9
ONE STEP FORWARD, TEN STEPS BACK
CAROLINE
Caroline had tossed and turned all night. At five-thirty, when the alarm pierced the early-morning silence, she drifted back to sleep. Forty-five minutes later, she woke with a start and bolted out of bed to get ready. Now, at quarter to seven, she was starting her Friday behind the curve.
While eating cereal at the center island, her phone rang.
Sipping her coffee, Sydney glanced over. “It’s the building concierge. Are you expecting a package?”
“No,” Caroline replied before answering. “Hello.”
“Stan Bowers is here. He said he’s taking you for coffee.”
Caroline flicked her gaze to her sister. “I don’t know anyone named—wait, does he have a small build, light brown hair, and glasses?”
“Yes, he said you’d know him as Stan from the club.”
“Is he with you or outside?” Caroline asked.
“Someone let him in. He’s at the desk.”
“I told him no,” Caroline said. “Please escort him out.”
“He said you’d say that?—”
“Did you tell him my name?”
Silence.
“He didn’t know my name,” Caroline bit out. “Does he know it now?”
She knew the answer, but she needed the concierge to own up to his mistake.
“I’m not sure.”
“Did you tell him where I live?”
“I did not.”
“Escort him out. If he returns, let me know.”
“Of course.” The line went dead.
Caroline set down her phone and stared at the uneaten cereal swimming in oat milk. “My bonehead move lives on.”
“Do you want to file a restraining order?” Sydney asked.
“I probably should, but I’m already late for work.” She dumped the soggy cereal down the drain, washed the bowl and spoon, and hurried down the hall.
Ten minutes later, she was out the door, but instead of riding the elevator to the parking garage, she stopped in the lobby. At the concierge desk, she eyed the man’s name tag.
“Hello, James. I’m the resident Stan Bowers came to see.”
His expression didn’t change. “Good morning.”
“Where did he go?”