as cheerful a voice as I could muster.

“But you’ll be so lonely,” Natty said.

“I am not lonely, Natty. I am never alone.”

“That’s not the same thing, Argon, and you know it. You almost died. The doctors say you have months of recovery ahead of you. You can’t travel, and I won’t leave you here.”

I tried to sit up in bed but couldn’t. “Natty, I don’t find it relaxing to have you here. I find it relaxing to know you are at college, learning important things.”

“This is ridiculous, Annie. I will not leave you!”

From the darkest corner of the room, Mr. Delacroix spoke: “I will stay with her.”

“What?” Natty said.

“I will stay with her, and then she will not be alone.”

Natty stood very tall. Her particular facial expression, a daunting combination of queen and gangster, was one I had seen many times before—on my nana. “With all due respect, Mr. Delacroix, I’m not going to leave my sister with you. I don’t even know you that well, and what I do know, I am not sure I much like.”

“Trust me, Natty,” Mr. Delacroix said. “This is for the best. I will stay with her. I am already seeing to business in Japan.” He took off his jacket and set it on the chair, as if to indicate that he was planning to stay awhile. “Do you remember the year she went to Liberty?”

“Yes, that is precisely what makes me not like you,” Natty said.

“Essentially, she traded her freedom so that you could go to genius camp in Amherst, and I was able to strike that deal with Anya because of the great love she had for you. And what she wanted that year is not dissimilar from what she wants right now. Respect her wishes and leave. You may call me as much as you like, and I will bring her home to you when she is safe to travel in the summer.”

Natty turned to me. “You would rather him stay with you than me? You would prefer Win’s awful father, who we used to hate? I mean, even his son, who is the nicest boy in the world and who gets along with everyone, hates him.”

Of course I would rather have had Natty, but more than that, I wanted her back at school. “Yes,” I said. “Besides, shouldn’t he have to do something for me for once in his life?”

Natty turned to Mr. Delacroix. “If she takes even the slightest turn for the worse, you need to contact me immediately. You need to come see her at least once a day and make sure she is being taken care of. And I expect reports, too.” She left the room in a huff, and three days later, she was back at MIT.

“Thank you,” I told him later that day, or maybe it was the next. I slept a lot, and the days often blended together. “But you don’t have to check on me so often. I do have nurses. I’ll be fine, and I can’t very well get myself in any trouble in the condition I’m in.”

“I promised your sister,” Mr. Delacroix said. “And I am a man of my word.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Anya,” Mr. Delacroix said, “would you like to go over some business details with me? The Light Bar in Hiroshima is—”

“I don’t care. I’m sure whatever you decide will be fine.”

“You have to try.”

“Try to do what? I don’t have to do anything except lie here, Mr. Delacroix.”

They were weaning me off morphine that week, and this turned out to be the kind of adventure best experienced in solitude.

XXI I AM WEAK; REFLECT ON THE TRANSFORMATIVE NATURE OF PAIN; DETERMINE THAT MY CHARACTER IS BUILT

MR. DELACROIX CAME EVERY DAY and usually for several hours. I am certain I was terrible company. One day in late October, he brought a chess set with him.

“What is this?” I asked. “Do you think I want anything to do with games?”

“Well, I am bored with you,” he said. “You don’t wish to discuss the business and you say nothing even slightly amusing, so I thought at least we could play chess.”

“I don’t know how to play,” I said.

“Grand. That gives us something to do then.”

“If you’re so bored with me, perhaps you should go back to America? You must have business there.”

“I promised your sister,” he said.

“No one expects you to honor your promises, Mr. Delacroix. Everyone knows what you are like.”

He propped a pillow behind my head. Sitting up was uncomfortable for me, but I tried not to complain. “Is this okay?” he asked gently.

I gritted my teeth and nodded. There was not a single part of me that felt or operated as it once had. I thought about Leo, when he’d been in the crash, and Yuji, and of course, my nana. I had not been patient enough with any of them.

He set the chessboard on my bed tray. “Pawns move forward. They seem boring but the game is won or lost on pawn management, which is something a politician like myself knows perfectly well. The queen is very powerful. She can do anything she wants.”

“What happens if she’s hurt?”

“The game goes on, but it’s much more difficult to win. It’s best to watch your queen.”

I cupped the black queen in my hand. “I feel so stupid, Mr. Delacroix,” I said. “You told me to hire security over and over again. If I’d listened, I wouldn’t be in the situation I’m in. You must be glad to be right.”

“In this instance, I am not glad in the least to be right, and you shouldn’t blame yourself. You would not be you if you didn’t insist upon doing things your way.”

“My way is seeming fairly stupid at this point.”

“That’s in the past, Anya,” he said in a matter-of-fact voice. “We are where we are. Sophia Bitter was a psychopath, and I am astonished that you managed to survive. Now the knight is perhaps the most difficult piece to master. He moves in an L.”

“How do you know the knight’s a he?” I asked. “There could be anything under that armor.”

He smiled at me. “Good girl.”

At the end of November, I checked out of the hospital and moved back to Yuji Ono’s house. A nurse came with me, and she set me up in Yuji’s old room, which was the most convenient room in the house. I tried not to think of the fact that the last inhabitant of this room had died slowly and painfully.

By December, I was moving around with a walker. By February, I had crutches. By the middle of March, my cast came off, revealing a spectacularly lifeless foot in sickly shades of yellow, green, and gray. Structurally, it did not look sound either: the arch was flat, my ankle was as skinny as my wrist, and my toes curled strangely and uselessly. I looked at those toes and wondered what purpose they had ever served. I would rather have avoided the spectacle of my foot, though this was not an option—I had to look at it constantly, because it didn’t work! When I set my foot down, I could not feel the ground. They gave me a brace and a cane. I lurched around like a zombie. It is beyond boring to have to instruct your brain to move your leg and then your leg to move your foot and then to have to check to see where the ground is with every step.

As for the rest of my body? It was not what I would call attractive. Thick pink scars snaked up the middle of my chest, under my shoulder, down my lower back, across my neck, down my leg and foot, under my chin. Some of the scars were from the attack; some were from the measures the doctors had taken to save my life. What I looked like was a girl who had been stabbed by a maniac and had heart surgery, which is exactly what I was. When exiting the bath, I tried not to consider myself too closely. I took to wearing long, loose, high-necked dresses, which Mr. Delacroix said made me look like a frontierswoman.

The truth was, the scars did not bother me very much. I was far more self-conscious about the fact that my foot didn’t work properly and far more annoyed by the constant pain I was in due to the nerve damage I’d sustained from being stabbed in the spine.

Pain … for a long time, that was all I could think about. The person known as Anya Balanchine had been replaced with a body that hurt. I was a throbbing, aching, monstrous, cranky ball. It did not make me pleasant to be around, I am sure. (I am not what you would call an upbeat person to start with.)

As I was afraid of slipping and falling, I stayed indoors a lot that winter.

I took up reading.

I played chess with Mr. Delacroix.

I began to feel ever so slightly better. I even considered turning on my slate, but I decided against it. In my current condition, I did not wish to hear from Win. I did however speak to Theo, Mouse, and Scarlet on the phone. Sometimes, Scarlet would put Felix on the line. He wasn’t that great a conversationalist, but I liked talking to him anyway. At the very least, he never asked me how I was feeling.

“What’s going on, kid?” I said.

What was going on was that my three-year-old godson had a girlfriend. Her name was Ruby, and she was an older woman—four. She’d proposed marriage, but he wasn’t sure he was ready. She was nice most of the time, but boy, could she be bossy. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he suspected he might have been tricked into marrying her already. There had been an ambiguous incident involving a kiss in a coat cubby and what had been either the loan or the gift of a can of clay. As he somewhat lacked for vocabulary, this story took about an hour to tell, but it was fine. I had time.

And then, because the world is relentless this way, it was spring.

The sakura trees on Yuji’s estate bloomed, the ground thawed, and I began to fear falling less. There were even signs of life in my dead foot, and I could more or less make myself end up where I wanted to go, though it took a million years.

I sometimes walked the path to the pond where I had been attacked. The trip that had taken me less than five minutes a half dozen months ago now took me forty. The fish were still alive. The blood had been scoured away. There was no evidence that I had killed someone there and had almost been killed myself. The world is relentless in this way, too.

More often than not, Mr. Delacroix came with me. Still, we did not speak much of business, which is what we had always spoken of before. Instead, we talked of our families: his son, his wife, my childhood, his childhood, my mother, my father, my siblings, my nana. He had been orphaned when he was young. His father, who had been in coffee, had killed himself when the Rimbaud laws went into effect. He was adopted when he was twelve by a wealthy family, fell in love with a girl at fifteen—his ex-wife, Win’s mother. He was heartbroken over the divorce and he loved his wife still, though he accepted that he was at fault and held out little hope that there would be a happy ending in his future.

“Was it the club?” I asked him. “Is that why you divorced?”

“No, Anya. It was much more than that. It was years of neglect and bad choices on my part. You have a thousand chances to make something right. That’s a heck of a lot of chances, by the way. But they do run out eventually.”

Mr. Delacroix encouraged me to venture from Yuji’s estate, even for an afternoon, but I was reluctant. I preferred hobbling around where no one could see me. “Some day you’ll have to leave here,” he said.

I tried not to think about that.

The second to last Sunday in April, Mr. Delacroix insisted we go out. “I have a reason you can’t argue with.”

“I doubt that,” I said. “I can argue with anything.”

“Have you forgotten what today is?”

Nothing came to mind.

“It’s Easter,” he said. “The day even lapsed Catholics like you and me manage to darken the church’s door. I see you are more lapsed than I thought.”

I was beyond lapsed. What I truly believed was that I was beyond redemption. Since the last time I’d gone to Mass with Scarlet and Felix, I’d killed a person. There was no point in believing in Heaven if you were certain the only place you could end up was Hell. “Mr. Delacroix, you can’t have found a Catholic church in Osaka.”

“There are Catholics everywhere, Anya.”

“I’m surprised you even go on Easter,” I said.

“You mean because I am so evil, I suppose. But sinners especially deserve their annual portion of redemption, don’t you think?”

The courtyard had granite statues of the Virgin Mary and Jesus. Both had Japanese features. Usually, Jesus reminded me of Theo, but in Osaka, he looked more like Yuji Ono.

The liturgy was the same as it was in New York—mostly Latin, though the English parts were in Japanese. It was not hard for me to follow. I knew what was being said, and I knew when to nod my assent, whether I meant it or not.

I found myself thinking of Sophia Bitter.

I could still see her face when I’d plunged that machete through her heart.

I could smell the scent of her blood mixed with mine.

If given the chance, I would kill her again.

So I probably wouldn’t be going to Heaven. No amount of church or confession could fix me anymore. The Easter service was lovely though. I was glad to have gone.

We both decided to skip confession. Who even knew if the priest spoke English?

“Do you feel renewed?” Mr. Delacroix asked me on the way out.

“I feel the same,” I said. I wanted to ask him if he’d ever killed anyone, but I doubted that he had. “When I was sixteen, I used to feel like I was so bad. I went to confession constantly. I always felt like I was failing someone. My grandmother, my brother. And I had bad thoughts about my parents. And of course, the usual impure thoughts that teenage girls are wont to have—nothing that awful. But in the years since, I’ve actually sinned, Mr. Delacroix. And I can’t help but laugh at that girl who thought she was so terrible. She’d done nothing. Except maybe having been born to the wrong family in the wrong city in the wrong year.”

