Before she started the car, Nina called the officer and gave him the address. She said Beth was going to collect a bag from her former housemate, that they had arranged for someone to bring it outside and that they would leave if they saw Owen.
He asked if Beth could get it later. Nina looked through the windshield at her, waiting beside the office with the food bag in her hand.
“She can. She wants to get it now.”
“If there's a problem, don't call me and wait. Call for immediate help.”
“I will.”
She wrote his reference beside the address in her own notebook. When Beth got in, Nina told her what she'd said. Beth nodded and gave her the turn to take out of the lot.
They passed the service station where they'd stopped that morning. A gray car stood at the edge of its parking area, beside a board advertising fuel prices. Nina had noticed a similar car when she walked to buy food. She looked at it now because she had been looking at everything that stood still too long.
The driver's face was lost behind reflections. She kept driving. In the mirror the car remained where it was until the road bent and she couldn't see it.
Beth called her housemate.
“Dani? We're coming. In the car I told you.”
She listened, then said, “No, please don't put it in the van. We're nearly there.”
Nina glanced at her. Nearly was an optimistic description. Beth put the phone down and looked out of the window.
“She's angry.”
“Because of the bag?”
“Because of everything. Her sister's called twice. The crew have another job. I said I'd be gone last week.”
“You had a reason.”
“She has reasons too.”
At the next light Beth picked up the phone again and sent a message. She held it in her lap until a reply came.
“She says Luis will bring it out. He's in charge of the truck. I don't go in.”
“Good.”
Beth gave her a tired sideways look. Nina didn't add anything.
The building stood beyond a narrow loading lane shared with the next property. The truck backed toward it had its hazard lights on. A man in a yellow vest was walking beside the rear wheels, one arm extended, guiding the driver. Nina stopped before the lane and waited while he finished.
He came to her window.
“For the move?”
Beth leaned across. “For Dani. I'm Beth.”
The man's face changed with recognition. “The bag.”
“Yes.”
“I'm Luis. Just a minute. I can't have you beside the ramp while we're dropping it.”
He pointed to a space alongside the building. Nina moved where he indicated and kept her foot on the brake. There was room to reverse toward the street when the truck was still. She watched a crew member carry a rolled rug up the side path, his view blocked by its end.
“Stay here,” Beth told her.
“I'm not going anywhere.”
“I mean don't go and sort it out.”
Nina looked at the man struggling with the rug. She had already been about to offer to hold the gate. She put both hands on the steering wheel instead.
Dani came out carrying a lamp without its shade. She wore a coat over a shirt with paint on one sleeve. A ring of keys hung from her little finger. She saw the car and came toward Beth's window.
“You made it.”
“I said I would.”
“You said lots of things.”
Beth looked down, then back at her. “I know. I'm sorry.”
Dani glanced at Nina. Beth introduced them. Neither said nice to meet you. Dani rested the lamp against her thigh, examining the car as though deciding what else it could carry.
“What about the chair?” she asked.
Beth shut her eyes briefly. “I can't take it.”
“Then can I give it away? Because I can't take it either.”
“Yes.”
“You said you wanted it.”
“I did.”
Dani looked past them toward the truck. Someone called her name. She raised a hand without turning.
“It wasn't meant to be your problem,” Beth said.
“I know what it was meant to be. I'm asking what to do with it.”
Beth pressed her lips together. “Give it away. Whoever can use it.”
“Theo painted the arm.”
“I know.”
“I tried getting it off. Made it worse.”
“He'll like that.”
Dani looked at her, and something eased between them. “He put teeth on it. On a chair.”
“It was a dinosaur.”
“It was my uncle's chair.”
They smiled, briefly. Nina looked away toward the truck, letting them have the smile without asking it to become forgiveness.
“I've got the bag by the door,” Dani said. “Luis knows which one. I'll get him.”
“Thank you.”
“And Beth?” She leaned down slightly. “Don't disappear and then send someone to ask me things. If you need me, call me yourself.”
Beth nodded. Dani lifted the lamp and went back toward the building.
Nina let out a breath. “That chair sounds—”
“Don't.”
She stopped.
Beth looked at her own hands. “Sorry.”
“You don't have to tell me.”
The crew lowered the truck's ramp. Metal struck pavement with a hollow bang, and Nina jumped. Luis looked over and held up a hand, an apology without stopping work. The rug man went past again, now carrying the bare cardboard tube that had been inside it.
“I can see him,” Beth said.
Luis was at the doorway with a dark canvas bag. Two strips of tape crossed its top. Beth raised her hand. He nodded, checked the lane for moving people and began carrying it toward them.
Nina watched the street in her side mirror. A gray car passed the lane entrance, slowed and pulled in by the far curb. Same shape as the one beside the service station. She couldn't see its driver yet.
Beth pushed the window switch. It caught halfway down, then continued. Luis bent to pass the bag through, discovered it was too wide and said, “Door, maybe?”
Beth unlatched it. He stepped forward, holding the weight while she cleared room on her knees.
Nina looked in the mirror again.
The driver had got out. Owen shut his car door and began walking toward them.
Beth saw him at the same moment.
“Leave,” she said.
Nina put the car in reverse.