“Yeah, I do. Not just to Jamie, but to yourself, too.”

“He lied to me.”

“He tried to tell you.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, he’s called me about three hundred times since your little article faux pas.”

“About what?”

“Lots of different things. He wanted me to know that he was sorry for hurting you. He also wanted to make sure that you were okay, since you haven’t returned any of his calls.” I shrugged. “You know, Kate, I find him fascinating. Who would have thought young Ryan Lawson would grow up to be this kind of person? He was such a geeky kid. He’s still brilliant, don’t get me wrong, but he’s really a guy’s guy, you know?”

“Maybe you should date him, Jerry.”

“I’m surprised, that’s all. I don’t think any of us would have suspected Jamie. I should have given you more time to research before I sent you out there.”

“Maybe. Probably. They definitely didn’t expect that Jamie and I would . . .”

“Fall in love?”

I face-planted into both of my hands and leaned over my knees. “I was going to say hook up. Enough with the love stuff.”

He stood and brushed the crumbs from his clothes, seemingly unaffected by my dramatics. “You’ll figure it out, kid.”

Jerry drove me back to the office, where I collected my suitcase. I wheeled it past the closest L station, which was closed due to construction. I let myself absorb the cold again. I glanced at my watch. It was four thirty. I had a little time to get back to my apartment before I would have to disappear again so Dylan and Ashley could have their date. I was thoroughly freezing when I reached the second closest L station. I waited at the platform with the toes of my shoes peeking over the yellow line. It was starting to get dark out. I heard the train coming, so I leaned out to look down the track. To my absolute joy and wonder, pink lights were reflecting onto the shiny tracks just before the train came into view. Even though I had never seen it before, I knew, as if it were the absolute truth of the world, that the holiday train was coming my way.

I started giggling uncontrollably. Some schmuck next to me in a beige trench coat said, “Dammit, the holiday train again. This is the second time this week for me. The damn thing is slower than molasses.”

“Oh, bah humbug, you asshole!” I wheeled my suitcase over his polished dress shoes and began running down the length of the train to where I could see an open train car. On the outside of each car were painted twinkle lights and holiday scenes. The sounds of “(It Must’ve Been Ol’) Santa Claus” by Harry Connick Jr. started pumping through the speakers. I was running past the lights, smiling exuberantly, like I was in a Hallmark Christmas movie, about to be reunited with my love. Seasons Greetings flashed in bright white lights on the last car before I reached Santa’s sled.

Just as I got to the end, a transit worker jumped down from the train and the lights and music went off. “What’s going on?”

“She’s broken down. That’s it for the holiday train tonight.”

“What?” My voice was at its highest pitch, piercing the silence. The rest of the train riders were walking past me to the stairs to exit the platform.

“You have to be kidding me!” I shouted.

“I’m sorry, honey, we’re having some trouble on the tracks. You’ll have to catch her the next time around. Maybe tomorrow when she’s up and running. We have engineers working on her right now, but we got to let Santa have a break.”

I looked back at Santa’s sled and he was already gone.

“I can’t believe it,” I kept saying. “I’ve waited years for this, years!” Fucking bullshit.

I walked all the way back to my apartment, cursing at the sky and rolling my suitcase behind me. I spotted a large Dumpster in a dark alley near my building. To hell with it. I took the box that Just Bob had given me out of my suitcase. I lifted my five-hundred-dollar luggage into the air and heaved it over the Dumpster wall with surprising ease and then headed toward my apartment without looking back. I freshened up and headed out with Just Bob’s copy of A Room with a View.

There was an old café on the corner of my street called the Living Room. It was one of those coffee houses with big cozy armchairs and the smell of roasting beans wafting through the air. Before I reached the door, I could hear Miles Davis coming from the outdoor speaker. It was “Someday My Prince Will Come.”

Ha! I laughed out loud as I entered the café. Several people looked up from their newspapers and laptops. Smiling really widely, I pointed up and shook my finger at the speaker. “Love this!” I saw a few smiles before everyone went back to their business. I plopped into a giant purple chair with an ottoman and kicked my feet up.

“Can I get you a coffee?” a waitress asked, hovering over me.

“A cappuccino, please.”

“You got it.”

Minutes later, she brought my coffee back. I wrapped my hands around the warm mug and took a sip. It was divine. Closing my eyes and inhaling, I took another sip and said, “Mmm,” very quietly.

“You enjoying that?” A man’s voice. I opened my eyes to see a young guy in an identical armchair across the table.

I coughed, clearing my throat. “Yes.” He was good-looking in a preppy way. He reminded me of Kevin McDonald, my first boyfriend in high school who taught me how to drive. I smiled.

“Whatcha reading?” he asked, nodding toward the book on my lap.

“A Room with a View.”

“What type of book is that? I’m not familiar.”

“Well, I guess it depends on your belief system. It’s a love story, so one might consider it science fiction.”

“So skeptical,” he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

“For example.” I flipped the book open and noticed Bob had highlighted quotes from it. “Let me read you a bit.” My eyes fell on the words:

Mistrust all enterprises that require new clothes.

I laughed to myself. Bob was right on highlighting that quote. I flipped through the book some more to find a bigger section to share.

“Okay, here,” I said. “ ‘It isn’t possible to love and part.’ ” I paused when I felt my heart start racing.

“Please continue,” he said.

“ ‘It isn’t possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.’ ” A huge lump began forming in my throat. It was actually painful.

It was the answer to Jamie’s riddle. Had I known at the time what the poets said, I might have agreed that they were right, but did I believe it as I sat there in that coffee shop? Is that why I couldn’t let the memory of a few short days with Jamie escape my heart? Because it was impossible to push real love away?

“Gotta go.” I jumped up and headed for the door.

“Wait a minute. Can I get your number?”

“Sorry!” I said as I rushed out onto the street. I ran back to the alley. It was completely dark at that point, and I had to step over a couple of homeless men. “Excuse me, I’m sorry.” One of them grumbled something before I strapped my purse across my body, placed my hands on the disgusting edge of the Dumpster, and jumped up and over, landing dramatically in the knee-high trash.

Quickly realizing my suitcase was gone, I hopped back out and wiped my hands down my jeans.

“Excuse me, guys? Did you happen to see someone take my suitcase from the Dumpster?”

“Nah, we didn’t see nothin’,” said a toothless man. His beard moved up and down when he talked, like he was a puppet. It was frightening in the dark, but I swallowed back my fear and pulled out ten dollars. They both immediately threw their arms in the air, pointing behind me, and said, “She went that way!”

“Yeah, it’s Darlene. She’s got it,” said toothless man number two.