Solana had no intention of incorporating that information in the application. She was superstitious about disease and didn’t want anyone to think she’d suffered from something so embarrassing. Breast cancer? My god. She didn’t need the pity or the fawning concern. In addition, she worried about a prospective employer voicing curiosity. If she included the talk of cancer, someone might inquire about her symptoms, or the nature of the drugs they’d used, or what the doctors had told her about her chances of recurrence. She’d never had cancer in her life. No one in her immediate family had ever had cancer, either. In her mind, having cancer was as shameful as being an alcoholic. Also, she was worried that if she wrote it down, the disease might actually manifest itself.

But how could she explain that interval when the real Solana-the Other-had been off work? She decided she’d substitute a position she herself had held right around that time. She’d worked as a companion for an old lady named Henrietta Sparrow. The woman was now dead so no one could call her to ask for a letter of reference. Henrietta was beyond complaining now (as she had at the time) that she was mistreated. All of that had gone to the grave with her.

Solana consulted a calendar and wrote the start and end dates for the job along with a brief description of the chores she’d been responsible for. She wrote in neat block letters, not wanting a sample of her handwriting to appear anywhere. When the application was completed, Solana joined her son in front of the TV set. She was satisfied with herself and decided to celebrate by ordering three large pepperoni pizzas. If it turned out Gus Vronsky didn’t have two nickels to rub together, she could always quit. She looked forward to Melanie Oberlin’s departure, and the sooner the better.

11

The following Monday, I stopped by my apartment at lunchtime, hoping to avoid the temptation of fast food. I heated a can of soup, of the do-not-add-water type, that I knew had enough sodium to approximate my swallowing a tablespoon of salt. I was washing up afterward when Melanie knocked on my door. Her black cashmere coat was form-fitting and long enough to bisect her black leather boots. She’d folded a wide black-and-red paisley shawl into a voluminous triangle and secured it across her shoulders. How did she have the confidence to carry it off? If I tried it, I’d look like I’d inadvertently walked through a clothesline and gotten tangled in a sheet.

I opened the door and stepped aside, letting her in. “Hi, how’s it going?”

She breezed by me and sat down on the couch, extending her legs in a gesture of collapse. “Don’t even ask. The man is driving me insane. I saw you parking your car and thought I’d catch you before you went out again. Is this a bad time? Please tell me it’s fine or else I’ll have to kill myself.”

“It’s fine. What’s going on?”

“I’m just being dramatic. He’s no better or worse than he’s always been. Anyway, I can’t stay long. I have a gal who started work this morning, which is what I want to talk to you about.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“This woman…this angel…named Solana Rojas showed up Friday morning for an interview. We chatted back and forth-Uncle Gus, his injury, and the kind of help he needs. Stuff like that. She said this was right up her alley and she’d be happy to have the job. She even ended up staying through the afternoon without charging a cent. I was afraid to expose her to the real Uncle Gus for fear she’d quit, but I felt honor-bound. I thought she should know what she was getting into and she seems fine with it.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I’m on a flight to New York tomorrow and I don’t have time to call and verify her references.”

“I’m surprised you stayed this long.”

“You’re not the only one,” she said. “I was scheduled to fly back last Friday, but Gus-as you well know-turned into a royal pain. Ditto my boss. I mean, she’s great and she was fine about my coming, but she called this morning in a lather. She’s got problems at work and she wants me back there. ‘Or else,’ is how she put it.”

“That’s too bad.”

“I should have known she’d do this. She’s generous until the first time it inconveniences her,” Melanie said. “I suppose I should be grateful for anything that gets me out of here. Which brings me to my point. Henry tells me you’re a PI. Is that true?”

“I thought you knew that.”

“I can’t believe I never asked. Naughty me,” she said. “I was hoping you could do a quick background check and let me know Solana’s okay. Of course, I’d pay you for your time.”