days‘
worth of filing yet to be done making her secondguess the idea of quitting early—or rather, as it actually happened to be, on time.
―I‘m kidding!‖ Nora said, already racing around the desk to herd Tess out into the small lobby. ―Go home. Relax. Do something fun, for crissake.‖
Tess nodded, so grateful to have someone like Nora in her corner. ―Thanks. I don‘t know what I‘d do without you.‖
―Just remember that at my next pay review.‖
It took only a couple of minutes for Tess to ditch her lab coat, grab her purse, and shut down the computer in her office. She left the clinic and walked out into the afternoon sunshine, unable to recall the last time she‘d been able to quit work and stroll to the T station before dark. Enjoying the sudden freedom—her every sense seeming more alive and attuned than ever before—Tess took her sweet time, making it to the bank just before they were closing and then catching the subway home to the North End.
Her apartment was a tidy but unimpressive onebedroom, one-bath unit, close enough to the expressway that she‘d learned to consider the steady hiss of flowing, high-speed traffic to be her own brand of white noise. Not even the frequent horn blasts of impatient drivers or the squeal of vehicle brakes on the streets below her place ever really bothered her.
Until now.
Tess jogged up the two flights of stairs to her apartment, her head ringing with the din of street noise. She shut herself inside and sagged against the door, dropping her purse and keys onto an antique sewing machine table that she‘d bought cheap and reincarnated into a vestibule sideboard. Kicking off her brown leather loafers, Tess padded into the living room to check her voice mail and think about dinner.
She had another message here from Ben. He was going to be in the North End that evening and hoped she wouldn‘t mind if he dropped by to check in on her, maybe head out to one of the neighborhood‘s pubs for a beer together.
He sounded so hopeful, so harmlessly friendly, that Tess‘s finger hovered over the call-back button for a long moment. She didn‘t want to encourage him, and it was bad enough she‘d promised to be his date for the Boston MFA‘s modern-art exhibit. Which was tomorrow night, she reminded herself again, wondering if there was any way for her to wiggle out of it. She wanted to, but she wouldn‘t. Ben had bought the tickets specifically because he knew she loved sculpture, and the works of some of her favorite artists would be on display in limited engagement.
It was a very thoughtful gift, and backing out now would only hurt Ben. She would attend the exhibit with him, but this would be the last time they did the couple thing, even just as friends. With that matter as good as resolved in her mind, Tess flipped on her television, found an old rerun of Friends, then wandered into her galley kitchen in search of food. She went straight for the freezer, her usual source of sustenance.
Which orange box of frozen boredom would it be tonight?
Tess absently grabbed the nearest one and tore it open. As the cellophane-covered tray clattered onto her counter, she frowned. God, she was pathetic. Was this really how she intended to spend her rare evening out of the office?
Do something fun, Nora had said.
Tess was pretty sure nothing she had on her personal schedule right now would constitute fun. Not to Nora, anyway, and not to Tess herself either. At nearly twenty-six years old, was this what she‘d let her life become?
While her bitter feelings didn‘t stem merely from the prospect of bland rice and rubbery chicken, Tess eyed the frozen brick of food with contempt. When was the last time she‘d actually cooked a nice meal from scratch, with her own two hands?
When was the last time she‘d done something good just for herself?
Too damn long, she decided, and swept the stuff off the counter and into the trash.
Senior Special Investigative Agent Sterling
worth of filing yet to be done making her secondguess the idea of quitting early—or rather, as it actually happened to be, on time.
―I‘m kidding!‖ Nora said, already racing around the desk to herd Tess out into the small lobby. ―Go home. Relax. Do something fun, for crissake.‖
Tess nodded, so grateful to have someone like Nora in her corner. ―Thanks. I don‘t know what I‘d do without you.‖
―Just remember that at my next pay review.‖
It took only a couple of minutes for Tess to ditch her lab coat, grab her purse, and shut down the computer in her office. She left the clinic and walked out into the afternoon sunshine, unable to recall the last time she‘d been able to quit work and stroll to the T station before dark. Enjoying the sudden freedom—her every sense seeming more alive and attuned than ever before—Tess took her sweet time, making it to the bank just before they were closing and then catching the subway home to the North End.
Her apartment was a tidy but unimpressive onebedroom, one-bath unit, close enough to the expressway that she‘d learned to consider the steady hiss of flowing, high-speed traffic to be her own brand of white noise. Not even the frequent horn blasts of impatient drivers or the squeal of vehicle brakes on the streets below her place ever really bothered her.
Until now.
Tess jogged up the two flights of stairs to her apartment, her head ringing with the din of street noise. She shut herself inside and sagged against the door, dropping her purse and keys onto an antique sewing machine table that she‘d bought cheap and reincarnated into a vestibule sideboard. Kicking off her brown leather loafers, Tess padded into the living room to check her voice mail and think about dinner.
She had another message here from Ben. He was going to be in the North End that evening and hoped she wouldn‘t mind if he dropped by to check in on her, maybe head out to one of the neighborhood‘s pubs for a beer together.
He sounded so hopeful, so harmlessly friendly, that Tess‘s finger hovered over the call-back button for a long moment. She didn‘t want to encourage him, and it was bad enough she‘d promised to be his date for the Boston MFA‘s modern-art exhibit. Which was tomorrow night, she reminded herself again, wondering if there was any way for her to wiggle out of it. She wanted to, but she wouldn‘t. Ben had bought the tickets specifically because he knew she loved sculpture, and the works of some of her favorite artists would be on display in limited engagement.
It was a very thoughtful gift, and backing out now would only hurt Ben. She would attend the exhibit with him, but this would be the last time they did the couple thing, even just as friends. With that matter as good as resolved in her mind, Tess flipped on her television, found an old rerun of Friends, then wandered into her galley kitchen in search of food. She went straight for the freezer, her usual source of sustenance.
Which orange box of frozen boredom would it be tonight?
Tess absently grabbed the nearest one and tore it open. As the cellophane-covered tray clattered onto her counter, she frowned. God, she was pathetic. Was this really how she intended to spend her rare evening out of the office?
Do something fun, Nora had said.
Tess was pretty sure nothing she had on her personal schedule right now would constitute fun. Not to Nora, anyway, and not to Tess herself either. At nearly twenty-six years old, was this what she‘d let her life become?
While her bitter feelings didn‘t stem merely from the prospect of bland rice and rubbery chicken, Tess eyed the frozen brick of food with contempt. When was the last time she‘d actually cooked a nice meal from scratch, with her own two hands?
When was the last time she‘d done something good just for herself?
Too damn long, she decided, and swept the stuff off the counter and into the trash.
Senior Special Investigative Agent Sterling
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