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By Root 1429 0

envy how she’d never been one of the anointed few who’d been invited to Mrs. Houghton’s apartment for tea, or even to her annual Christmas party. Despite Mindy’s position in the building, Mrs. Houghton had largely ignored her—although, to be fair, when the Gooches moved in, Mrs. Houghton was nearly ninety and mostly housebound. But every now and then, she would descend from above like an angel (or perhaps like one of the Greek goddesses) to walk amongst regular humans. She would ride down in the elevator in her sable wrap, diamonds and pearls slung around her neck—it being rumored that she always wore real jewelry, so confident was she in her fame and reputation as to never worry about being mugged—standing erect on her rickety old legs like a determined general. The nurse or housekeeper would call down ahead to alert the doormen that Her Majesty was “coming down,” and when the elevator doors opened in the lobby, Mrs. Houghton would be greeted by at least two doormen, a handyman, and the super. “Can I help you, Mrs. Houghton?” the super would ask, offering his arm to walk her out to her ancient Cadillac limousine. On the occasions of Mrs. Houghton’s coming down, Mindy would do her best to be in the vicinity, and even though she refused on principle to bow or scrape to anyone, she found herself doing just that with Mrs. Houghton.

“Mrs. Houghton?” she’d say meekly, shrinking her shoulders into a sort of bow. “I’m Mindy Gooch. I live here? I’m on the board?” And even though Mindy could tell Mrs. Houghton had no idea who she was, she never let on. “Yes, dear!” she’d exclaim, as if Mindy were a long-lost relative. She’d touch Mindy on the wrist. “How are you?” But the brief exchange never evolved into a conversation. And before Mindy could think of what to say next, Mrs. Houghton had moved on to one of the doormen.

And now, instead of the gracious Mrs. Houghton in the building, they had the despicable Paul Rice. Mindy had admitted him to the building; therefore, she reasoned, she had every right to sneak into his apartment. Paul Rice was probably engaging in illegal and nefarious activities. It was her duty to protect the other residents.

She had a hard time with the keys, which were electronic, in itself a possible violation of a building rule. When the door finally opened, she nearly fell into the foyer. Mindy wasn’t into art (“You can’t be into everything in this city, otherwise you have no time for accomplishments” was something she’d written recently in her blog), and so she barely noticed the lesbian photograph. In the living room, sparsely furnished, either on purpose or because they were still decorating, a freestanding mobile with papier-mâché renderings of cars blocked the view of the fireplace. Kids’ stuff, Mindy thought with disdain, and went into the kitchen. Here again she was disappointed. It was just another high-end kitchen with marble countertops and restaurant-quality appliances. She peeked into the maid’s room. Another bland pro-forma room with a single bed and a flat-screen TV. The bed had a profusion of pillows and a down comforter, and lifting up the corner, Mindy saw the sheets were from Pratesi. This was slightly irritating. These people really know how to waste money, she thought. She and James had had the same sheets for ten years, purchased on discount at Bloomingdale’s. Mindy went upstairs. She passed two bedrooms—empty—and a bathroom. She continued down the hall and went into Annalisa’s office. On top of a bookcase were several framed photographs, possibly the only personal items in the apartment. There was a large, schmaltzy photograph of Annalisa and Paul on their wedding day. Paul was wearing a tux and was leaner than he was now. Annalisa wore a small beaded tiara from which extended a lace veil. They looked happy, but who didn’t on their wedding day? There were also some snapshots of Paul and Annalisa at a birthday party wearing paper cones on their heads; a photograph of Paul and Annalisa with what appeared to be her parents in front of a town house in Georgetown; Paul in a kayak; Annalisa