“Sometimes they forget that the people who raised them still need a bit of warmth now and then.”

I looked at him more carefully.

There was nothing unusual about a stranger guessing that a woman dining alone might feel neglected.

It didn’t occur to me that he could already know who had neglected me.

We ate roasted chicken.

He asked whether I liked living downtown, and I mentioned my apartment.

I did not describe the safe.

I remember that distinction because I would later examine every word of that dinner, trying to discover which one had opened my bedroom door.