He stopped walking. “Even now, what have you done really?”

“I’m not going to list everything.” I paused. “I killed a woman.”

“In self-defense.”

“But still, I wanted to be alive more than I wanted her to be alive. Wouldn’t a truly good person have let herself die by that koi pond?”

“No.”

“But even if that is true, it wasn’t like I was blameless. She didn’t choose me at random. She chose me because she perceived that I had stolen something from her. And I probably had.”

“The guilt is pointless, Anya. Remember: you are as good as you are tomorrow.”

“You can’t honestly believe that?”

“I have to,” he said.

One day toward the end of April, I asked him, “Mr. Delacroix, why are you still here? You must have business in the States. When we left, you were discussing a run for mayor.”

“My plans changed,” he said. “It hasn’t been ruled out.”

We had arrived at the pond, and he helped me to the bench.

“You know, perhaps, that I had a daughter once?”

“Win’s sister, who died.”

“She did. She was very pretty, like you. She was sharp-tongued, like me. And also like you. Jane and I had her when we were young, still in high school, but luckily Jane’s parents had money so it did not affect our lives as dramatically as it might have in the absence of money. My daughter got sick. It was exhausting for everyone. My ex-wife, my son. Alexa fought very hard for a bit over a year, and then she died. My family was not the same. I could no longer be at home. I did things I’m not proud of. I forced them to move to New York City so that I could take the job in the district attorney’s office. I thought it might be a fresh start, but it wasn’t. I could not bear to be with my wife or my son because it made me too unhappy.”

“That is a very sad story,” I said.

“Would you like it to get even sadder?”

“No. My heart is damaged. It probably can’t take such a narrative.”

“My son, in the year 2082, moves to New York City, and within a week of starting a brand-new school, within a week of what was meant to be our fresh start, he manages to fall in love with a girl who is a ringer for his dead sister. Not particularly in looks, but in behavior, in manner. She has that rare kind of sturdiness that even grown women rarely have. If the boy notices this, he never mentions it, seems blissfully unaware. But the first time I meet her, I am shocked.”

“I couldn’t tell.”

“I am very good at concealing what I am feeling.”

“Like me.”

“Like you. And I have questioned the motivations for my behavior when you and my son got together. And lately, in my old age, I have even come to regret it.”

“You? Regrets?”

“A few. And so it is 2087, and I find myself with a second chance. Theo was willing to come to Osaka, but I wanted to do it myself. Helping you has felt redemptive to me. It was a redemption I did not even think I had a right to hope for.”

“Because I remind you of your daughter?”

“That, yes. But because of yourself, too. You are in my life. I called you my colleague, but you were right to say you were my friend. I felt as if the whole world had given up on me after I lost that election, but you, who had every reason to be cruel to me, had not. Do you remember what you said to me?”

I did. “I said I hadn’t counted you out. You’d been such an enormous annoyance to me. How could I have counted you out? I was being nice, by the way,” I said.

“Be that as it may, it came at a time when very few people were being nice to me, and, well, your friendship in the years since has meant more to me than perhaps I can even express. I am a hard person to know. And so I am here because I must be here. I am here because I know what you are like. I know that you wouldn’t have asked for the help you needed. You’re a proud, stubborn thing and I could not leave you in a foreign country, broken and alone. Long ago, you did me a good turn, and despite what you or the world might think of me, I pay my debts.”

It had begun to rain so he helped me off the bench. He offered me his arm and I took it. The path was slick with moisture, and it was hard for my damaged foot to negotiate.

“You’re doing much better,” he said. “Just go slow.”

“I have no choice but to go slow.”

“It is nearly summer, Anya. You are much better than you were, and the business with the Light Bars is about concluded. I think we should both return to New York.”

I did not reply for a moment. The world that I had left, with its stairs and buses and boys and plots and gangsters, seemed too much to even consider.

“What is it?” Mr. Delacroix asked.

“Mr. Delacroix, if I tell you something, will you promise not to judge me? I feel weak saying this but I am scared to go back. The city is so difficult to manage. I do feel better, but I know I will never be the same. I don’t want to face the Family or the people in the business, and I do not feel strong enough to go back to my life yet.”

He nodded. I thought he would tell me not to be scared, but he didn’t. “You have been terribly hurt, I can understand why you might feel that way. Let me think of a plan.”

“I didn’t mean that you had to do anything about it. I only wanted to say how I was feeling.”

“Anya, if you tell me a problem, I will try my best to fix it.”

The next day, he proposed a solution. “My ex-wife, Ms. Rothschild, has a farm outside Albany, in a town called Niskayuna. You might remember that she is a farmer by trade?”

I did. Win used to help her out. The first time I met him, I remembered thinking that his hands didn’t look like a city boy’s.

“The farm is incredibly peaceful. And Jane would be delighted to host you and your sister for the summer. You could rest up, relieved from the burden of city life. I will visit you when I am able. And then at the end of the summer, you’ll go back to New York City a new woman, I feel quite sure.”

“And she isn’t angry with me because of the club?”

“That was years ago, and she blames me, not you, for anything that might have happened. She was always appalled by my behavior where you were concerned, as you have probably guessed. If you’re worried about Win being there, I believe he’s undertaking a premed program in Boston. He won’t be in Niskayuna for more than a couple of days at the end of August, at the most.”

“Good.” I was in no condition to see him.

“So you’ll go?”

“I will,” I said. “I’ve always wanted to get out of the city for the summer.”

“Have you never gone away?” he asked.

“One year, I came close to going to Teen Crime Scene Summer, a program for budding criminologists in Washington, DC, but I struck a deal with the acting district attorney that landed me at Liberty Children’s instead.”

“I imagine the experience was character-building for you.”

“Oh, it was. Enormously.” I rolled my eyes. “Though I have had no shortage of character-building experiences in my life.”

“At this point,” he said, “I think we can safely consider your character built.”

XXII I EXPERIENCE THE SUMMER LIFE; EAT A STRAWBERRY; LEARN TO SWIM

THE HOUSE IN NISKAYUNA was white with gray shutters. In the back was a deck, and the Mohawk River streamed pleasantly by. To the side was farmland—I could see peach trees, corn, cucumbers, and tomatoes. The place looked like summer to me, but not the kind of summer I had ever known. Summer as I had imagined other, more fortunate people lived it.

Ms. Rothschild greeted me with a hug followed immediately by an expression of concern. “Oh my dear, you are nothing but bones.”

I knew it was true. At my last doctor’s appointment, I had weighed less than I had at twelve years old. I was skinny like someone with a disease.

“Looking at you, I want to cry. What may I feed you?”

“I’m not hungry,” I said. The truth was, I had lost my appetite since I’d been injured.

“Charlie,” she said to her ex-husband, “this situation won’t do.” She turned to me. “What are your favorite foods?”

“I’m not sure I have any,” I said.

She looked at me with an appalled expression. “Anya, you must have a favorite food. Please, explain. What did your mother make for you?”

“At home, you know, my parents died when I was pretty young, and my nana was sick, and I was responsible for the meals, so I basically made whatever came out of a box or a bag. I’m not that into food, and I guess, um, that’s why I’ve kind of quit eating. It doesn’t seem worth the bother. For a while I liked mole, but now it kind of has bad associations.” I was rambling.

“Don’t you even like chocolate?” Ms. Rothschild asked.

“It’s not my favorite. I mean, I get it, but it’s not my favorite.” I paused. “I used to like oranges.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not growing them right now.” She furrowed her brow. “It would take me three months to get a crop going, but by then, you’ll be gone. The Friedmans down the road might be growing them, so maybe I can arrange a trade. In the meantime, how about a peach?”

“I’m really not hungry,” I said. “Thank you for the offer. I’ve been traveling a long time. Would you mind showing me to my room?”

Ms. Rothschild barked at her ex-husband to get my suitcase. She linked her arm through mine. “How good are you with stairs?”

“Not great.”

“Charlie said that might be the case. I have a room for you on the ground floor. It’s my favorite bedroom and it looks out on the deck.”

She led me into the bedroom, which had a wide wooden bed with a white cotton cover on it. “Wait,” I said. “Is this your room?” It looked suspiciously like a master bedroom.

“This summer, it’s yours,” she said.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take your bedroom. Mr. Delacroix said something about a spare room.”

“The bed’s too big for me anyway. I’m sleeping alone these days and probably indefinitely. When your sister comes, she can share the room with you, if she likes. It’s big enough. Or she can take a different one upstairs.”

She kissed me on the cheek. “Tell me if I can get you anything,” she said. “I am glad you’ve come. The farm likes visitors, and so do I.”

The next day, Mr. Delacroix left for the city, and my sister arrived.

My sister was not alone, though I suppose this should not have come as a surprise.

“Win,” I said. “They didn’t say you were coming.” I was sitting at the kitchen table. I did not get up. I didn’t want to have to walk in front of him.

“I wanted to come,” he said. “I’ve always liked this house, and the summer program I was supposed to go to didn’t end up working out. Natty said she was coming, so I thought I’d make the trip with her.”

Natty hugged me. “You look awful, but at the same time, you look so much better,” she said. “Both awful and better.”

“A mixed review,” I said.

“Show me where the bedroom is. Win’s mom said we could share. It will be like when we were little.” Win was still watching us, and I didn’t want to have to rise from the table in front of him. I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me, I guess. “Win can show you,” I said. “It’s the master. I’ll be along in a minute. I want to finish my water.”

Natty considered me. “Win,” she said, “could you leave Annie and me alone for a second?”

Win nodded. “Nice seeing you, Annie,” he said casually as he left.

She lowered her voice. “Something is wrong. What is it?”

“Well, I move like an old woman and it’s actually kind of hard for me to get up from this chair without my cane, which I left over there.” I pointed to the cupboard. “And I get … well … well, I get embarrassed.”

“Annie,” she said, “you’re being silly.” She took two graceful, easy steps, grabbed the cane, and handed it to me.

She offered me her arm, and I awkwardly shuffled to my feet.

“Isn’t this place beautiful?” she said rapturously. “I’m so glad to be here. Isn’t Win’s mom so pretty and nice? She looks like him, no? Aren’t we lucky?”

“Natty, you shouldn’t have invited Win.”

She shrugged. “It’s his mother’s house. Of course he was going to come. Besides, it was his father who invited him, not me, so I assumed it was fine with you. Aren’t you two thick as thieves now?”

Mr. Delacroix, I thought, et tu, Brute?

“Win already knew I was coming, and he asked me if I wanted to travel with him, not the other way around.” She paused to look at me. “Seeing him won’t be awful for you, will it?”

“No, of course not. It’ll be fine. You’re right. I don’t know what my problem was back there. I suppose I was surprised. The truth is, he’s like a different person and so am I. And those new people don’t even know each other.”

“So no chance that you’ll try to rekindle the romance? It is very romantic here.”

“No, Natty. All that is done. And I have no interest in romance with anyone at the moment. Possibly ever.”

She looked like she wanted to say something more, but she bit her tongue.

We ate dinner on the porch, though I was still not hungry. Despite what I had said to Natty, I felt angry at Mr. Delacroix for inviting me, angry at Win for coming, and angry at Natty for not knowing enough to tell Win to stay in Boston. I excused myself before dessert, which was peach cobbler, and went to bed.

As would become my custom, I woke at dawn to drag myself around the farm. I knew I needed to exercise, but I didn’t want anyone to watch me. Then I limped over to a deck chair and lay down with a book.

