In the days following Jeremy’s unsuccessful meeting with the producers, he focused his attention on trying to return to his previous routines. He spoke to his editor at Scientific American. Behind on his deadline and vaguely remembering something Nate had suggested to him, he agreed to do a column about the possible dangers of a low-carbohydrate diet. He spent hours on the Internet, scanning countless newspapers, looking for other stories that might be of interest. He was disappointed to learn that Clausen— with the help of a high-profile publicity firm in New York—had largely weathered the storm after Jeremy’s appearance on Prime-time and was still in negotiations for his own television show. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Jeremy, and he spent the rest of the day bemoaning the gullibility of true believers.

Little by little, he was getting himself back on track. Or, at least, he thought he was. Though he still thought of Lexie frequently, wondering whether she was busy preparing for her marriage to Rodney, he did his best to force those thoughts out of his mind. They were just too painful. Instead, he tried to resume the life he’d been living before he met Lexie. On Friday night, he went out to a nightclub. It didn’t go particularly well. Instead of mingling and trying to catch the attention of the women standing nearby, he sat at the bar nursing a single beer for most of the night, leaving long before he normally would have. The next day, he visited his family in Queens, but seeing his brothers and their wives playing with their kids only made him wish again for something that could never be.

By Monday noon, as another winter storm was settling in, he’d convinced himself that it was really over. She hadn’t called and neither had he. At times, those few days with Lexie seemed like nothing more than the mirage he’d been investigating. It couldn’t have been real, he told himself, but as he sat at his desk, he found himself thumbing through the postcards again, finally pinning the one of the library on the wall behind the desk.

He ordered lunch from the Chinese restaurant down the block for the third time in a week, then leaned back in his chair, wondering about the choices he’d made. For an instant, he wondered if Lexie would be eating at the same time he was, but the thought was interrupted by the buzz of the intercom.

He grabbed his wallet and headed toward the door. Through the static of the intercom, he heard a female voice.

“It’s open. Come on up.”

He riffled through his bills, pulled out a twenty, and reached for the door just as he heard the knock.

“That was fast,” he said. “Usually it takes . . .”

His voice trailed off as the door opened and he saw who was standing before him.

In the silence, he and his visitor stared at each other before Doris finally smiled.

“Surprise,” she said.

He blinked. “Doris?”

She stamped the snow off her shoes. “It’s a blizzard out there,” she said, “and it’s so icy I wasn’t sure I was going to make it. The taxi was sliding all over the road.”

He continued to stare, trying to make sense of her sudden appearance.

She slipped her handbag from her shoulder and met his gaze. “Are you going to make me wait out in the hallway, or are you going to invite me in?”

“Yeah . . . of course. Please . . . ,” he said, motioning her inside.

Doris moved past him and set her bag on the end table near the door. She glanced around his apartment and removed her jacket. “This is nice,” she said, walking around the living room. “It’s bigger than I thought it would be. But the stairs were a killer. You really need to get the elevator fixed.”

“Yeah . . . I know.”

She paused at the window. “But the city is beautiful, even in the storm. And so . . . busy. I can see why some people would want to live here.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you, of course.”

“About Lexie?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she sighed, then said evenly, “Among other things.” When his brow furrowed, she shrugged. “You wouldn’t happen to have any tea, would you? I’m still a little chilly.”

“But . . .”

“We’ve got a lot to talk about,” she said, her voice holding steady. “I know you have questions, but it’s going to take a while. So how about some tea?”

Jeremy went into the small kitchen and heated a cup of water in the microwave. After adding a tea bag, he carried the cup back to the living room, where he found Doris sitting on the couch. He handed her the cup, and she took a sip almost immediately.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t call. I know I should have. You must be pretty shocked. But I wanted to talk to you in person.”

“How did you know where I live?”

“I talked to your friend Alvin. He told me.”

“You talked to Alvin?”

“Yesterday,” she said. “He had given his phone number to Rachel, so I called him, and he was kind enough to give me your address. I wish I’d had the chance to meet him while he was in Boone Creek. He seemed like a perfect gentleman.”

Jeremy sensed that the small talk was a sign of mounting nervousness and decided to say nothing. He knew she was simply trying to work up to whatever it was she was going to say.

The buzzer sounded again and Doris glanced toward the door. “That’s my lunch,” he said, annoyed by the distraction. “Give me a minute, okay?”

He rose from his seat, pressed the intercom, and unlocked his door; as he waited, he glimpsed Doris smoo............