53

ALLIE WORMED HER WAY THROUGH HER NEW APARTMENT, NAVIGATING THE maze of boxes that held her life. She was surrounded by cryptically marked packages that she needed to unpack. Until she did, they loomed around her in guilt-inducing piles, forcing her into narrow, complicated paths and threatening to topple and make ugly messes if she didn’t tread carefully.

This place was smaller than her old apartment. Shabbier too. Painted-over cracks marred the off-white plaster walls. Holes left by long-gone carpet nails lined the edges of the hardwood floors. But this place had two big advantages over her last address. The first was that it had the best security she’d ever seen at an apartment building. The second was that it was half a block away from Tang Dynasty’s San Francisco restaurant.

After three hours of unpacking (which had not visibly reduced the number of boxes), her leaden arms and rubbery legs told her it was time for a break. And her guilty conscience told her it was time to do what she had come back to do.

She picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. Half a minute later, Trudi’s voice came through the phone. “Hello, TempForce. Trudi Wexler speaking.”

“Hi, Trudi.”

“Hey, Al! It’s great to hear from you. Where have you been? I haven’t been able to get hold of you for months. Where are you?”

Allie sat down on the only chair in the apartment not occupied by a box. “I’m back in the city. I’ve got a new place down South of Market. It’s all full of boxes right now, but it’ll be something once I’ve unpacked. I love the neighborhood.”

“Very cool! Welcome back.”

“Thanks. Say, all this moving has me starved. What do you say to an early dinner at Tang Dynasty?”

“I’d love to, but I need to get home. Our nanny gets off at six, and Dave and I were both late yesterday. Not good. We should get together for coffee or something. I can’t wait to hear what you’ve been up to, what’s going on with you and Erik, and all that stuff.”

“Erik and I aren’t together anymore.”

“Oooh! Okay, maybe I’ve got time for a quick cup of tea or something. I’ll charge it to employee relations. Speaking of which, are you looking for work?”

Allie licked her lips nervously and her heartbeat quickened. “Yeah, as a matter of fact I am. I really liked the last place I was—Deep Seven. I was, um, wondering whether you knew if they were hiring.”

Trudi’s clear laugh rang through the phone. “What a coincidence! They’re hiring, and they’re looking for people exactly like you. Apparently some big government investigation totally messed up their files and computer system, and they need it fixed like yesterday. It was all over the news a while back. Did you hear about it?”

Allie stood and began pacing in the five feet of free space by the chair. “I, um, might have seen something about it on TV.”

“Well, they’ll be pumped to hear that you’re available. I’ll call them right now. See you at Tang Dynasty at five?”

“At five.”

Tang Dynasty was an Asian fusion restaurant with great food and an off-beat menu that Allie enjoyed. How many places offered deep-fried tripe? Or “exploding turkey” sandwiches (so named because a cook once failed to thaw a turkey before deep-frying it, leading to a spectacular fireball in the kitchen)?

Trudi arrived thirty seconds after Allie, and they were seated at a little table in an alcove upholstered with red leather. Trudi looked just the same as she had the last time Allie saw her— the perfect picture of a stylish professional woman who also happened to be a mom. Allie used to think that was sad, proof that Trudi had become boring. Now she felt a little twinge of envy.

“So, what happened with Erik? Where have you been? Tell me about it!”

Allie split her chopsticks apart and rubbed them against each other as she spoke, giving her something to do with her hands and eyes. “There’s not that much to tell really.” Or at least not much that could be told. “The whole meth thing finally got to be too much for me, so I told him to hit the road. Then I did the same thing—hit the road, I mean. I just had to escape from everything for a while.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Bahamas. I just rented a little place on the beach and hung out. Did some diving, did some biking, tried to give myself skin cancer. That kind of thing.”

Trudi grimaced in mock agony. “Ah, stop! I’m already too jealous! I wish Dave and I could get away for just one or two days like that. It sounds wonderful.”

That stung. Trudi hadn’t meant to hurt her, of course. But Allie couldn’t help picturing her happily married friend laughing on the beach or snorkeling in the coves of San Salvador— and contrasting that image to the lonely agony of her time there.

The waitress came up and took their orders. Allie ordered quickly. She had several minutes to collect her thoughts while Trudi first repeatedly tried to pronounce chawanmushi and then asked detailed and slightly suspicious questions about what it contained. She ultimately went with a chicken won ton salad.

“You know, I’m a little jealous of you too, Trude. You’ve got your own kind of wonderful going on right here.”

Trudi gave Allie an appraising look. “Wow, you are a changed woman, Al. Well, good for you. I can tell you firsthand that there’s life after the party ends. I’m still having fun, and I can’t remember the last time I had a hangover.”

“I feel a sudden urge to buy some sensible shoes and a minivan.”

Trudi laughed. “And pick up some Spanx while you’re at it. I can’t tell you how fast my fat jeans became my skinny jeans after I started having kids.”

Allie held up her hand. “Not so fast! That’s still a looong way in the future for me. But speaking of the future, what can I expect tomorrow morning at Deep Seven?”

“I’m not really sure. All they said was that you should show up at 8:30 tomorrow and ask for Franklin Roh. They probably just want you to do whatever you did last time.”

Which, of course, was exactly what she intended to do. But without the fake invoices this time.