Every day, Win and Natty went on excursions, like kayaking, trips to the farmers’ market, and horseback riding. They tried to include me, but I resisted activities.

One afternoon, they came home with a carton of strawberries from a nearby farm. “We picked these for you,” Natty said. Her cheeks were ruddy, and her long black hair was so shiny and glossy that I thought I could practically use it as a mirror. The truth was, I couldn’t remember her ever having been prettier. Her prettiness struck me as aggressive and almost offensive. It was a reminder of how not pretty I looked at that moment.

“I’m not hungry,” I said.

“You always say that,” Natty said, popping one into her mouth. “I’ll leave them for you then.” She set them on the table next to my chair. “Can we get you anything else?”

“I’m fine.”

She sighed and looked as if she might argue with me. “You should eat,” she said. “You won’t get well if you don’t eat.”

I picked up my book.

Later that afternoon, just before sunset, Win returned to the deck. He took the carton of strawberries, which I had not touched. We had not spoken much since he’d arrived. I didn’t think he was avoiding me, but I really was awful company and I did nothing to encourage conversation. “Hey,” he said.

I nodded.

He was wearing a white shirt. He rolled up the sleeves. He took a single, perfect red strawberry from the carton. He carefully removed its leafy crown. He got down on one knee by my chair. He placed the strawberry in the center of the palm of his hand, and without looking at me, he held out his hand to me, as if I were an old dog that might turn on him. “Please, Annie, have this one,” he said in a soft, pleading tone.

“Oh, Win,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “I’m fine. Really, I’m fine.”

“Just the one,” he implored. “For old times’ sake. I know you aren’t mine and I’m not yours, so I probably don’t have a right to ask you to do anything. But I hate seeing you so frail.”

This might have hurt my feelings, but it was said in an incredibly kind way. Besides, I knew how I looked. I was bones and messy hair and scars. I wasn’t trying to starve myself in some dramatic fashion. I was tired and I hurt and that took up the time I used to devote to feeding myself. “Do you truly think that one strawberry will make a difference?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

I leaned my head down and took the strawberry from his hand. For a fraction of a second, I let my lips rest on his palm. I took the strawberry in my mouth. The flavor was sweet, but delicate and strange, wild and a bit tart.

He took his hand back and closed it with resolve. A second later, he left without another word.

I picked up the carton, and I ate another strawberry.

The next afternoon, he brought me an orange. He peeled it and offered me a single section in the same way he had offered me that strawberry. He set the rest of the orange on the table and then he left.

And the afternoon after that, he brought me a kiwi. He took out a knife and removed its skin. He cut it into seven even slices and set a single one on his hand.

“Wherever did you get a kiwi?” I asked.

“I have my ways,” he said.

And then he brought me an enormous peach—pinkish orange and perfect, without a single bruise. He took a knife from his pocket. He was about to cut it, but I put my hand on his. “I think I’ll eat the whole peach, but promise not to watch me. I can tell it’s going to be messy.”

“As you wish,” he said. He took out his book, and he began to read.

The juice ran down my chin and hands, as I had expected. The peach was pulpy and so good I almost felt emotional as I ate it. I laughed for what felt like the first time in months. “I’m so dirty,” I said.

He took his handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me.

“Was this from your mother’s orchard?”

“Yes, it seemed a particularly good peach, so I saved it for you. But as for the rest, I take Natty, and we trade my mother’s crops at the other farms.”

“I didn’t know this many kinds of fruit could grow in the same season?”

“See for yourself. You could come with us,” he said. “It would mean leaving this chair, though.”

“I am attached to this chair, Win. We have a relationship.”

“I can see that,” he said. “But Natty and I wouldn’t mind having your company if the chair could spare you. Your sister is worried about you.”

“I don’t want anyone to worry about me.”

“She thinks you are depressed. You don’t eat. You don’t much want to go anywhere. You are so quiet. And of course there’s the matter of this chair.”

“Why doesn’t she say this to me herself?”

“You’re not the easiest person in the world to talk to.”

“What do you mean? I’m easy to talk to.”

“No, you’re not. Once upon a time, I was your boyfriend, or have you forgotten?” His hand was hanging over the side of his chair and his fingertips grazed mine. I moved my hand.

Suddenly, he stood and offered me his hand. “Come with me,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

“Win, I’d like to but I move pretty slow now.”

“It’s summer in upstate New York, Annie. Nothing moves very fast.” He offered me his hand.

I looked at the hand, then I looked at the boy attached to it. I was a bit scared. In those days, I didn’t like to go places I hadn’t been before.

“You still trust me, don’t you?”

I grabbed my cane from under my chair and then I took his hand.

We walked maybe a half mile, which was a long way when your foot did not move without a reminder.

“Are you sorry you asked me to come with you yet?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “I am sorry for quite a few things when it comes to you, but not this.”

“Sorry you ever met me, I suppose.”

He did not reply.

I was out of breath. “Are we almost there?” I asked.

“Only about another five hundred feet. It’s in that barn right up there.”

“Is that coffee I smell?”

Indeed, Win had taken me to a coffee speakeasy. On the back counter, an antique espresso machine steamed and chirped, blithely unaware that it was in the process of manufacturing a drug. The top of the machine was a dented copper dome that reminded me of a Russian cathedral. Win ordered me a cup, and then he introduced me to the owner.

“Anya Balanchine?” the owner said. “Naw, you’re too young to be Anya Balanchine. You’re a bona fide folk hero. When are you going to do for coffee what you did for chocolate?”

“Well, I—”

“I’d like to stop running my coffee shop from a barn someday. Free coffee for Anya Balanchine. Hey Win, how’s your dad?”

“He’s running for mayor.”

“Give him my regards, would you?”

Win said he would, and the owner led us over to a wrought-iron table for two by the window.

“People are impressed with you in these parts,” Win said.

“Listen, Win, I’m sorry if I’ve ruined your vacation. I didn’t know you’d be here. Your dad said you’d only be staying for a couple of days in August.”

Win shook his head, then stirred cream into his espresso. “I’m glad to see you,” he said. “I hope I’m a little helpful to you.”

“You are helpful to me,” I said after a while. “You have always been helpful to me.”

“If you wanted more, all you would have to do is ask.”

I changed the subject. “You are a senior next year, and then medical school?”

“Yes.”

“So you must have taken premed. What’s my prognosis?”

“I’m not a doctor yet, Anya.”

“But looking at me, what do you think? I would like an honest opinion of what a person sees when he or she looks at me.”

“I think you look as if you’ve been through something unimaginably terrible,” he said finally. “However, I suspect if I met you today, if I were walking into this coffee shop, having never seen you before, I’d walk across this room and if no one was sitting across from you and maybe even if someone was, I’d take off my hat and I’d offer to buy you a cup of coffee.”

“And then you’d meet me, and you’d find out bad things about me, and you’d probably walk right out the door.”

“What things could I possibly find out?”

I looked at him. “You know. Stuff that sends a nice boy in a hat careening off in the opposite direction.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I’m still stupid when it comes to dark-haired, green-eyed girls.”

On the way back, it began to rain. It was difficult to maneuver my cane on the moist and loamy ground. “Lean into me,” he said. “I won’t let you fall.”

The next day, I went back out to the deck. I had found an old copy of Sense and Sensibility on the bookshelf in the office, and I had decided to read it.

“You read a lot these days,” Win said.

“I’ve taken it up now that I’m a shut-in.”

“Well, I won’t interrupt you,” he said.

He lay down on the chair next to mine and picked up his book.

His presence distracted me from my reading. “How is school?” I said.

“You always ask that. We spoke of it yesterday.”

“I’m interested. I didn’t get to go to college.”

“You could still go.” He put his hand over my face to shield it from the sun. “You should get a sun hat, by the way.”

“It seems too late for that.”

“Which? College or sun hats?”

“Both. I meant college, though I’ve never been a hat person,” I said.

He took off his own hat and set it on my head. “I’ve never known a girl who needed a hat more. Why wouldn’t you want an added layer of protection from the sun and everything else? By the way, you’re only twenty.”

“Twenty-one next month.”

“People go to college at different times,” Win said. “You have the money.”

I looked at Win. “I’m a shadow crime boss. I run nightclubs. I don’t see college in my future.”

“As you like, Anya.” He set down his book. “No. Do you know what your problem is?”

“I suppose you are going to tell me.”

“You have always been far too fatalistic. I’ve wanted to say that to you for the longest time.”

“Why didn’t you? Get it off your chest. It isn’t good to keep your feelings inside, I should know.”

“When I was your boyfriend, I had an interest in avoiding conflict.”

“So you let me think I was right?” I said. “The whole time we were together?”

“Not the whole time. Sometimes.”

“Until that last time, and then you were out the door.” I tried to make this a joke. “For a couple of days, I thought you might come back.”

“So did I. But I was so angry with you. Besides, wouldn’t you have hated me if I had come back? That’s what I told myself. If I relent, she won’t love me anyway. So better to have some dignity.”

“High school relationships aren’t meant to last forever,” I said. “It seems like we’re talking about other people. I don’t even feel sad anymore when I think of it.”

“Aren’t you the most fantastically evolved young adult on this deck?” He picked up his old paperback book.

“What are you reading anyway?” I asked.

He held up the book.

“The Godfather,” I read.

“Yes, it’s about an organized-crime family. I should have read it years ago.”

“Are you learning about me?”

“Indeed,” he said with mirth in his voice. “I finally understand you.”

“So?”

“You had to open that club and you had to do everything you could to make it succeed. All that had been decided long before I ever met you.”

In August, the weather turned miserable. I could not wear my long dresses and sweaters anymore, which meant showing more of my skin than I was comfortable with. Win’s mother suggested that we go swimming in the river. She insisted that swimming would be good for my recovery. She was probably right, but I didn’t know how to swim. I had been born in New York City in 2066, the summer the pools had been drained to conserve water. “Win could teach you,” Ms. Rothschild said. “He’s an excellent swimmer.”

Win gave his mother a look that was a pretty close approximation to what I was feeling about the idea of him teaching me to swim.

“Jane, I would rather not,” he said.

Ms. Rothschild shook her head at her son. “I don’t like it when you call me Jane. I’m not clueless, Win. I know the two of you were romantic once, but what difference does that make? Anya should learn to swim while she is here. It will be good for her.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t even have a swimsuit.” I had never needed one.

“You’ll borrow one of mine,” she said.

In my room, I put on her swimsuit, which hung on me. The swimsuit was pretty modest in cut, though I still felt incredibly exposed. I threw on a T-shirt, but you could still see a bit of the scar that was below my collarbone.

If Win noticed it, he did not say.

Not that he would have. The boy had always had manners.

When I got into the water, he didn’t say much actually. He told me to get on my stomach. He held me up. He demonstrated how to kick and how to move my arms. It took me no time to catch on. I was good at swimming, which was easy compared to walking.

“It’s too bad they didn’t have a swim team at Trinity,” I said. “Maybe I should say it’s too bad there weren’t any pools in New York City.”

“Maybe your whole life would have been different.”

“I would have been a jock,” I said.

“I can see that. The famous Balanchine aggression would have been useful in athletic competition.”

“Right. I wouldn’t have dumped that lasagna on Gable Arsley’s head. I would have had productive channels for my anger.”

“But if you hadn’t dumped that lasagna on Gable’s head, how would I have known where to come and meet you?”

