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Nobody came to my apartment without warning. Delivery drivers left packages in the lobby. Maintenance emailed twenty-four hours in advance unless water actively poured from the ceiling. My parents had never visited because parking was inconvenient, and my building lacked a concierge and elevator.

The knock came again, followed by three quick taps arranged in a rhythm that suggested confidence rather than emergency.

I stood and crossed the living room cautiously. “Who is it?”

“Your new life.”

I stopped with my hand on the lock. That voice sounded familiar.

I peered through the peephole.

Patty stood in the hallway. She was dressed in a black skirt, combat boots, and an oversized sweater covered in tiny embroidered mushrooms. Under one arm, she carried her laptop. In the other, she held two reusable grocery bags overflowing with chips, candy, soda, microwave popcorn, and what appeared to be an entire boxed cake.

A flash drive hung from a chain around her neck.

I opened the door and she lifted both bags. “Surprise. It’s girl time.”

I stared at her, but she just smiled. “How did you know where I live?”

“Meh. That’s not important.”

“It feels important.”

“It isn’t.”

She stepped past me before I could stop her. “Also, by girl time, I mean wolf studies time.”

I turned slowly and watched her enter my apartment as if she’d done so hundreds of times before.

“You cannot dismiss the question by changing the subject to wolf studies.”

“Of course I can. I just did.”

She kicked the door shut with the heel of her boot and looked around.

My apartment was clean, though not clean enough for visitors. A mug sat on the coffee table beside two library books. I’d tossed a blanket over the back of the couch. Three rejected client printouts had fallen under my desk, and the laundry basket outside my bedroom door contained enough dirty clothing to suggest I seldom did laundry.

Patty nodded. “This makes sense.”

“What does that mean?”

“You live exactly where I imagined you living.”

I crossed my arms. “Is that an insult?”

“It’s not. Neutral furniture, graphic prints, twelve throw pillows you probably arranged according to visual balance rather than comfort, and no evidence that another human being has been here recently.”

I tightened my arms. “You’ve been inside for nine seconds.”

“And I’m extremely observant.” She carried the bags to the kitchen. “You’ll enjoy today more if you stop asking so many questions.”

“Patty, can you please just tell me how you found my address?”

She set the bags on the counter and began unloading food. “Hudson had your address.”

My heart stumbled. “Why does Hudson have my address?”

Patty paused with a bag of cheese puffs in her hand. “You entered it on the reunion RSVP form.”