I swam a bit away from the deck. After a minute, he swam after me. “Not so fast,” he said. “You’re still a beginner.”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me to him so that we were facing each other in the water.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I think my mother is as manipulative as my father.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mother, with her absurd and transparent notion that I should teach you to swim. And my father … I think he has the idea that if he can get us back together, then he’ll have redeemed himself for 2082.”

“Ridiculous man,” I said. “It was really 2082 and 2083.”

“But one must ask the question: Is the only reason that stupid boy ever liked you because his ambitious father objected? Isn’t that what you always told me? My point is, maybe Dad’s plan is faulty. Because maybe those cute young people need obstacles, you and me. Maybe once the star-crossed become unstar-crossed, Romeo gets bored with Juliet.”

“Well, there are still a few obstacles,” I said. “I was married, and no matter how you look at it, it was basically a marriage of convenience.”

“You’re saying I should consider the fact that you are a person of low morals, ethics, and character to be an impediment.”

“Yes, that is what I’m saying.”

He shrugged. “I knew that about you a long time ago.”

“And I killed someone. In self-defense, but still. And my body is broken. I’m pretty much like a fifty-year-old woman. I move about as fast as my nana.”

“You look okay,” he said. He tucked a curl behind my ear.

“And the timing is wrong. I want to come to you when I am strong and beautiful and successful.”

“Do you want me to say that you are all those things still, or will you roll your pretty green eyes at me?”

“I will roll my eyes at you. I have a mirror, Win, though I try to avoid it.”

“From where I am, the view is not that bad.”

“You haven’t seen me naked,” I said.

He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

“Well, it wasn’t an invitation, if that’s what you’re thinking. It was reportage.”

“I’m”—he cleared his throat again—“I’m sure it’s not so bad.”

“Come closer,” I said. I thought I’d settle the matter. I lowered the scoop neck of my T-shirt to show him the large, bumpy pink scar from my heart surgery and the one from where the sword had gone all the way through.

His eyes grew wide and he inhaled sharply. “It is a bad scar,” he said in a subdued voice. He put his hand on the scar that ran below my collarbone, which was dangerously close to my breast. “Did it hurt?”

“Like crazy,” I said. He closed his eyes and looked like he might kiss me. I pulled my T-shirt back up. I swam over to the dock, my heart beating just short of an attack, and I climbed up the ladder as quickly as I could.

XXIII I BID FAREWELL TO SUMMER IN A SERIES OF UNCOMFORTABLY EMOTIONAL VIGNETTES

“I HATE WHEN SUMMER ENDS,” Ms. Rothschild said, waving her hand in front of her face. I had found her crying in the farm’s library. “Don’t mind me, though. Come sit for a spell.” She patted the place on the couch next to her. I returned Persuasion to the shelf—I’d worked my way through all of Jane Austen that summer—and then I sat down. Ms. Rothschild put her arm around my shoulders. “It has been a good summer, hasn’t it? You look a tiny bit plumper and rosier, I think.”

“I feel better,” I said.

“I am glad to hear it. I hope you have been happy here. It has been delightful having you and your sister. Please come back anytime. I am thankful to my ex-husband for thinking of it. I always liked you, you know, even when Charlie was so dead set against the match with Win. We argued about it quite a bit back then. He insisted it was just a high school romance, and I said, no, that girl is special. But these many years later, Mr. Delacroix has come to the opinion that I was right, which he always does, by the way, and I know we both have had our fingers crossed that you and Win might find your way back together.”

“It’s not to be.”

“May I ask why, Anya?”

“Well … I was widowed less than a year ago, and I was so badly hurt. It’s hard to imagine a relationship with anyone until I feel more like myself. And, the truth is, romantically, I question a lot of the choices I’ve made. I’ve made so many mistakes while thinking I was doing exactly the right thing. I think I need a break from relationships.”

“That is probably sensible,” Ms. Rothschild said after a pause.

“Besides, I think what Win truly feels toward me is nostalgia, and he is good to me because of our shared past,” I said. “You raised the world’s most decent boy, so congratulations for that.”

“I had help,” she said. “Win forgets, but Charlie was a pretty good father most of the time, too.”

“I can believe that,” I said.

“Can you? Most people look at me like I’m insane when I defend that man…” She shook her head. “Do you know what? I am done listing Charles Delacroix’s attributes. I’ve been defending him nearly my whole life. To my friends. To my parents. To our son. I am done.”

“We spoke of you quite often in Japan. He still loves you, you know.”

“Yes, but that isn’t enough. I’ve been disappointed in him for twenty-five years. I am finally done with that, too,” she said.

“I think Mr. Delacroix has changed.”

“But then the election will happen and he’ll go right back to the way he was before.” She nodded to herself, then she took out her phone. “Have you ever seen a picture of Win’s sister?”

I shook my head and looked at the screen. She had light brown, wavy hair, and blue eyes like Win’s. In the photo, she was rolling those eyes. Aside from the expression, I didn’t see a resemblance.

“The problem with meeting new people is not that you might not like them, but that you will like them too much. Now that I know you, I’ll worry about you in the city, Anya,” Ms. Rothschild said. She clasped my hand in hers.

“I’ve been on my own for years. I’ll be fine.”

She looked at me, then she brushed my hair away from my forehead. “I’m certain you will be.”

When I went back to our room, Natty wasn’t there so I went outside to look for her. I found her crying in the gazebo. “Please, Anya, leave me alone.”

“What is it, Natty? What has happened?”

“I love him,” she said.

“You love who?” I asked.

“Who do you think?” She paused. “Win. Of course, Win.”

I considered this information. “I knew you had a crush on him when you were a child, but I had no idea you still did.”

“He is so good, Annie. Look how he has been this summer, trying to make you feel better, even after so much time has passed.” She sighed. “He still sees me like a kid, though.”

“How do you know? Have you spoken to him?”

“I’ve more than spoken to him. I tried to kiss him.”

“Natty!”

“We were picking apples for his mother. The first ones are starting to come in. And he looked so handsome, standing there in his blue-checked shirt. I’m sick with loving him,” she said.

“Natty, I had no idea you felt this way.”

“How could you not know? I’ve loved him since I was twelve. Since the moment we met him in Headmaster’s office.”

“What did he do when you tried to kiss him?”

“He pushed me away, and said he didn’t think of me like that. And I said I was seventeen, and that was hardly a child. And he said in fact it was. And I said you met Anya when you were sixteen. And he said that was different because he’d been young then, too. And then he said that he loved me like a friend and like a brother and that he would always be there for me. But then I pushed him away. I told him I didn’t want to be loved that way. I can’t even stand to look at him anymore.”

She sobbed with her entire body—her shoulders, her stomach, her mouth, and all her other parts were aligned in a unified display of misery.

“Oh Natty, please don’t cry.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I told him what you said at the beginning of the summer. I told him that you said that you would never get back together with him, but I think maybe he still has hope. Maybe if he knew there wasn’t any hope, he could love me instead. We’re not so different.”

“My darling Natty, would you honestly want some boy to love you because he thought you were like me?”

“I don’t care why. I wouldn’t even care! That’s how much I love him.”

“I don’t think Win thinks that we’re getting back together. But do you want me to try to talk to him?” I wanted her happiness more than my own.

“Would you?” Those eyes were wet and hopeful.

“I will make sure he understands,” I said. “And before summer is over, too.”

After dinner, I asked Win if he would go on a walk with me.

We wandered into the orchard, where the last peaches of summer were dropping from the trees. Win found one still on the branch and picked it. His torso was long and lean as he extended his arm to reach it. He offered me the peach, but I declined.

“I want to talk to you about something,” I said.

“What is it?” He took a bite of the peach.

“My sister,” I said.

“Yes, I thought that subject might come up.”

“She has the idea that if you knew that I didn’t think we were ever getting back together that you might be more open to … I’m sorry, this is awkward.”

“Perhaps I can help. She thinks that the reason I don’t want to start a relationship with her is because I still have feelings for you. And to answer your query, she’s wrong. I think she’s smart and adorable and everything a girl should be, but even if there were no Anya, Natty would not be for me. Are you sure you don’t want a peach? They’re very sweet this time of year.”

“Then why have you spent so much time with her? You can understand why she might have gotten the wrong idea.”

“Because you asked me to. Or have you forgotten that you did? Three years ago, you dispatched me to Sacred Heart.”

“Win.”

“I did it because it was something I could do for you. You so rarely, even when we were dating, asked me for help. Even though our relationship had ended badly, I was happy to do something for you.”

“Why are you so good?”

“Because I have nice parents, who loved me as best they could. That’s probably why.”

“Even your dad.”

“Yes, even my father. He wants to do big things, like you, and that isn’t easy. He did his best. I’m older now, and I see that. He was adamant that I come stay here for the summer, by the way.”

“What do you mean?”

“He said that you had been very injured and that you and your sister would be staying at the house. He said that he had grown very fond of you and wanted you to spend your summer among young people and friends. I, in his estimation, was both.”

“He told me with absolute authority that you wouldn’t be here. Do you know that?”

“That’s Dad.

“I almost wish I could love your sister,” Win said. “She looks like you, except she’s taller and her hair is straighter. She’s less moody than you, and pretty good company, too. But even if she weren’t seventeen years old, I couldn’t. She is not you.

“But back to what you should tell Natty,” he said. “You may tell her that I feel bad if she misunderstood what my feelings were for her. I understand how she may have been misled. Though I never thought of her as anything but a friend, I loved her in her sister’s place for three years. I was eager to see her above anyone else because I wanted to hear all her sister’s news.

“You may tell her that I was already aware, even before I got on the train to Niskayuna, that there was very little chance of her sister and me getting back together. I know that her sister is too stubborn and probably won’t ever forgive me for not supporting her when the club was opening. I know her sister sees impediments that don’t exist, like the fact that she has been through some physical traumas. I wish her sister knew how much I admired her, how much I regret not standing by her, how much I could love her still if someday, when she is feeling herself again, she might let me. You may tell her that when it comes to her sister, I have not much in the way of self-preservation instincts or dignity. She could marry ten other men, and it wouldn’t matter.”

“You shouldn’t wait for me, Win. I can’t right now. I wish I could, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

I did not expect him to smile at me, but that is what he did. He smiled at me and he wiped a tear from my cheek. “I thought you might say that. So here’s the deal and it’s a very simple one. I will love you forever. And in return, you can decide if you want to do anything with that love at some point down the road. But know there is no other girl for me but you. Not your sister. Or anyone else. My lot is to be the boy who loves Anya Balanchine. I made the wrong choice once upon a time and I think I’ve paid for it.” He took my chin in his hand. “And the good thing about my not being your boyfriend or your husband is that you don’t get to tell me what to do,” he said. “So I will wait, because I would rather wait for you than waste my time with someone who isn’t you. And I will focus on the long game. As they say in baseball, losing game one and even game two is no reason to give up on the whole series. When you’re ready, if you’re ever ready, give me the word.”

I looked at the peaches dying on the orchard ground. I watched the sun as it set. I saw the river streaming past. I heard him breathing, softly, and felt my own heart beating, beating. The world became still, and I tried to picture myself in the future. In the future, I was strong and I could run again and I was alone. “What’s the word?” I said softly. “In case I am ever ready. You know I’m not good with these things. What do I say?”

“I’ll make it easy for you, then. All you have to do is tell me to walk you home.”

As the planning for his mayoral campaign had kept him in the city, Mr. Delacroix had been around only intermittently that summer. He came back the day before Natty and I were to leave to help Win’s mother close up the house. I had gone to pick a bag of apples to bring back to the city, and I was taking them into the house when I saw him crossing the lawn toward me.

“You’re looking awfully robust,” he said. “I am feeling pleased with myself for having sent you here.”

“You are always pleased with yourself,” I said.

We went to sit on the deck. He took out the chess set and arranged it on the table.

“Win is gone, I see,” he said.

“Yes.”

“My plan was a complete failure, then?”

I didn’t reply.

“Well, I cannot be blamed. I’ve never tried to play matchmaker before.”

“What a strange man you are. You break something up only to try to put it back together years later.”

“I love my son,” Mr. Delacroix said. “I suspected he hadn’t quite gotten over you, and so I tried to contrive a meeting. I thought your heart might be open to a reunion and that such a reunion might lead to a spot of joy for you. You have had a hard time these years, and it pleased me to imagine that you might be happy for a time. And, as I am not a perfect man, I did not mind the thought of perhaps a little redemption for me.”

I moved my castle. “I don’t know how you ever thought that would work. No one likes being set up by his father. Even if I was gullible enough to believe your lies, Win knew what you were up to from the beginning.”

He positioned his king away from my queen.

I was about to move my queen closer but then I stopped. “Honestly, a few days in August? You might have run the plan by me. If this were business, I’d fire you. I don’t like being set up.”

“Point taken. I am good at plotting, but it is easier to deal with pawns and politicians than human hearts, I am afraid. I see right through you. You are stalling for time. Move, Anya.”

I left my queen where she was and used my pawn to block his other bishop.

“It was a nice plan,” I said, “but I think I am too different from when I was in high school.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said.

I decided to change the subject. “When I get back to the city, I’ve been thinking about looking into producing a line of Dark Room cacao ‘candy’ bars. A bar that people could take home instead of eating at the club. Cacao for shut-ins like myself. There’s still money to be made in chocolate bars, I’d say.”

“It’s an interesting notion.” He advanced his queen and then he looked at me. “Anya, I have something I need to say to you. I imagine you already know what it is. The mayoral campaign means that I will have to step down from the Dark Room. I can help you hire a different lawyer—”

“No, it’s fine,” I said coldly. “I will look for one as soon as I am back in the city.”

“I can make recommendations—”

“I am capable of finding a lawyer, Mr. Delacroix. I found you, didn’t I? I have known lawyers my whole life. The kind of life I’ve led has made me an expert in such arrangements.”

“Anya, are you angry at me? You must have known this day would come.”

The truth was, I had grown very attached to him. I would miss him, but it was too hard to say. I had worked steadfastly to never need anyone my whole life.

“We will see each other,” he said. “I’d even hoped you would be involved in the campaign.”

“Why would you want someone like me involved?” I asked. Yes, I was pouting.

“Listen, stop being foolish, Anya. If there’s anything you ever need, I will provide it, assuming it’s within my ability to do so. Do you know what I’m saying?”

“Good luck, colleague,” I said. I got up and left. I was not very fast though, and he might have caught up with me if he’d wanted to.

I was almost to my room, which I would soon surrender to summer, to the past. As I set my hand on the knob, I wondered what was wrong with me that I could not say to him, Thank you and good luck with the campaign.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t go this way,” Mr. Delacroix said. “I know exactly what you are thinking. I know you so well. I know exactly what thoughts turn behind that opaque visage of yours. You have been abandoned so many times. You think if our business relationship ends, that we will not be in each other’s lives anymore. But we will. You are my friend. You are as dear to me as my own flesh and blood, and as improbable as this is, I love you like my daughter. So good luck, colleague, if that’s what it must be,” he said. He hugged me hard. “And please be well.”

The next day, Natty and I went to the train station.

“I’m still so embarrassed,” she said. I had conveyed Win’s message, leaving out the parts where he said he still loved me.

“Don’t be,” I said. “I’m sure he understands.”

“Do you love him?” she asked me after a while. “I know you said you didn’t, but do you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I couldn’t sleep last night. The more I thought about it, the more I started to realize that what I had thought was his love for me was, in fact, love for you. And my face grew hot and I started to sweat and I was so mortified I wanted to physically leave my body. I started to think of the day I told him how worried I was about you not eating—you are still scrawny—but that it was hard to deal with you because you are stoic, and you won’t ask for help or even admit when you are in pain and you are used to being strong and caring for everyone else. And he said he would try to get you to eat something, if I wanted. I told him I’d be grateful to him for trying, but that I doubted he would have much luck. I went back to the room, and I could see the two of you on the deck. I watched him take that crown of leaves off the berry, and I watched him get down on his knees, and I watched him hold out his hand to you, and I watched you. I watched you take that berry from him. And he looked incredibly sweet in that moment. How could I not love him? He was so good to my poor sister, who he had not even been with for three years. And I thought he was doing that for me, but now I know better: it was for you.” She shook her head. “I’m a smart person, but what a fool I’ve been,” she said.

“Natty,” I said.

“You say you don’t love him anymore, but maybe you are lying to yourself. That boy, our Win, took off the leaves for you. If that’s not an act of love, I honestly don’t know what is.

“I had a glimpse into my future this morning, Annie. Would you like to know what I saw?”

“I’m not sure.” Natty’s visions had often involved my untimely death.

“Maybe it’s Thanksgiving,” she said. “Win is there and you are there and the three of us are having a good laugh over the fact that one summer Natty the genius let herself fall in love with Win even though it was obvious to everyone how much he still loved Anya. It. Was. So. Obvious. And I don’t even feel embarrassed anymore, because it’s the future and I am fantastic.”

“I love you better than anyone in the world,” I told her.

“Don’t you think I know that?” she asked.

They announced the train for Boston. “Have a good semester,” I said.

“Call me every day, Argon,” Natty said.

XXIV I HAVE THOUGHTS ON THE TRAIN BACK TO NEW YORK; ON LOVE

IT TAKES NOTHING, save a spot of courage, to kiss a pretty teenager at a high school dance. It takes nothing to say you love a person when she is perfect and her mistakes can be dealt with in a ten-minute confession.

Love was a boy getting down on one knee, not to ask her to marry him, but to beg a damaged girl to eat a berry: Please, Annie, have this one.

Love was the way he had removed the leaves from that berry, the way he had held his palm to me and bowed his head. Love was the humility of those gestures.

Love came three years after he had walked away, and it felt as palpable to me as that strawberry in his hand.

My sister was the romantic; I did not believe in that kind of love.

Sometimes, this good old world does not much care what you believe.

(NB: I knew this, but I was not yet ready to take that walk with him.)

XXV I RETURN TO WORK; AM SURPRISED BY MY BROTHER; BECOME A GODMOTHER AGAIN!

THE BEGINNING OF SEPTEMBER was always a wretched time in New York—summer is over, but the weather hasn’t caught on. Still, I was glad to be restored to my life and to be in the city, even if I navigated it at a more deliberate pace than I once had.

At long last, I went to get my hair cut. Bangs seemed like a good idea, and so I got them. Probably a mistake considering the shape of my face and texture of my hair, though no worse a mistake than marrying Yuji Ono in 2086 or taking up with the DA’s son back in 2082. In any case, I did not cry. (NB: This, dear reader, is what is known as perspective.)

Scarlet and Felix had moved to a place of their own downtown. She’d left her job at the club and she was making a living from acting in the theater. She was playing Juliet in Romeo and Juliet. I made it back to New York in time to see the closing night of the show.

Afterward, I met her in her dressing room, which had a star on it. That star filled me with something I can only describe as joy. Scarlet burst into tears when she saw me. “OMG, I’m sorry I couldn’t go to Japan or upstate, but between Felix and the play, I haven’t been able to leave town.”

“It’s fine. I’m sorry I’ve been such a neglectful godmother. Plus, I wasn’t really up for company. You were wonderful, by the way. I didn’t like Juliet when we read the play in school, but you made me like her for some reason. You played her so determined and focused.”

Scarlet laughed though I wasn’t sure I’d said anything funny. She took off her wig, which was long, black, and curly.

“For a second there, we could have almost been mistaken for sisters,” I said.

“I think that every night. Let’s go to dinner,” she said. “And then you can spend the night at my place and see Felix in the morning.”

“I doubt he’ll even remember me. It’s been so long.”

“Oh, I don’t know. You send presents so that probably will help jog his memory.”

At dinner, we ordered too much food and talked about everything. I hadn’t seen her in so long, and I’d missed her more than I even thought was possible.

“It’s like we haven’t even been apart,” she said.

“I know.”

“Do you know what you said before about me playing Juliet ‘determined and focused’? I have a secret about that.”

“Oh?”

“The day of the audition, I was thinking of you and wishing I could go to Japan to see you,” Scarlet said. “And then I started to remember you in high school. I knew other girls at the audition would be playing Juliet romantic and dreamy, but I thought, wouldn’t it be cool to play her like Anya? So I imagined that Juliet hated being star-crossed. I imagined she would have preferred not to have met Romeo, that it was completely inconvenient for her to like someone whose parents her parents didn’t get along with. And I imagined that Juliet wished she was into Paris, because he was the boy that wouldn’t cause her any problems.”

“I thought I liked your Juliet for some reason,” I said.

“The director thought my take was unique, so I guess you could say my choice to play you worked out well. The reviews have been nice, too. Not that those matter. But it’s better than bad ones.”

“Congratulations,” I said. “I mean it. And I’m flattered for any small part I might have had in it.”

“The only thing I have trouble with is the end, because I know you would never plunge a dagger into your chest, no matter how bleak the plot.”

“Probably not.” Someone else’s chest maybe.

“Let’s get dessert, okay? I don’t want to go home yet. The truth about Romeo and Juliet,” Scarlet said, “is that they lack perspective. That’s what I think. She’s so young, and he’s not much older. And what they don’t know is that sometimes life works itself out, if given a little time. Everyone’s parents cool off. And once that happened, that’s when they’d know if they were truly in love.”

My cheeks grew warm. I suddenly felt like we weren’t talking about the play anymore. “To whom have you been speaking?”

“To whom do you think? You don’t imagine I could play Juliet without asking Romeo a couple of questions first?” Scarlet asked.

“We aren’t together yet, Scarlet.”

“But you will be,” she said. “I know it. I’ve known it all along.”

The club’s expansion had continued without me. There were decisions I might not have approved (locations I did not agree with, hires I might not have made), but I was almost disappointed to note how little an effect my absence had left. Theo said it was testimony to what a good infrastructure I had built that the business had run so smoothly without me. As that sentiment will no doubt indicate, he wasn’t angry with me anymore. He had a girlfriend—Lucy, the mixologist. They seemed happy, but what did I know of happiness? I suppose what I mean is that he seemed charmed by that woman and also to have forgotten that he had ever loved me at all.

Mouse had heard very little from the Russians. Perhaps killing Fats had been enough of a statement or perhaps it was out of respect for my incapacitation or perhaps they had other problems with which to deal or perhaps the thought of taking on two crime families at once was too much for them (as Yuji had hoped). We made plans to begin production and distribution of our own line of cacao “candy” bars.

I flew around the country to check the progress on our other locations. My final stop was in San Francisco to see Leo and Noriko. I had not seen my brother since I’d been hurt, and I had even missed the opening of the San Francisco club last October. In its first eleven months of business, receipts had been strong, and we were considering opening a second San Francisco location. By any standard, Leo, Noriko, and Simon Green had been a good team.

Leo held me to him. “Noriko can’t wait to see you, and I can’t wait for you to see the club,” he said.

We rode a ferry to an island off the coast of San Francisco. The ferry reminded me a bit of the trip to Liberty, but I tried to push such associations from my mind and enjoy the breeze on my face. This was the new Zen Anya.

We got off the boat and walked up a set of stairs that led to the rocky island. “What did this place use to be again?” I asked Leo.

“It was a prison,” he said. “And then a tourist attraction. And now it’s a nightclub. So life is funny, right?”

Inside the club, Noriko and Simon were waiting.

“Anya,” Noriko said, “we are so glad to see that you are well again.”

I wasn’t 100 percent. I still had a cane and felt I moved at a glacial pace. But I wasn’t in much pain anymore, and it wasn’t as if I had to go through life in a bathing suit.

Simon shook my hand. “Let’s give her the tour,” he said.

Alcatraz was truly the strangest place for a nightclub. There were private tables in little rooms that used to be jail cells. Silver curtains had been hung over the bars, and the cells were painted bright white. The main bar and the dance floor were in a former prison cafeteria. They’d hung crystal-and-chrome chandeliers from the ceilings, and everything was so gleaming and sparkling that it was easy to forget you were in a former prison. I was beyond impressed with what they had done. Honestly, my hopes had not been particularly high when I’d sent Leo and Noriko to San Francisco. I’d made the decision not from logic but from love and loyalty. I’d thought that maybe in a year I’d have to hire someone new to run or revamp the club. But my brother and his wife had surprised me. I hugged Leo. “Leo, this is wonderful! Well done, you.”

He gestured toward Simon and Noriko, who were grinning like crazy. “You really like it?”

“I do. I thought it was weird when I heard that you wanted to open it in a prison, but I decided to wait and see what happened”—and also I’d been sort of totally incapacitated, but that was neither here nor there—“and what happened is brilliant. You’ve turned a prison, a dark place, into something fun and cheerful, and I’m so proud of you all. I know I keep saying it. I can’t seem to stop.”

“Simon thought it was a good metaphor for what you had done with the first club. Take something illegal and make it legal,” Noriko said.

“From darkness, light,” Simon said shyly. “Isn’t that what they say?”

Leo and I went to lunch by ourselves at a noodle shop back on the mainland. “I’ve been thinking of you a lot this past year,” I said to my brother.

“That’s nice,” he said.

“Since I was hurt,” I said, “I’ve wanted to say I was sorry.”

“Sorry?” Leo asked. “For what?”

“When you were recovering from your accident, I don’t know that I was always as patient with you as I should have been. I didn’t understand what it was to be seriously injured or how long it took to get back to normal.”

“Annie,” Leo said, “don’t apologize to me ever. You are the best sister in the world. You’ve done everything for me.”

“I’ve tried, but…”

“No, you have done everything. You protected me from the Family. You got me out of the country. You went to jail for me. You trusted me with this job. And that’s not counting the little deeds you did for me every day. Do you see my life, Annie? I run a nightclub where I am important and people listen to me! I have a beautiful and smart wife who is going to have a baby! I have friends and love and everything a person could possibly want. I have two great sisters, who have both achieved so much. I am the luckiest person on the whole planet, Annie. And I have the most amazing little sister that anyone ever had.” He grabbed my head with both his hands and kissed me on the forehead. “Please don’t ever doubt it.”

“Leo,” I asked, “did you say that Noriko is pregnant?”

He put his hand over his mouth. “We aren’t telling people yet. It’s only six weeks.”

“I won’t let on I know.”

“Darn it,” Leo said. “She wanted to tell you herself. Noriko’s going to ask you to be the godmother.”

“Me?”

“Who else would be a better godmother than you?”

Simon Green saw me to the airport. “I know our relationship hasn’t always been the best—probably most of that’s my fault,” I said before we were to part. “But I truly appreciate what you’ve done here. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Well, I’ll be in New York in October,” Simon said. “My birthday. Maybe we could get together.”

“I’d like that,” I said. I realized that I meant it.

“I’ve wondered,” he said, “what’s happening with Mr. Delacroix’s job?”

“Are you interested in it?”

“I love San Francisco, but New York is my home, Anya. Even with the terrible things that happened to me there, nowhere else will ever be home to me.”

“I feel the same way,” I said. I hadn’t decided what I wanted to do with Mr. Delacroix’s job, but I promised Simon Green that I would keep him in mind.

XXVI I DISCOVER WHERE THE ADULTS ARE KEPT; DEFEND MY OWN HONOR ONE MORE TIME BEFORE THE END

BY OCTOBER, THE WEATHER had cooled in New York, and Japan had begun to seem like a dream. I did not hear from Win, though I’m not sure I expected to. He had said he would wait for me to contact him, and he was keeping his word. I did not talk much to his father either, though I saw him a great deal. His face was on the sides of buses once again.

From my desk at the Dark Room, I could hear what I thought of as the symphony of my club: the blenders whirring, the shoes dancing, and, occasionally, the glasses breaking or the couples fighting. I was thinking how I loved this music more than any other when a siren began to wail.

I rushed out to the hallway. Through a bullhorn, an official-sounding voice announced, “This is the New York City Police Department. By order of the Department of Health and the laws of the state of New York, the Dark Room will be shut down until further notice. Please proceed in an orderly fashion to the nearest exit. If you have chocolate on your person, please surrender it to the trash cans by the door. Those displaying signs of chocolate intoxication should be prepared to show their prescriptions on their way out. Thank you for your cooperation.”

To get a better sense of what was happening, I pushed my way to the main room of the club. People were flooding out in every direction, and the flow of the crowd ran opposite to where I wanted to be. Peripherally, I saw one policeman checking a woman’s prescription, and another putting a man in handcuffs. A woman tripped on her dress and would have been trampled if Jones hadn’t helped her up.

I found Theo by the stockroom. He was gesturing wildly at a police officer who was using a dolly to wheel away a sack of cacao.

“You have no business stealing this,” Theo said. “This is property of the Dark Room.”

“It’s evidence,” the police officer said.

“Evidence of what?” Theo countered.

“Theo!” I yelled. “Stay cool! Let them have it. We can get more cacao once we sort this out. I can’t afford for you to be arrested.”

He nodded. “Should we call Delacroix?” he asked.

I had yet to hire another lawyer, but I didn’t think we should call Mr. Delacroix. “No,” I said. “He doesn’t work with us anymore. We’ll be fine. I’m going outside to see if I can get some answers from whoever’s in charge.”

Jones stood guard near the front. “Anya, I don’t know why, but the cops have blocked the door from the outside. It’s making people panic. You’ll have to go around.” I pushed on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. I could hear a rhythmic banging coming from the other side. I had counseled Theo to stay cool but I was starting to feel not very cool myself.

I forced my way through the crowd and out the side doors. I ran—or I should say I did what passed for running for me, more like hopping/limping—back around to the front. Police jammed the steps, and reporters had begun to arrive, too. Barricades had been erected. Several wooden boards were being nailed across the front door.

I pulled myself awkwardly over a barricade. A cop tried to stop me, but I was too quick. When I got close enough, I could see a different cop was posting a sign that read: CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.

“What is going on?” I demanded of the man who was nailing my door shut.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Anya Balanchine. This is my place. Why are you closing it?”

“Orders.” He pointed to the sign. “I’d stay back if I were you, lady.”

I wasn’t thinking; I was feeling. My heart was beating in the jaunty, familiar way that let me know I was about to do something stupid. I lunged toward the cop and tried to grab the hammer from his hand. For the record, it is never a great idea to try to grab someone’s hammer. The hammer smacked me in the shoulder. It hurt like hell, but I was grateful it wasn’t my head and besides, I had gotten quite good at pain management. I stumbled back a few paces, at which point I was immediately pinned to the ground by several police officers.

“You have the right to remain silent…” You know the drill.

Wisely, Theo, who had followed me out, did not try to get between the police officers and me. I could see him pulling out his phone.

“Call Simon Green,” I yelled. I had planned to have dinner with him the next evening, and I knew he was already in town.

When you are a minor and you are arrested, they put you in an isolated cell. But now I was a grown woman of twenty-one, which meant I had graduated to the adults’ communal holding cell. I kept to myself and tried to determine whether my shoulder was broken. I concluded it wasn’t though actually I wasn’t even sure if a shoulder could be broken.

I’d been there about an hour when I was summoned to the visiting area.

“That was foolish.” Mr. Delacroix glared at me from across the glass.

“I told Theo to call Simon Green,” I said. “I told him not to bother you. You do not work for me anymore.”

“Fortunately, Theo didn’t have Simon’s number so he called me. You’re bleeding. Show me your shoulder.”

I did. He shook his head, but did not speak. He took out his phone and snapped a picture.

“They want to leave you in here overnight, and I’m not sure it’s a bad idea.”

I didn’t answer him.

“But luckily for you, I still know a few people. I’ve woken a judge, and there’ll be a bail hearing later tonight, where they will probably set some exorbitant number. You’ll happily pay it and then you’ll go home.” He looked at me sternly, and I felt sixteen again. “You always have to go and make matters worse, don’t you? Seemed a grand idea to you to assault a police officer, eh?”

“They were shutting down the club! And I didn’t assault anyone. I only tried to grab his hammer. What even happened tonight?”

“Someone tipped off the cops that there were people at the Dark Room without prescriptions. They started checking everyone’s prescriptions and some people got upset and when people get upset, they get rowdy. The cops began confiscating the cacao, saying the club was dealing chocolate illegally, which, as we know, isn’t true.”

“What’s the upshot?” I asked.

“The upshot is that the Dark Room is shut down until the city decides what to do.”

I worried how the shutdown could affect our other locations. “When’s that Department of Health hearing?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Why are they suddenly interested in the Dark Room? Why now? We’ve been open for over three years.”

“I thought about that,” Mr. Delacroix said. “And the answer can only be politics. It’s an election year, as you well know. And I think this is a plan to make me look like I was involved in illegal dealings. My campaign is predicated on the idea that bad legislation needs to go, that we change the laws and bring new business to the city. The Dark Room is an accomplishment for me. Shut it down, and it takes away from that.”

“You’re wrong, Mr. Delacroix. Your accomplishments extend beyond the Dark Room. Maybe it’s best to cut ties with me and the club altogether. Say you were only involved in contracts and such. It isn’t far from true.”

“Yes, that could be a way to go,” he said.

“Listen, I’m going to bring on Simon Green tomorrow. He’s my half brother, and I trust him. It was foolish of me to put off hiring your replacement. You can’t take this on right now. The election is in less than two months. I won’t let you take this on.”

“You won’t let me?”

“I want you to be mayor. And by the way, I am glad to see you.” I leaned casually on the glass. I don’t know why, but it was easier to speak from the heart with a six-inch-thick panel of glass between us. “I am sorry for the way we parted. I’ve been trying to tell you that for weeks. I just didn’t know how.”

“So you thought you’d attack a police officer? There are easier ways to contact me. Pick up the phone. If you were feeling old-fashioned, a slate message.”

“Several times I apologized to your face on the side of a bus.”

“Yes, I don’t always get those messages.”

“And also, I’m thankful to you. You owe me nothing, Mr. Delacroix. We are even, and I don’t expect you to ruin your campaign to try to help me out.”

Mr. Delacroix considered this. “Fine, Anya. There is no point in arguing. But let me hire a lawyer for you. It isn’t that I doubt your ability to do it, but you won’t have much time before the hearing tomorrow, and Simon Green is too—forgive the pun—green for such a responsibility.”

“Simon’s not so bad.”

“In a few years, he’ll be perfect. And I am glad you’ve made peace with him, but he doesn’t know the ins and outs of how this city is run. You require someone who does.”

I got very little sleep that night, but in the morning, I received a message from Mr. Delacroix that the new lawyer would meet me at the Department of Health, where the hearing was to be held.

When I arrived, Mr. Delacroix was waiting for me. “Where is the new lawyer?” I asked.

“I am the new lawyer,” he said. “I couldn’t find anyone on such short notice.”

“Mr. Delacroix, you can’t do this.”

“I can. And really, I have to. Look, I’ve made mistakes. That is no secret. But you can’t run a campaign by trying to separate yourself from your accomplishments. Not a successful one, at least. I am proud of the Dark Room. I am going to defend it even if it costs me the campaign. Yes, that’s how strongly I feel about this. But listen, you have to hire me again, or I can’t defend you.”

“I won’t,” I said. “I’d rather defend myself.”

“Don’t be a martyr. Hire me. I am your friend. I want to help and I have the skills to do so.”

“I don’t need anyone to rescue me, if that’s what you think you are doing.”

“Hiring someone to assist you is not the same as being rescued. I thought we’d settled that years ago. It’s plain good sense. We can only do the jobs we can do in this life. What happens here is important and will determine what happens in San Francisco with Leo, and in Japan, Chicago, Seattle, Philadelphia, and everywhere else. We have to go inside in thirty seconds.”

I didn’t like being forced to do anything. And I wasn’t sure that he was even right.

“Fifteen seconds. One last reason. I am certain that I am the cause of this situation. Do you want my wife to hate me? My son? What good is being mayor if your family hates you? Can I leave the love of my son’s life to defend herself?”

“That isn’t true, and I’m not even sure it’s rel—”

“Five seconds. What say you?”

The hearing was open to the public, and when I got inside, the crowd that had gathered astounded me. Half the city seemed to have taken an interest in this little proceeding. Every seat was filled in the mezzanine and the balcony, and people were standing by the doors. Mouse and people from the Family had come, as had Theo, Simon, and most of my staff from the Manhattan and Brooklyn clubs. In the very back of the mezzanine, I saw Win and Natty. I hadn’t even told them about the hearing, but somehow they had gotten here, and quickly. There was a certain amount of press, but most of the crowd consisted of what appeared to be regular people—that is to say, the kind of people who came to my club.

“This is a hearing to discuss the club on Fifth Avenue at Forty-Second Street in Manhattan County, New York. Today’s hearing is largely discovery, and everyone who would like to speak will have a chance. At the end, we will determine whether the Dark Room should be allowed to remain open. This is not a criminal proceeding though in fact a criminal proceeding may follow depending on what is revealed in this forum.” The head of the board read the complaints against the Dark Room and its president, me: essentially that I was serving chocolate illegally, that some patrons at my club were obtaining chocolate without prescriptions, and that cacao was actually chocolate. “By calling chocolate ‘cacao,’ Ms. Balanchine, who is the daughter of a deceased organized-crime boss and still maintains connections to that family and other known international crime families, has introduced what is little more than a term of art to shield her criminal dealings. Though the city has chosen to look the other way for some time, it has become increasingly apparent that the Dark Room is a front for illegal activity.”

A chorus of boos from the gallery.

Mr. Delacroix spoke first. He offered our legal justification for the business (chocolate was not served at the club, cacao for health benefits was not illegal) and asserted that we were not in violation of any laws or ordinances of the city. “On a personal note,” Mr. Delacroix said, “I find the timing of this to be suspicious. Why now, after the club has been open for three years, in the middle of a mayoral election? This whole proceeding is offensive. The Dark Room is a credit to this city. It has created hundreds of jobs and brought in innumerable tourists. The entire section of Midtown around the club is reinvigorated. This young woman, who I have worked with for the past four years, is a credit to this city, too, and should not be subject to persecution because of who her father was.”

I thought Mr. Delacroix was being a bit grandiose, but that was his way.

At that point, the hearing was opened to the public for thoughts and opinions. Theo went up to the microphone first. He spoke about the health benefits of cacao, and the ethical way the cacao was grown. Doctor Param, who still worked at the club, spoke of the precautions he and the other doctors took, and then he went off on a rant about the stupidity of the Rimbaud Act. Mouse spoke of the Balanchines’ attempts to turn the Family to legal operations, and how I had spearheaded that. Lucy spoke of the standards we had implemented to keep the recipes as healthful as possible. Natty spoke about how hard it had been for me when we were young and how it had always been my dream to legalize chocolate. Scarlet, who was getting to be known as an actress, spoke of the fact that I was godmother to her son, and the most loyal person she knew. Win spoke of the sacrifices I had made for my family and how important the club was to me. And those were the people I knew! Little old ladies spoke about the transformation of the neighborhood around the club. High school kids talked about how they liked having somewhere safe to go. It went on for hours. Amazingly, not a single person spoke against the club or me.

“But the connection to organized crime cannot be denied,” one of the board members said. “Look at who we are talking about. She is an accused poisoner. As a teenager, she went to Liberty multiple times. She is her father’s daughter. I notice that Ms. Balanchine has not spoken a word during these proceedings. Perhaps she is worried that, if she speaks, she might impugn herself.”

Mr. Delacroix whispered to me, “You don’t have to let yourself be baited. This is going very well. Everything that needs to be said has already been said.”

I am certain it was good advice.

I stood and went up to the podium. “Yes, it is true. My father was Leonyd Balanchine. He was a mobster and he was a good man. He went to sleep one day, and when he woke up, the business his family was in had become illegal. He spent his whole life trying to figure out how to run a chocolate business legally, but he never could. He died trying. When I became an adult, I took up the cause. I did not have a choice. Mr. Chairman, you say that the difference between cacao and chocolate is little more than a ‘term of art.’ And I suppose this is true. The fact is, I would not have gone into cacao if not for who my father was, and so the connection to chocolate is there. As much as I have tried to in my life, I cannot escape it. But what I know—what I know in my soul—is that the club is good for New York. We who work there want nothing but the best for the public. We are not motivated by money or the desire to trick the system. We are citizens who want our city to be healthy and safe, to have sensible laws that protect the people. I am a mafiya daughter. I am my father’s daughter. I am a daughter of New York.”

I was about to sit, but then I decided I had even more to say. “You shut down the club because you thought there were people in there without prescriptions. Well, I don’t know if this is true, but what I do know is that there shouldn’t have to be prescriptions. The city or this board should grant any establishment that wants to serve cacao a cacao license, and that should be the end of that. You want less crime? Make it so there are less criminals.”

And then I really was done.

The board voted to allow the Dark Room to remain open: seven yeas, two nays, and two abstentions. There would not be a criminal case brought against me.

I shook Mr. Delacroix’s hand.

“You ignored my advice,” he said.

“I ignored some of your advice. But thank you anyway for being there to give it.”

“Well, I won’t make the mistake of ignoring yours. If I manage to become mayor, I will look into amending the Rimbaud laws in the city.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“I’d do that because it is the right thing to do. Now go celebrate. Your sister and my son are waiting for you.”

“You won’t come with us?”

“I wish I could, but the campaign calls.”

I shook his hand again. And he put both his hands around mine. “This may sound condescending, but you know that I have come to think of you as my daughter. And it is in this context that I find myself wanting to say how very proud I was of you today.” He stood up straight. “Go have some fun, will you? I am very much rooting for a happy ending when it comes to that loyal boy of mine and you.”

“How sentimental.”

“I am certainly more invested in the outcome of this little high school romance than I ever thought I would be. But I care about the characters, and forgive me for wanting everything to turn out for the plucky heroine.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head.

We went to dinner at a new restaurant near Penn Station. “I didn’t expect to see you two at the hearing,” I said to Natty and Win.

“My father called me,” Win said. “He told me he was going to be representing you and that you could use support. I asked him what I could do to help you, and he said that I should get on a train to New York and round up as many people as I could find who might have kind words to say about the club and you.”

“That must have been hard.”

“It wasn’t. Almost everyone I called was willing to come. Theo helped me. Dad thought the hearing would become a referendum on what people thought of you.”

“My character.”

“Yes, your character. That if the city believed you were good, they would believe the club was good.”

“And you dropped everything to do this?”

“I did. You probably think less of me.”

“Win, I am older now. I take help when it is given, and what’s more, I say thank you.” Hadn’t I learned that lesson six hours ago?

I leaned across the table, and since I was feeling in high spirits, I kissed him on the cheek. How long had it been since I had kissed that boy?

I should say, that man.

Just on the cheek, friendly-like, but still.

Natty began to chatter about a project involving the extraction of water from garbage. She’d been working on this for years. It was probably going to save all of us, but I wasn’t paying any attention.

Win smiled at me, a bit ruefully.

I smiled at him—Don’t read into this.

He cocked his head at me and I felt like I could read his mind—Are we going to do this?

I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders a little—I still don’t know.

He put his hands on the table, palms up—Hurt me. Go ahead and try, my girl. I’ve got the thickest and the thinnest skin imaginable when it comes to you. I’m half rhinoceros, half baby bird.

I folded my hands in my lap—I’m old, Win. I’m a widow. I’m beaten up. I’m a little scared to try this again. The last time was disastrous. Don’t you like being friends? Don’t you like sitting here civilly, smiling at each other and having dinner? Are you so eager to sign up for another round of pain? Being with me has never made a single person happy. Not for very long at least. I think I’m good alone. And why do people need to be in couples anyway?

He shrugged his shoulders—I wish there was someone else for me. I honestly wish there was. But you get to hurt me, because you, I love. I love you. So I’ll be sitting here. Maybe forever. Looking like an idiot. And it’s okay. I’ve made peace with it. Love me or don’t. I love you either way. ’Cause I am the one boy who can’t get over the girl I met in high school. I’m that dumb, hopeful boy. I’ve tried, my girl. Have I tried. Don’t you think I’d rather be in my dorm right now reading Gray’s Anatomy? But I have to be here with you, the best, worst girl in the world. The only girl in the world as far as I’m concerned.

A second rueful smile from Win.

But maybe this exchange was only in my head.

No one was speaking and so I turned to Natty. “And you! You should be in school.”

“I had to tell them what a good sister you are.”

I turned to Win. “You called her?”

“Annie, I am allowed to call who I like.”

“Still—you should both be in school.”

“We’re going back tonight,” Win said.

I walked them over to the train station, which was a manageable distance for me. “Hey Win,” I said when Natty was buying gum. “Might I do a favor for you sometime?”

“Like what?”

“I mean, you’ve helped me a million times over. It seems one-sided. I’d like to do a good turn for you.”

“Listen, Annie, I’ve been lucky in my life. As unlucky as you’ve been, I’ve been lucky. Life works out for me.”

“Probably I’m the unluckiest thing that ever happened to you.”

“Probably so.” He took off his hat. He leaned down and whispered in my ear, “I’ll see you when I see you, okay?”

“Win,” I said, “there are other girls, you know. Ones with fewer issues than me.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only girl in the world, Annie, and I think you already know that.”

XXVII A FINAL EXPERIMENT IN ANCIENT TECHNOLOGY; I LEARN WHAT AN EMOTICON IS AND I DON’T LIKE IT

anyaschka66: Hey Win, people don’t end up with the boys they meet in high school.

win-win: Yes, I got home safely. Thanks for asking. The train wasn’t too crowded.

win-win: Some people do, Annie. Otherwise it wouldn’t be such an enduring cliché.

anyaschka66: I’m not a happy-ending person.

win-win: Sure you are.

win-win:

anyaschka66: What’s that?

win-win: Didn’t your nana teach you about emoticons?

anyaschka66: It’s creepy. I feel like it’s looking at me.

win-win:

anyaschka66: Ugh, what’s it doing now?

win-win: It’s winking.

anyaschka66: Gross. I wish it wouldn’t.

win-win:

anyaschka66: When someone looks at me the wrong way, I start reaching for my machete. I’m very damaged, Win.

win-win: I know, but you’re sturdy, too.

anyaschka66: Good night, Win. See you at Thanksgiving.

win-win:

XXVIII I SPOT A TULIP IN JANUARY; WALK DOWN THE AISLE; HAVE MY CAKE

BECAUSE LIFE IS CURIOUS, long if you’re lucky, and filled with twists, I found myself at City Hall on a bitterly cold afternoon in January, having a lunch meeting with the newly inaugurated mayor of New York City. When I arrived, I had been told by his assistant that my former enemy had no more than a half hour for lunch. “The mayor is a very busy man,” she said, as if I did not know that already.

At lunch, the mayor and I spoke of my business for a while, and of his plans to introduce legislation to amend the Rimbaud laws. We spoke of his son briefly, though I would not have minded a more detailed report as far as that was concerned. About five minutes before lunch was over, my old colleague looked at me with a very solemn expression.

“Anya,” Mr.—now mayor, though always Mr. Delacroix to me—Delacroix said, “I did not summon you to lunch purely for chatter. I have a request.”

I braced myself. I had known some unpleasant requests from this man in my life. What might he demand from me now that he was so much more powerful than he had been?

He looked at me steadily; I did not blink. “I am getting married, and I would like you to be my best woman.”

“Congratulations!” I reached across the table to shake his hand. “But who is she?” Mr. Delacroix had always been secretive about his personal life, and I had not even known he was dating anyone.

“She is Ms. Rothschild. The former Mrs. Delacroix.”

“You are remarrying Win’s mother?”

“I am. What do you think?”

“I think … Frankly, I can think of nothing more shocking! What has caused this turnabout?”

“Last summer, during my failed attempt at matchmaking for you and Win, I succeeded in matchmaking for Jane and me. Had I not sent you to that farm, which necessitated my going there myself, I doubt very much that I would be telling you this tale. Jane finds me to be less fearsome and selfish than I once was. She thinks it might have been your influence, which I have informed her is absurd. And for my part, I love her. I never stopped loving her. I have loved that woman my whole life, since I was fifteen years old.”

“And even though she knows what you are like, she still wants to marry you again?”

“I am not sure if I should be insulted by that question. But yes, she does. As strange as that may seem. She forgives me and she loves me. Despite the fact that I am awful. Perhaps she thinks that life is better with company. Anya, you are crying.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.” He reached across the table and wiped my eyes with the sleeve of his dress shirt.

“I’m so happy for you,” I said. And how could one not be happy when presented with evidence that love could bloom from ground once considered barren? I threw my arms around Mr. Delacroix and kissed him on both his cheeks. He smiled boyishly, and it reminded me of Win.

“What does Win say?” I asked.

“He rolled his eyes quite a lot. He said that we—and particularly his mother—were crazy. He will, of course, walk Jane down the aisle. The wedding is in March. It will only be a little affair, but you still have not said if you will stand up for me.”

“Of course I will. I am honored to be asked. Am I truly the best friend you have?”

“Yes, just about. It’s been a lonely life. And Jane and I are grateful to you. In a strange way, she thinks you belong to us, though I told her that Anya Balanchine belongs to no one except herself. In any case, we could think of no other we wanted standing beside us more, except our own daughter, had she lived.” He held me to him, and I tried not to cry again. (Aside: How much of this book—nay, my life—have I spent “trying not to cry”? When I think of the wasted effort!)

His assistant came into the office. The half hour was up. He shook my hand, and I went back out to the street. The January air was cold and bright, and it seemed as if the colors of the city were more vivid than before.

In the gutter, a yellow tulip improbably pushed its way through the mud and the trash and the ice. Apologies for the cliché, but I must tell it like I see it. The tulip was there—it is not my place to speculate why or how such miracles occur.

The wedding was in March though the day felt more like May. Win’s parents were not young people and they had already done this before, so it was not a grand wedding—only a justice of the peace at the Dark Room, Manhattan. Aside from Win and myself, the only other people there were a few of their colleagues, including Theo, who had brought Lucy. Rumor had it that Theo and the mixologist were engaged, but Theo and I didn’t discuss these matters. Natty had wanted to come, but she couldn’t get away from school.

I wore a pink dress that Ms. Rothschild had selected for me. Though I didn’t agree, she thought pink was my color, that it complemented my black hair. Win wore his usual gray suit, which I had seen several times—I hadn’t yet tired of it.

I wore heels, low ones, for the first time since I’d been hurt. I still had a pronounced limp, but I felt girlish, strong, and even a little sexy. Last year, I had never thought I’d feel pretty again.

Win’s parents said their vows. I snuck a glance at Win, who was standing beside me and who I had not seen since Christmas. He grinned at me, then leaned over and whispered in my ear, “You look awfully sweet, Annie.”

The wedding was over by three. As a present, Theo had provided the cake for the occasion—chocolate. Mr. Delacroix had recently pushed through legislation that amended the Rimbaud laws within New York City to allow for cacao to be served with a license, and so it made sense that chocolate cake would be featured at his wedding. There were no more prescriptions needed at the New York clubs either. Instead, we had a certificate on the wall that said the city permitted cacao-based products of all kinds to be served on the premises.

It was so warm out that I wanted to walk home, even though it was kind of a long walk for me. So I had Theo cut me two pieces of cake to go, and then I asked Win if he would walk me home. “If you don’t have anything else to do, that is. I’ll probably take forever.”

He looked at me a long time. “You’re sure you’re good to walk home,” he asked. “It’s a long way.”

“I’m sure,” I said. “I’m stronger than I was in the fall, Win. I think I’m finally ready.” I slipped my arm through his. “Is this okay?”

“It is,” he said after a pause.

“Let’s head west,” I said. “I’d like to go past Trinity.”

“That’s a bit out of the way,” he said.

“I’m feeling sentimental, I guess.”

“All right, Annie,” he said. “Let me carry the cake.” He took the box from me, and we made our way uptown.

“Any spring plans?” he asked as we crossed into Central Park.

“I’m going to Russia with Mouse. We’ve approached the Balanchiadze about manufacturing a line of cacao bars.”

“Aren’t you worried about working with them?” Win asked.

“No,” I said. “Not anymore. They’re in my business whether I want them there or not. I think the best option is to try to convert them to the good side.”

“That seems optimistic for you.”

“I’m optimistic now, Win. Why shouldn’t I be? I’m twenty-one years old, and I may have had a hard time and made a few pretty shady decisions, but I’ve stayed alive and mainly everything has worked out for me, hasn’t it? Look at your dad. Look at your parents. Who would ever have thought that they would get married again? I can’t help but feel hopeful today.”

“I think my mother is crazy,” Win said. “I don’t remember if I mentioned that.”

“I know they’re your parents. But don’t you find it romantic, even a little? They were high school sweethearts.”

He looked at me steadily. “Where has Anya Balanchine gone? Isn’t she the girl who told me no one ever ends up with anyone they dated in high school?”

“Your parents have proven me wrong. I am humbled yet again.”

“I don’t even know who I’m walking with right now.” He was smiling at me, and there were wrinkles around his eyes. I liked his face when it got squinty that way.

“How can you not feel happy when it is almost springtime and the air smells like flowers and you can walk across the park without getting mugged?”

He put his hand on my forehead. “Spring fever,” he said. “Clearly.” He laughed at me. “I should get you home.”

“No, let’s not go home. Let’s stay out the whole day. We’ll find a park bench and we’ll eat our cake out here, too. You don’t have somewhere you have to be, do you?”

“I do not,” he said. “Going back to what we were talking about before, it’ll be kind of dangerous for you in Russia, no?”

“Maybe,” I said. “Though I don’t think anyone wants me dead at the moment.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He rolled his eyes. “I rather prefer you alive. Maybe that comes off as too forward for you.”

“Scandalous. That pretty boy must really like me if he doesn’t want me dead! Actually, I’m excited to go to Russia,” I said. “I’m reasonably sure I’ll survive, and what’s more, I’ve never been. People think of me as Russian, but I honestly don’t know a thing about it.” Suddenly, I stopped. “Win, look at that!” We were halfway through Central Park. “There’s water in the lake!”

“What do you know.” Win said.

“Is your dad behind that, do you think?” One of Mr. Delacroix’s stump speeches had been about how people in a city needed more than essentials. The reason he thought that the Dark Room had improved Midtown so much was because it had reminded citizens that life could be more than survival. And so Mr. Delacroix had promised to plant flowers in the medians and reopen museums and, yes, fill the man-made lakes with water. He said that even if the cost seemed exorbitant, it was worth it—a city with hope is a city with less crime, and policy decisions made on cost alone were often shortsighted. It was a very good speech. But politicians—my dear colleague included—had been known to make lofty statements when they were campaigning. I hadn’t known if Mr. Delacroix would get around to filling the lakes when he was elected. But today, miracle of miracles, I was looking at a lake! Five years ago, I remembered running past a dirt hole while Natty had almost gotten herself mugged.

“Could be,” Win said. “Annie, what would you think if I went to Russia with you?”

“You wouldn’t be trying to protect me, would you? Because I’m hardy, you know.”

“Nah, I know that. I’ve always wanted to visit Russia. Maybe you weren’t aware of it, but I’m kind of into Russian girls.”

I thought about kissing him, but I didn’t. I was not afraid. No, not anymore. I knew with absolute confidence that I would kiss him again. I knew I might even be kissing him for the rest of my life, though one would rather not tempt fate with such outlandish proclamations. But at that moment, the promise of that first kiss hung in the air like the promise of springtime on a balmy March day. What I didn’t know when I was sixteen was the exquisite pleasures that can be found in the waiting, the anticipation. How lovely it was to look at fallow ground and know that any day a flower might poke her head out. How lovely it was to be outside, to be young, and to know that, oh yes, there would be a kiss. How lovely to know with authority that this future kiss would be a good one, because I had kissed him before. I knew what that mouth felt like, those lips, that tongue. That future kiss was like a delightful secret that we both already knew. The day had been so filled with happiness. Why not save a portion of joy for tomorrow?

“Do you want to have the cake now?” he asked. We’d been walking for an hour at least, and I was hungry. We sat down on a bench near the lake. It was nearing sunset, and the sky was pregnant with evening. Win took the cake out of the box, and he handed me my piece.

I took a bite. Perhaps the irony of my life was that I had never truly loved the taste of chocolate. Yes, I’d built a business out of it, and I could recognize good quality chocolate like Balanchine Special Dark. I could even enjoy a cacao drink if it was mixed just so or a dish of chicken mole at Granja. But chocolate had never been my favorite flavor—I much preferred citrus or cinnamon. When I tasted chocolate, the bitter tones were what I tended to fixate on, to the exclusion of every other taste, and I never felt like I was experiencing what others seemed to describe when they ate it. But on that almost-springtime night, as the chocolate rapidly dissolved on my tongue and that good, good man sat beside me, I began to see the appeal. Once I surrendered to it, all I tasted was the sweetness.